“You might be surprised.” She arched a brow and gave him that look he loved. “My mother is not as inclined to think of me as such. She says I am far too wild to be considered delicate.”

He scoffed. “As if she—,” he stopped, seeing her brow raised and her eyes a mix of censure and amusement. “I, ahem, I’m sure she’s mistaken. You are all that is lovely and delicate.”

At this, Elizabeth had to laugh. It was a soft, chiming sound, like the wind in the trees in autumn or the church bells at Christmas. Overcome with a sudden rush of affection for her, he blurted, “God, how I love you.”

Her retort about him recovering from his faux pas so nicely died on her lips along with her laughter, and she was left looking into his eyes as he regarded her with an intensity she’d seldom seen. She reached across the table and took his hand in both of hers, pressing it firmly and stroking his knuckles with her thumb.

The marmalade cat that made himself at home in their garden took that opportunity to mew loudly at their feet, breaking the moment. She laughed self-consciously and released his hand, busying herself with refilling his cup and then her own.

“When are you returning to London? Shall you accompany us on Wednesday?”

“I’m afraid I must return tomorrow.” He was comforted by the slight look of displeasure on her face. “I have much business to tend to before we leave town, and I want to devote the days immediately following the wedding to my new wife.” He couldn’t help it; he verily beamed with pride at the pronouncement that this exquisite creature sitting opposite him would soon be his wife.

She returned his smile. “What a dutiful and attentive husband I am acquiring.”

He smiled at her tease and took her hand again.

“That is something I wished to talk with you about,” she said.

“Oh? About me being a dutiful husband?”

She smiled again and tilted her head flirtatiously. “You are getting better at teasing, Mr. Darcy. I approve.”

He nodded his thanks and she continued, “I wanted to ask you what sort of marriage you wished to have.”

His brows rose quizzically and he sat up a bit straighter. “What do you mean exactly?” he asked, a mad thought running through his mind that perhaps she wished to discuss their sleeping arrangements.

“Well, I mean what sort of relationship will exist between us? Shall we be friends as well as spouses?” She could not bring herself to say lovers. “Meaning, what sort of conversations will we have? What will we confide in each other, if anything? Who will have your first loyalty—your family and friends or me? Do you wish me to come to you with my troubles or to sort them out on my own? What sort of closeness shall exist between us?”