The Most Interesting Man in the World by Jan Ashton & Justine Rivard

Author:Jan Ashton & Justine Rivard [Ashton, Jan & Rivard, Justine]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781951033255
Publisher: Quills & Quartos Publishing
Published: 2020-02-10T05:00:00+00:00

Darcy sensed Bingley behind him then felt the shorter man’s arms wrap around his shoulders in an awkward hug. He froze and averted his eyes from his cousin’s laughing visage.

“Thank you, Dar…”

Darcy stumbled forward with the full weight of a drunk, sleeping Bingley on his back. Twisting around and pulling at Bingley’s hands, Darcy clumsily deposited him onto the window seat before lifting his feet and stretching him out onto the long bench.

“Absentem laedit cum ebrio qui litigat,” mumbled Darcy. He glanced at his cousin, never a student of Latin, and translated. “To quarrel with a drunk is to wrong a man who is not even there.”

Archie rolled his eyes before he looked at Darcy with obvious pity. “Well, Cousin, that was quite a great confession Bingley made there. You will have to tell him some time.”

“Yes. I…I cannot bear to do it this evening.” Darcy leaned against the wall with one hand, his head down in defeat, and gazed upon his sleeping friend.

The colonel jumped down from his perch and clapped him on the back. “No, I think you have suffered enough humiliation for the next fortnight or so. Save it till later. Just imagine how exponentially his anger will have grown by the time all is revealed!”

Darcy flinched and took a few unsteady steps towards the near-empty decanter.

“Will you confess all to him or only the parts that affect his heart? Does he have any idea what you have been grappling with all these many months?” Archie rubbed his stomach and gazed at his cousin. “You would feel far better if you ate something.”

Darcy shook his head, then immediately stopped and winced from the pain. “Archie, do you not understand? I do not wish to feel anything. I want to stop thinking and remembering and castigating myself.” He poured the last of the golden liquid into his glass and stared at it. In a low voice, he asked, “Is there not such a thing as true love? Is it possible for it to be felt only on one side?” He sighed deeply. “Which circle of hell is this?”

Bingley began snoring and curled up into a tight ball. The colonel covered him with his discarded jacket and belched.

“Love’s true arrow can never go awry, Darcy. The archer must practice, but he gains proficiency and, in the end, wins the heart he seeks. Or finds a new target.”

Confused, Darcy rubbed his neck. “I have never asked, Archie. Do you speak of yourself? Have you been wounded by Cupid’s arrow?”

The colonel smirked and turned away. “Not as you have been. I have never been that clumsy with a declaration.” He snatched a cushion from the settee and restored himself to his perch atop the ruined billiards table. He stretched out, boots crossed at the ankles, laid his head on the purloined pad, and groaned. “There was a blonde girl in Rouen who once caught my eye and nearly captured my heart.”

Darcy sat with a thud upon the settee. “But when? I never knew.

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