Mr. Darcy's Obsession by Abigail Reynolds Read Free Book Online Page A

"Distasteful! Oliver Cromwell has been dead for a century and a half, Darcy. What a fine Puritan you would have made!"
    Darcy drained his glass of port and set it down hard enough that the crystal rang. "Better a Puritan than a wastrel."
    His uncle's eyes narrowed. Darcy steeled himself for a demonstration of the famous Fitzwilliam temper.
    This time it was Henry who intervened, stretching his feet out in front of himself and folding his hands behind his head. "Now, Father," he drawled. "Be kind. Can you not see the poor boy is in love?" He smirked at Darcy.
    Darcy's heart skipped a beat. "I am not in love!"
    Henry's eyes held a look of spiteful glee. "Methinks the gentleman doth protest too much! I have seen you staring out the window at nothing, taking long walks around the park and refusing company, reading love poetry. Such a long face, though. Is it so hard to be separated from your mistress for a fortnight?"
    "I have no mistress," Darcy said evenly. Henry could be like a foxhound when he scented blood.
    The earl gestured to Richard to pour another round of port. "No mistress? What, did you happen to fall in love with one of the few virtuous wives in England? If not a wife, between your money and your name, you can marry at will, and if she is not appropriate, you can afford her price."
    The vision of Elizabeth's sparkling eyes laughing at him, making a mockery of the dull brown of Moorsfield, came before him. "Not every woman has a price," he said, his words clipped.
    "Pish-posh." Henry raised his glass to Darcy. "All women have their price. You have not bid high enough yet. Find out what she truly desires and give it to her. Dangle it in front of her. Or compromise her so she has no choice but to be your mistress."
    Rage began to bubble in Darcy's chest. "When I desire to become a rake, I will certainly come to you for lessons, cousin. Until then, pray speak of ladies with respect in front of me."
    Henry turned to his father mockingly and pointed a finger towards Darcy. "See, Father? He is in love."
    The earl stroked his beard. "I do believe you are correct. Who is she, Darcy?"
    "She is no one! There is no such woman."
    "She is no one, eh? What sort of no one is she?"
    Darcy debated how high the price would be if he walked out of the room that instant. Too high, in all probability. The earl knew his weak point and would needle Georgiana mercilessly for the pleasure of seeing Darcy squirm. "Must I invent a lady to satisfy you, then?"
    Henry's smile showed he had scented the blood. "Father, I wager you a thousand pounds I can find her before you do. And find her price."
    "And enjoy her before he does? No, Henry, save those tricks for your friends. Darcy is family," the earl said. "Now, Darcy, would you not rather tell us who she is than raise Henry's curiosity?"
    Was this how the fox felt when he heard the horns of the hunt? Thank God he had decided to stay away from Moorsfield. There was nothing for them to find; no one knew where he went each morning. "Look all you like, if you enjoy chasing wild geese."
    Richard shot him a warning glance. "Have it your way, Darcy, but I am glad not to be so choosy as you. There is a lovely lady on Drury Lane who has caught my fancy. A face that would launch ships and a figure to die for. Unfortunately, she belongs to someone else, but I can wait until he tires of her."
    Henry waggled a finger at his younger brother. "Or go backstage between the acts with a pearl necklace, and I wager you will be satisfied. Which theatre?"
    "The Haymarket. Mrs. Symons. Stunning chestnut hair, green eyes, and a dulcet voice."
    Henry snapped his fingers. "I know the very one! I saw her in The Country Wife. "
    Richard raised his eyebrows. "Last I heard, that play was still banned."
    "Nothing is banned if Prinny wants it enough. They did a private performance for him."
    Richard helped himself to another glass of port and then took the chair between Darcy and Henry. "Tell me, is it as wicked as they