She felt lighter than she had in weeks and laughed with her sisters, occasionally chiming in on the men’s conversation. When she made intelligent comments, Darcy would look at her with a certain light in his eyes and smile, and she felt a warmth towards him she had hitherto never felt before.

Soon enough dinner was over and the Bennets left for their card party. Elizabeth led Darcy to the parlor where she sat on a settee near the window. He sat next to her, not too close, and laid his hand beside hers on the seat.

“I enjoyed dinner very much,” he said.

“I am glad. My mother will be pleased. She enjoys hosting.”

“She was a very able hostess and the meal was quite fine, but I enjoyed the company more.”

She smiled warmly at him and he could not resist placing his hand over hers on the cushion.

“Elizabeth, you are lovely,” he said softly, his body turned in her direction.

She blushed and looked down. “You flatter me, Mr. Darcy.”

“I speak the truth. And my name is Fitzwilliam.”

She laughed. “Yes, I’ve noticed you’ve wasted no time at all calling me Elizabeth.”

“What do you mean?”

“Simply that as soon as I accepted your proposal, I was Elizabeth to you. You have not called me Miss Bennet or Miss Elizabeth once. You are very good at the proprieties, Mr. Darcy,” she said teasingly.

“Not all the proprieties, Miss Bennet.” She raised a brow in question and he looked around the empty room, raising his own brow in response.

She flushed again, annoyed at herself for this ridiculous tendency, and answered, “Touché, Fitzwilliam.”

He smiled when she said his name and scooted a little closer, moving their joined hands to his knee. “Propriety has its place, but there are times when it should be set aside.”

“Really? Like when?”

“When a man desperately wishes to kiss his betrothed.”

Her mouth formed a silent ‘O’ and she looked at him wide-eyed, her mouth going just a little dry.

“Elizabeth,” he whispered, leaning closer and closer until looking at him made her eyes cross. She closed her eyes and the next thing she knew there was a warm, soft sensation on her lips, and then it was over.

“Oh,” she said after opening her eyes.

He smiled and squeezed her hand. “I am pleased to be your first kiss.”

“How do you know you are my first kiss?”

“Some things are evident, my dear.”

She flushed in embarrassment and looked away, saying indignantly, “Would you prefer a woman who kissed every man she came across?” He laughed. A deep, happy sound that echoed across the empty room. She stood to leave. “I am glad you are amused, Mr. Darcy. Excuse me.” But was stopped by his hand grasping hers.