Page 85 of Mr. Darcy's Complex Courtship
“I see.”
Mr. Oakley’s brow crinkled. “I hope you do not take offence, but I am puzzled why a gentleman of your standing would embrace a cousin who worked as an artist—that alone is exceptional.”
My deportment stiffened—the man had audacity. I glanced at Miles, who crossed his arms and smirked; he stood behind Mr. Oakley and near enough to overhear his remarks.
“But for your wife to publish a book usingyour nameis still more difficult to comprehend. Why did you allow her to do this?”
With effort, I suppressed my pique. Mr. Oakley was neither the first to broach the subject, nor would he be the last. “Darcy is my wife’s name—nothing could be more natural and just than for her to use it.”
“Yes, but most ladies of any consequence either write under an alias or publish anonymously. For her to make a spectacle of herself this way…” His features constricted. “Are you not concerned her actions will damage your…reputation?”
“Not in the least. I cannot be troubled over the opinions of those who are intolerant and inflexible in their beliefs. I am proud to celebrate the achievements of my wife and cousin. They both have enriched my life in ways too numerous to mention.” I stepped to the side and swept my arm towards Miles and Amelia, who offered complacent smiles. “Mr. Oakley, I do not believe you have had the pleasure of meeting my cousin, Mr. Miles Darcy, and his wife, Mrs. Darcy.”
The gentleman coughed and bowed to Amelia and Miles in turn. “Ah no, I have not. How do you do?”
Miles and Amelia extended their greetings.
Following a quick look over his shoulder, Mr. Oakley consulted his watch. “The hour is late, so if you will excuse me…” He edged away and went to join his wife.
Amelia bent her upper body nearer to me. “Is he a friend of yours?”
“An acquaintance, I should say.”
She straightened, and her gaze followed Mr. Oakley’s progress to Mrs. Oakley, who clutched a copy of Elizabeth’s book to her chest. “I am inclined to think well of his wife at least.”
“You have the right of it.”
Lady Matlock beckoned Miles and Amelia to join her group. I wandered to the side of the room and chose a seat with an unobstructed view of Elizabeth. She bestowed a sweet smile upon a lady in her seventh decade who handed over a copy ofThe Wayward Heart. My wife had written the first few chapters of a new manuscript inspired by Miles and Amelia’s romance, with sufficient alterations to prevent anyone guessing the story’s origin.
At last, Mrs. Fortescue declared the event to be over, and my darling wife strode in my direction, her pupils fixed upon me. “Well, this has been diverting, but I am relieved to have reached the end. I hope you did not find the reading to be tedious.”
I lifted her hand to bestow a kiss. “No, I adore listening to your voice. And several of the ladies posed insightful questions.”
“Yes, they did. Shall we collect our sisters and make our farewells? I thought we might return home via Gunter’s.”
“That is a fine suggestion.”
Her head tilted as her left eyebrow arched. “Do you know how much I love you?”
“I may, but perhaps you will be good enough to remind me this evening.”
“Her fine, hazel eyes widened and lingered upon me in a way that never failed to stir my blood. “You may depend upon it, Mr. Darcy.” She slipped her arm around mine, and we made our way to Lady Matlock.
At moments such as these, I marvelled at my amazing prosperity. Thanks to the addition of Elizabeth and Miles in my life, I have enjoyed wondrous sources of happiness, the likes of which I could never have conceived before I won the heart of an enchanting and singular lady from Hertfordshire.
