Since it was not pleasant to observe their neighbors ignoring her, Elizabeth had developed the habit of staring at the road as she walked. Which was why she did not notice Lord Henry until he was almost on top of her.
He had come to call twice at Longbourn since that horrible day at Lucas Lodge. Both times he had pressed her for an answer to his proposal. Both times Elizabeth had told him she was not inclined to accept, but he had behaved as though she were still deciding, which naturally pleased her mother. The viscount had been charming and gentlemanly in Longbourn’s drawing room, but Elizabeth had not been sanguine that he would behave honorably if they were alone.
Upon seeing him, she started violently but then increased her pace. Perhaps he would ignore her if she ignored him. However, the viscount immediately reined in his horse so that he blocked the road before her. She stopped, regarding him with narrowed eyes.
“Miss Elizabeth.” He nodded.
“Lord Henry.” She nodded in return but did not curtsey; the man deserved no such honor.
Shoving her hands deeper into the pockets of her pelisse, she willed them to stop trembling. If only she could maneuver around his horse and continue on her way! But she had no desire to have the viscount at her back. With the man on horseback, at least he could not easily touch her.
“I have been to Longbourn, but you were not at home.”
The simple statement chilled her to the bone. She hated the thought that the viscount was looking for her; she had been praying he would forget her existence.
“I was at church,” she said, immediately berating herself for being obvious.
“I have not laid eyes upon you for well over five days.” He gave her a smile that he no doubt intended to be charming. “I have missed you.”
And I have missed you as I would a poisonous rash. “How could you have missed me, sir, when we are barely acquainted?” She lifted her chin defiantly.
He closed his eyes as if her words had wounded him. “How can you say this, Elizabeth? In my heart, I know you very well.”
She said nothing. He was toying with her, and she had no desire to play his game.
Keeping his eyes focused on her, the viscount slid from the saddle of his horse, landing gracefully on his feet. Elizabeth backed away, putting more distance between them, but she knew very well she could not outpace him. She was wearing heavy skirts; he could catch her easily. One side of his mouth quirked upward at this sign of her discomfort.
As he stalked toward her, the viscount removed his thick leather riding gloves as if preparing to touch her. “I do not understand you, Elizabeth—”
“I am not Elizabeth to you, sir,” she said, pleased her voice did not shake.
He shook off this rebuke. “Most women would leap at the chance to be the wife of Viscount Billington.”
They would not if they knew your true character, Elizabeth thought darkly. As he continued to advance, Elizabeth shifted sideways, closer to the man’s horse.
“I do not believe we would suit.” Elizabeth kept her voice light.
He spread his arms wide. “I do not know why you would say that.”
Elizabeth edged further from him but kept her eyes on his. “I am just a simply country miss…and you are—”
“A viscount. I know, Elizabeth. But you should not allow that to intimidate you.”
“You mistake me, sir,” Elizabeth said through gritted teeth. “I intended to say you are a blackguard.”
His face turned red, and he lurched toward her. She darted behind his horse, peering around the creature’s neck to watch the man. He took a deep breath and spoke slowly as if addressing an unruly child. “It is not as if you have another choice, Elizabeth. After that unfortunate incident at the ball—”
Unfortunate incident! Elizabeth ground her teeth. She knew the event was no accident; there were too many coincidences. The viscount had engineered it all.
“No other man would have you for his wife,” he continued.
Elizabeth kept her face carefully blank; she would not give him the satisfaction of knowing that such words found their mark, but she was bleeding inside. Although she had always known that marrying for love was unlikely, the possibility had been a cherished hope. Now she knew that she would never marry—for any reason.
It was still a far better fate than being shackled to this man. “Then I will remain unmarried,” she said simply.
His eyebrows shot upward. Was it really so surprising? “Surely marrying me is preferable to a lifetime of loneliness.” He frowned; she must have piqued his pride.
She allowed a corner of her mouth to curve upward. “By comparison, a lifetime of loneliness is no deprivation, sir.”
Somehow his face grew even redder. “Are you hoping for a bigger marriage settlement? Do not play with me. I know you want to marry me,” he growled.
Elizabeth’s anger flared. How dare he make such declarations? “I would rather wed your horse.”
He advanced, each meaty hand curled into a fist. “You must quit this absurdity and bow to the inevitable. We both know it is only a matter of time.”
She shrank back against his horse’s flank with no obvious means of escape.
His smile was rather sinister. “You will kiss me. Now.”
Elizabeth had already suffered through one kiss with the man and had no desire to repeat the experience. She pressed against the horse, her pulse pounding in her ears. Swallowing, she tried to moisten a mouth as a dry as a desert. Why had she baited him? His eyes gleamed with anger.
When he was a few feet from her, she cast her eye over his shoulder, raising her brows in surprise. “Who could that be?”
As she had hoped, Lord Henry turned to see the newcomer. Elizabeth immediately grabbed hold of his horse’s saddle, and putting her foot in the stirrup, she heaved herself onto its back, landing in an ungainly heap.
By the time the viscount turned back to her, she had managed to sit upright, her skirts bunched up around her knees and the reins in her hands. The startled horse was dancing around, making it dangerous for the viscount to come too close. He shouted threats and curses at her.
She dug her heels into the horse’s flank, hoping the beast would take commands from someone other than its master. Perhaps she applied too much pressure. The creature took off in a flash, requiring Elizabeth to grab the pommel with one hand to avoid spilling out of the saddle.
Over the thundering of the horse’s hooves, the viscount’s voice still screamed at her. But soon they were out of earshot. The horse’s hooves kicked up dust, and wind whipped her clothing and hair. Her legs, too short for the stirrups, stuck out to the side, revealing far more of her lower leg than was at all proper, and much of her skirt was bunched uncomfortably around her waist. However, when she glanced over her shoulder, the viscount was lost to sight, and Elizabeth allowed herself to relax slightly.
Well, now I have escaped, but what if he accuses me of stealing his horse?
***
Darcy was nearing a bend in the road when he heard the pounding of hooves; a horse was approaching at a fast speed. He reined his mount to the side of the road just in time to avoid a collision with a bay stallion thundering into sight—with Elizabeth Bennet perched improbably on its back. The skirt of her dress was hiked up, and both of her legs were visible to the knee. Darcy could not help noticing how shapely they were.
The horse was a thoroughbred from elite bloodlines, far too fine to belong to her family, and he could not imagine that she would set out for a ride without a proper sidesaddle. Where had she obtained such a creature? Elizabeth was pulling on the reins, and—perhaps because it did not recognize the rider—the stallion had slowed but was not stopping.
Without thinking twice, Darcy spurred his own mount into action, causing it to lurch toward the careening horse as it rounded the bend. Leaning low over the pommel of his saddle, Darcy managed to grab the stallion’s reins and pulled back sharply as he yelled commands at the animal.
Darcy doubted that his words had much impact on the beast, but the added drag of another horse’s weight on the reins slowed the stallion. He maintained a steady pressure until the horse slowed to a walk and finally stopped altogether. Darcy dismounted, looping the animal’s reins around a tree branch, and offered Elizabeth a hand to help her down from the horse.
The hand that clasped his was trembling and moist even through the leather of her glove. She clambered awkwardly down from the saddle and stood on unsteady legs as she smoothed her skirts around her ankles. Her whole body shook. “Are you unharmed, Miss Bennet?” he inquired, running his eyes up and down her form.
She gave a shaky laugh, and Darcy could not help admiring her fortitude. Many women of his acquaintance would have swooned after such an episode. “Yes, I thank you for your timely intervention. I believe the only damage is to my dignity. I assure you that I do not customarily ride a horse like a sack of potatoes.”
Darcy blinked. “Undignified” was not one of the adjectives he had thought to apply to the sight of Elizabeth on the back of a horse, particularly not with so much leg revealed. “Of course. I would imagine you are a far superior rider with a proper sidesaddle.”
She brushed errant strands of hair from her face. “You are very kind to make such an assumption given the display you just witnessed.”
How odd to be discussing Elizabeth’s horsemanship when something was so obviously wrong. How had she acquired a horse, and why was she riding at such speeds?
“On the contrary,” Darcy returned. “It requires great skill to remain atop a strange horse under such circumstances. I am quite impressed.”
She regarded him with narrowed eyes for a moment, as if assessing his sincerity. Finally, she said, “I thank you for the compliment, sir.”
Would she think him impertinent to inquire about the circumstances of her ride? But surely the unusual situation cried out for some kind of explanation. “You were in quite a hurry. Is there an emergency?” he asked.
She glanced over her shoulder at the road behind her. “No, I do not believe so.”
This ambiguous response left Darcy at something of a loss. Why had she ridden so fast if there was no urgency? And why did she watch the road so intently? Finally, he settled on a different but not unrelated line of inquiry. “I did note that you departed the church on foot.”
He had meant his words as a light-hearted jest but cursed himself for a fool when he saw the blood drain from Elizabeth’s face. He cleared his throat. “Does, er, the Longbourn stable boast such a creature?” he asked, knowing full well she had not had sufficient time to reach her home.
“No…” Her face was now quite red. “I…er…that is, I—”
“Borrowed the mount?” he inquired as though a simple explanation would work. He reached out and took her gloved hand in his. “Please be assured, Miss Bennet, I only wish to help.”
Her eyes widened as if she had not expected such an offer from him, although he could not imagine why. But he was then rewarded with a small smile and a slight loosening of the tension in her shoulders. She let out a long breath. “No, indeed. The horse actually is the property of”—she cleared her throat —“Viscount Billington.”
“Billington!” Darcy echoed in surprise, releasing her hand. That was the last name he expected to hear. “He lent you his mount?” Was Darcy wrong in assuming she wished to have no connection with the man?
“He did not precisely loan it to me—” She covered her mouth with her hand. “Although I am quite concerned he could label me a horse thief. I must be sure the beast is returned to him.” She pressed her lips together into a white line. “Perhaps I should not have— Oh, what a terrible tangle I have created!”
Suddenly, the various oddly shaped pieces of the puzzle fell into place. He took a step closer to her. “Billington accosted you on the road?” His voice was a low growl.
She nodded miserably but lifted her chin and met his gaze. “The horse was the only way to escape.”
To Darcy’s own surprise, he began to laugh. “Serves him right! You should keep the animal.”
Elizabeth’s eyes were wide, and her mouth hung open. Darcy could only imagine the expression on Lord Henry’s face when Elizabeth jumped into his horse’s saddle. Darcy laughed even harder.
Her brows drew together. “Did you, perhaps, help Mr. Lehigh finish off the communion wine?”
Thinking of the vicar sobered Darcy, and he shook his head. “Miss Bennet, to be clear, I believe you should be commended. A lady should always have a horse at hand when encountering such a man,” Darcy said.
Elizabeth’s eyes widened. “You heard about—?”
“The incident at the ball? Indeed—”
She backed away from him. “I cannot imagine that what you heard is to my credit, sir. I thank you for your assistance, but I should return home…” Her face turned in the direction of Longbourn.
“There is no need to depart so precipitously,” Darcy said.
When she looked back at him, an odd smile played on her lips. “Truthfully, sir, it is best if you are not seen with me. You must understand”—her voice lowered to a whisper —“I have amazing powers of corruption. A single conversation with me about ribbons would be enough to drive an innocent young girl to wantonness.” She gave him a conspiratorial smile.
Darcy could not help returning the smile. “I will take my chances.”
Elizabeth shook her head, no longer smiling. “No. You should not be seen with me.”
“Please, Miss Bennet—” Darcy’s hand reached out to her of its own volition.
Elizabeth’s eyes focused on his outstretched hand. He cleared his throat. “I…I do not know what others believe about the story, but I…” His hand floated between them, an awkward reminder of the total impropriety of his behavior. He cleared his throat and started again. “I do not know Lord Henry, but I know men like him who use such…tactics to take advantage of innocent women.” She continued to regard him with a level gaze. He let his hand drop.
Was she horrified at his presumption? Perhaps he should not have mentioned the incident at all. Such delicate situations were not spoken of in polite company. I am a fool. Why did I say anything at all? Why did I leave London? I cannot be her knight errant.
Then he noticed Elizabeth’s eyes glistening with unshed tears. I have made her cry! He was beginning to regret having risen from bed that morning. Perhaps it would be best for her if I departed for Pemberley and never returned. Although Derbyshire might not be far enough. Perhaps India.
Elizabeth swallowed, the pale column of her throat moving convulsively. “Y-you believe me?” Her words were a harsh whisper. “N-no one in Meryton b-believes a word of my story save my Papa and Jane. People I have known all my life think I was the agent of my own ruin, but y-you, a virtual stranger…you believe me?”
Darcy did not see himself as a virtual stranger to Elizabeth Bennet, but now was hardly the time to argue the point. “Yes, I believe you. You would never behave in such a…reckless manner. From what I have heard, it is clear the viscount imposed himself upon you. Almost certainly he arranged the situation with the purpose of compromising your virtue.”
If possible, Elizabeth’s face grew even paler. “I suspected as much.”
Darcy shrugged. “It is possible he believes he harbors affection for you. But I am confident he engineered the scene of your compromise.” He cleared his throat. “That is hardly the act of a man who genuinely cares for your wellbeing.”
“No,” Elizabeth agreed faintly.
Darcy had expected her anger at the man to be more forceful. Was it possible she was wavering in her disdain for him?
He stepped toward her, wishing he dared to take her hand again. “I urge you…I beg of you…do not accept the man’s offer!”
She frowned, and her mouth dropped open slightly. Was he too forceful? Too close? He took a few steps backward.
“I assure you, sir, I have not the least intention of accepting his proposal. I would rather remain unmarried my whole life.” A muscle twitched in her jaw. Most likely she believed that would be her fate.
He had to disabuse her of that notion. He lurched toward her, intending to take her hand. “Elizabeth, I—”
Her eyes widened at this familiarity, but what he intended to say next was interrupted by the sound of footfalls from behind them. They turned their heads as Lord Henry rounded the bend. Red in the face and sweating profusely, Lord Henry was a bit worse for wear. Upon discovering Elizabeth and Darcy—and his horse—at the side of the road, he trudged to a halt.
Lord Henry straightened his waistcoat and fixed his cravat as he took in the scene before him. “Ah, here is Maximilian. Excellent,” the viscount said as if he had momentarily misplaced his horse and was relieved to have the temporary inconvenience resolved. He probably had intended to say something quite different to Elizabeth when he caught up to her, but Darcy’s presence confounded him. No doubt he was wondering how much Darcy knew about their situation.
Darcy untied the horse’s reins and handed them into Lord Henry’s keeping. The other man took them but then simply stood there unmoving. They maintained a silent tableau for several seconds. Darcy wanted to lead Elizabeth away but dared not turn his back on the other man.
The viscount pulled himself up to his full height, a few inches shorter than Darcy, and held out his hand to Elizabeth. “Elizabeth, come away. There are things we must discuss.”
“I have said everything that needs saying,” Elizabeth responded coolly.
The sound of her Christian name on the man’s lips made Darcy bristle. “You may speak in my presence,” he said.
Lord Henry made an irritated gesture. “She is my betrothed, Darcy. There are things we must discuss.”
Perhaps the viscount believed Elizabeth would not contradict him before witnesses. If so, he did not have a firm grasp on her character.
“I pray you, sir, remind me again when we became betrothed? I recall refusing your offer, and I am quite sure I have not told you otherwise.” Elizabeth’s eyes flashed as she spoke. “Do you remember our conversation differently?”
The sarcasm was not lost on Lord Henry. His face flushed even redder, and his lips were set in a thin line.
“I have found,” Darcy drawled, “that women usually know if they are betrothed.”
The viscount scowled at Elizabeth. “I do not believe you have a choice, my dear.”
“It is not the practice in England to force women into marriage,” Darcy said. “If Miss Bennet does not wish to be betrothed to you, she will not be.”
Lord Henry gave Darcy a disdainful look and then glared at Elizabeth. “You have no other options—after what has passed between us.”
Darcy’s insides curdled at these words. What had Elizabeth suffered? But he kept his face carefully blank.
Elizabeth frowned at the man, her hands balled into fists at her sides. “Nothing passed between us save some rather awkward compliments on my beauty and a very unappealing kiss.”
The viscount grimaced. “Nobody believes that was all! Your own family scoffed at the idea.”
It is interesting, Darcy thought, that when he is almost alone with Elizabeth, he does not bother to deny her assertion. Darcy folded his arms over his chest; perhaps that would prevent him from striking the other man. “I believe her,” he said forcefully.
Elizabeth’s head swung toward Darcy, her lips slightly apart.
Darcy continued, “In my experience, Miss Elizabeth has always been honest to a fault.” Elizabeth’s jaw dropped as he spoke; did she not expect him to come to her defense? “Further, I have too high an opinion of her judgment to believe she would willingly consort with you.”
The viscount was momentarily struck dumb at the insult. Another man might have challenged Darcy to a duel for such a slight, but Lord Henry was a coward. After a minute he regained control, straightening his shoulders with a sneer. “Now I see how it is, Darcy. You want her for yourself. I damaged the goods, and now you hope to purchase them at a reduced price.”
The callousness in the other man’s words made Darcy’s entire body tighten with anger. Surely Lord Henry did not believe that. Surely he did not regard Elizabeth as something to be bought and sold like a bolt of cloth in a milliner’s shop! Outrage stopped his throat.
“Well, I won’t have it!” Lord Henry declared. “I put forth the effort, and she is now mine for the taking.”
Darcy finally found his voice. “I do not have the aspirations to which you allude, sir.” His words were excruciatingly polite, but his tone was acid. He advanced on the other man, hoping to intimidate him into departing. “You have insulted me and this lady in every possible way. I suggest you mount your horse and leave before I am forced to take action!” Using his superior height to advantage, he loomed over the viscount, who backed away a few paces.
Lord Henry grasped his horse’s reins with a trembling hand, pointing a threatening finger at Darcy. “This is not over, Darcy! She is not yours to have. She is mine.”
Darcy was astonished at the sound of Elizabeth’s laughter. “And here I believed I belong to myself.” She tapped a thoughtful finger to her lips. “How in the world could I have been so mistaken?”
The viscount leered at her. “You will be mine! You shall see!” With a quick foot in the stirrup, he flung himself into the saddle, wheeled about his mount, and soon disappeared around the bend.
Only when he was sure the scoundrel was gone did Darcy turn his eyes to Elizabeth. She was frozen in the middle of the road, apparently horrified by these events. “I am sorry you were forced to witness that display of temper and ill manners,” he told her, keeping his voice low and calm.
She exhaled a shaky laugh. “Well, sir, you will not find my behavior recommended in a book of lady’s manners!”
Darcy grinned despite himself, running a hand through his unruly curls. “I fear Lord Henry does not bring out the best in me.”
“You need not apologize to me.” She blinked, refocusing her eyes on his face. “He…I…what did he mean? Why did he think you wanted me for yourself?” She gave a little laugh as if the whole notion was absurd.
It broke Darcy’s heart. Did she believe herself so unworthy of his attentions? He scrubbed his face with one hand, trying to think how to phrase it delicately. His father’s instructions on a gentleman’s conduct had never addressed how to converse with a lady on such a prurient subject. “I deduce from your statements that Lord Henry attempted—unsuccessfully—to compromise your virtue and then made it appear that he had?”
Elizabeth nodded mutely.
“I do not believe he did so with the intention of marrying you.”
A line formed between her brows. “But you said you believed he had tricked me—”
“He undoubtedly wished you to fall into his clutches. But once there, marriage is not his aim.”
“He made me an offer—”
“A promise he has no intention of fulfilling. I do not believe the viscount’s family is particularly well-heeled. He needs a rich wife.”
Her hand flew to her mouth. “He would not marry me at all?” she whispered in horror.
Darcy grimaced, hating to be the one to force her to see such ugliness. “It has been done before by unscrupulous men. He compromises your virtue, or makes everyone believe he has done so, until you have no recourse but to accept him. He would take you back to his estate with the promise of marriage, but the ceremony would never happen. Once there, you would be completely within his power. In such a way an unscrupulous man can force a woman to become his mistress.”
For a moment she appeared about to cast up her accounts. “I had not thought him as bad as all that,” she whispered. Darcy experienced the desire to apologize on behalf of his entire sex. “And he thought,” Elizabeth continued, “that you—?”
Darcy nodded grimly. “He thought I was interceding to steal his ‘prize’ at the last minute. But I assure you, Miss Elizabeth, I would never—”
“No, of course not,” Elizabeth said hastily as if the words were too awful to be uttered aloud. “You are an honorable man.”
Her simple statement brought Darcy an inordinate amount of pleasure. He fought the impulse to blurt out an offer of marriage on the spot. Elizabeth was shaken and disturbed by the viscount’s behavior and still seemed uneasy about Darcy’s presence. It was neither the time nor the place.
Still, he could not help envisioning Elizabeth’s surprise and joy when he made the offer. It would solve all of her problems. What a satisfying thought.
“Miss Elizabeth,” he asked, “will you permit me to escort you back to Longbourn? I would like to ensure you reach your home without further incident.”
Her mouth opened slightly as her eyes met his, and Darcy was seized by a fierce desire to taste her lips.
No. Now is not the time. He forced his eyes to focus on her hands.
“I…yes, I thank you, Mr. Darcy. And thank you for all of your assistance this day.”
“It was my pleasure, Miss Elizabeth.” Darcy took his horse’s reins in one hand and offered her his other arm. And it was thus that they strolled back to her home.