Page 39 of Cousin Conundrum

Elizabeth gasped, reaching out. Bereft.

He whirled away from her, presenting his back. His shoulders rose and fell with each harsh breath. His hands fisted at his sides.

“M-mr. Darcy?” she stammered as shame found her. What had she done?

Stood alone in the dark with a man and kissed him, that’s what. Who was she? Not the intelligent, sensible, quick-thinking woman she thought.

“Please. Leave.”

His voice, rough and low, sent a shiver through her. One that drew her a step closer. “Leave?”

“Yes. Leave me. Now.”

Anger sparked, cutting into mortification and desire both. “One kiss does not entitle you to order me about.”

“I—” He pushed his hands through his hair, his back still to her. “I do not order. I beg. Please tempt me no further.”

She tempted him? She touched her lips, where his had felt so right. That was all, then? A kiss and then a dismissal. Yet, what more could there be? What did she believe, that this man who hardly knew her, who she knew not at all, would tender an offer to her? If he did, she would be foolish to accept. Before now, they had never even spoken.

And yet… “I have never been kissed before, but this is not, I think, how a kiss should end,” she said tentatively. Should he not at least ask to call on her? They could walk, or she could play for him, or—

“How should it end?” his rough words broke into her thoughts, but before she could reply, he blurted, “No. For the sake of my sanity, do not answer that. Go. Please.”

Elizabeth studied his back. The tension in his broad shoulders. He seemed distraught. Almost angry. Did he have such strong, quick regret for kissing her?

Maybe he’d lied about not being engaged? Or perhaps she’d gone about it wrong? Had not been, well, good at kissing?

Fresh shame washed through her. Embarrassment so acute her insides hurt. Whirling away, she marched back to the door and into the assembly hall.

She strode along the wall, taking deep breaths. Sighting her mother, she turned, hurrying the opposite way. A swirl of hem caught her eye, neatly embroidered with roses. Charlotte. No, her friend would read Elizabeth’s distress all too quickly.

Elizabeth dived into the crush of people. She cut across the room, her stature assisting her in hiding from any who knew her. She required space, and to still the quaking rattling every limb. A tremble born of shame, confusion, and the desperate need to kiss Mr. Darcy again.

Which was very unlikely. Indeed, she would never see the man again, let alone kiss him. Not after how wantonly she’d behaved. He must think her the worst sort of hoyden. Or, even more terrible, a woman who sought to entrap him.

She had broken every rule. Ignored all propriety, and now she would never come to know Mr. Darcy. He would certainly never court her. She’d ruined any opportunity. And for what?

The most amazing kiss to have ever happened.

Not that she had anything with which to compare, and not that he seemed to enjoy the exchange.

Elizabeth reached the far wall of the assembly hall and fought against the urge to bang her forehead into it until she jarred free all memory of what she’d done.

“There you are.” Kitty appeared beside her. “I have been looking everywhere for you. Why are you staring at the wall?” Her sister peered at her. “What is wrong with your face?”

Her face? Did kissing a man do something to your face? Heaven above, could everyone tell she’d just been kissed? “My face?”

“Yes. You look as though a carriage has nearly run you down, but halted just before hitting you.”

Elizabeth let out a slightly manic chuckle.

Kitty’s brow furrowed. “Are you well?”

Gasping for breath, Elizabeth swiped tears from her eyes. “I am…I am tired, and overwarm, and distressed at how the evening has progressed.”

“You mean the Archers.” Kitty nodded knowingly, her forehead smoothing. “It is awful of them to be here, swooping up all the most eligible gentlemen. Especially when so few have ever come here before now.”

“Yes,” Elizabeth murmured, struggling for even, slow breaths.