The Trouble with Mr. Darcy by Sharon Lathan Page B

tolerated it,” Lizzy put in with a laugh. Then she added, looking directly at Lady Catherine, “He much prefers a novel with a bit more excitement and controversy, like Tom Jones .”
    Lady Catherine was so stunned she could not form a reasonable response. Darcy shot his wife a glare, but she noticed the twitching of his lips. Denying the charge was impossible since it was true, so he said nothing. Thankfully the topic turned away from dubious literature at that point!
    But the worse forms of irritation to the priggish woman were unintentionally caused, and that was the blatant affection between her formerly staid nephew and the woman who had driven that good sense and propriety out of him. She was pleased on a certain level that Darcy was happy, as she was for Anne and Raul, finally accepting that her daughter never would have given Darcy what he needed and vice versa. She also accepted that the Darcys truly loved each other, and as ridiculous as she regarded that emotion, she was forced to acknowledge that Lizzy had not pursued him for his wealth and position as Lady Catherine had surmised. That acceptance did not necessarily mean she approved of his choice or saw Lizzy any differently than she did before, however. Witnessing his frivolity, as she interpreted it, and catching them amid loving displays only served to confirm her opinion of Elizabeth’s character.
    Anne and Raul knew when to show affection, and that was behind a firmly closed door. The two were overwhelmingly in love, but other than polite pecks on the cheek or sappy gazes, they restrained themselves. Lizzy and Darcy had never learned to master that extreme caution, nor had they overly tried. They did not wantonly embrace or kiss in public, Darcy sooner dying than to go that far, but they were definitely more demonstrative than typically customary and, if alone, they could, and often did, lose control to a degree.
    “William, come! A whole family of ducks is being herded by Lady Catherine’s corgi. It is hysterical!”
    He rose from his seat to join his wife by the library window where she stood watching the antics of the corgi, he intent on rounding the uncooperative ducks and ducklings. “I believe my aunt would have a seizure if she knew her prized pet was playing with farm animals,” he rumbled, breaking into a laugh when one of the ducks snapped at the yipping dog’s tail, missing by less than an inch.
    They watched the entire escapade, the corgi finally triumphing when every last duck entered the pond. Darcy unconsciously caressed the small of her back, his hand gliding over her waist when she turned and leaned into the window’s edge. “He does well for a little thing. Perhaps we should think of getting one. They are quite cute.”
    “Dogs are meant to guard and protect, not be useless balls of fur labeled ‘cute’ that yap constantly and tread through the house.”
    “You mean like our cat? That worthless ball of fur who ends up curled by your feet and has never once been kicked aside as you threaten to do on a daily basis?”
    Darcy smiled, reaching to slowly sweep a loose curl off her cheek and tuck it behind her ear. “He catches mice, therefore earning his keep. Plus he keeps my feet warm.”
    “Your feet are never cold, Mr. Darcy, so I am not buying that for a second. I think a fluffy corgi would worm his way into your heart until you are spoiling him worse than I. Dare you deny it?”
    “I shall maintain my silence on the subject.” His fingers brushed over her cheeks and down her neck, his eyes following. “What I shall not deny is how lovely you look with the sun striking your skin and that amused sparkle in your eyes. I am breathless and suddenly thirsty.”
    “Shall I pour you some water, sir? Will that alleviate your distress?”
    “Not in the least, minx.” He bent his head, planting a delicate kiss to her collarbone, right where the sun’s ray illuminated. He continued to deliver airy kisses and feathery touches of