Page 161 of What Change Entails

The mare flicked her ears again, perhaps offended by the disturbance.

Elizabeth watched him with a satisfaction too great to hide. “There. That is what I mean.”

“What do you mean?”

“You laugh more now.”

His humor softened, though not into sadness. “Do I?”

“Yes. Georgiana notices too.”

“She has had cause to worry over my spirits.” His face grew sober as he spoke.

“She loves you.”

“I know.” The simplicity of his answer touched her. No vanity. No embarrassment. Merely gratitude, worn deeply.

“And you love her very much,” Elizabeth said.

“She is my first duty and one of my greatest comforts.”

“Then I am glad Lydia has been good for her.”

Darcy nodded. “I am glad as well. It has required some rearrangement of my opinions.”

“Painful?”

“Frequently.”

“I hope you survived.” Lydia could be a menace when she wanted.

“Barely. Your sister is formidable.”

Elizabeth laughed softly. “Lydia will be unbearable when she learns that, too.”

“She is already unbearable.” Darcy watched the road, but his mouth curved up in a smile.

“And yet you are fond.”

“Yes.”

There was no resisting the tenderness that rose in her then. Tenderness for Georgiana, who had found a friend where no one would have thought to seek one. For Lydia, who had somehow stumbled into loyalty and grown a little because of it. For Darcy, who could revise his judgments and admit it with more grace than most men would ever attempt.

The gig moved down a shaded lane and passed through a patch of sunlight so bright Elizabeth had to lower her eyes. Darcy guided the mare around a rut, his arm brushing hers. The brief contact now carried the memory of his embrace, and she had to draw in a careful breath.

He noticed.

Of course he did.

“I am trying,” he said softly, “to behave with appropriate restraint.”

“Are you?”

“Yes.”

“How unfortunate.” She rather liked it when he kissed her.

His hand caressed hers.