Adam never discussed his aversion to responsibility with anyone. At five and twenty, he accepted no real accountability. His father, Robert Lawrence, made all the decisions: where Adam lived, where he attended school, how much money he could spend, and where he bought his clothes and his horses. His father never needed Adam to do more than be his heir. Most of the time, Adam felt quite useless. However, he never let anyone see that side of his personality. To the world, he showed an aristocratic face and an inscrutable nature. He received what he wanted, when he wanted it—so why complain.

Glancing at Cathleen again, Adam saw her stir. She looked exceedingly appealing with her disheveled hair and dress. Cathleen groaned and stretched before sitting up. “Did I sleep long?” she asked huskily, sleep still lingering on her tongue.

“Less than an hour,” Adam answered before moving next to her. He quickly gathered Cathleen into his arms. “You look delicious.” Adam brushed his lips across hers.

As she should, Cathleen laced her arms about his neck.After all, Lawrence was completely masculine—narrow waist; well-formed chest and back; muscular legs and hips; dark, straight hair—actually worn a bit too long for her taste; and gray—actually, silver—eyes. He was the kind of man that women desired immediately. And he was good to her. Only recently, Adam had bought her a gold-leaf book, one she had seen in the window of an upscale bookstore and wanted immediately. A collection of fairy tales, most from the Brothers Grimm, the book was not a first edition but a limited printing, and Cathleen loved it more than many of the jewels and gowns she earned with her body. She had never owned a book—she read well, but her family lacked the wealth to own books other than the Bible.The uncle she rushed to comfort was a minor Irish nobleman—a baron, but nothing like the relatives that her handsome lover, Lord Stafford, claimed. Her uncle’s family worked the land; Cathleen was sure Lord Stafford would bolt if someone even suggested that he might dirty his hands.

“Do you desire delicious?” she asked teasingly, sliding her tongue along the line of Adam’s lips.

“I am more than hungry,” he growled and then nibbled her earlobe to emphasize his point.

Cathleen laughed lightly. “You are always hungry, my Lord.”

“Do you object?”Adam pulled back to take in her countenance.

“Absolutely not. I am a blessed woman; you chose me.”

Lawrence knew Cathleen uttered the words he paid her to say, but a part of him wanted her to care about him simply because he was Adam Lawrence, not because he would someday be an earl. Dismissing such thoughts, he deepened the kiss.Then he said, “We will try to make it to Cheshire itself this evening, although Mobberley may be an impossibility before dark.”

She kissed along the line of his cravat. “Then we have time?”

“Plenty of time,” he murmured.

When his butler, Mr. Baldwin, announced the arrival of Lady Catherine de Bourgh, Darcy shot a quick glance at Elizabeth before ordering the man to show his indomitable aunt in. He and Elizabeth were sharing time in his study, as had become their habit. In reality, Darcy did not like to be too far from his wife; they did not always talk or even keep each other company, but he liked to look up and see her in his home. Before he had won Elizabeth’s heart, he had envisioned such moments—had seen her everywhere—on the main staircase, at his table, in his garden, and in his bed. Today, Elizabeth worked at her embroidery, something not necessarily her forte. She bit her bottom lip in frustration as her thread knotted again. No matter. Darcy found contentment in the scene.

Now, Elizabeth’s eyes widened. Neither of them had seen his mother’s only sister since that day the woman had actually taken the trouble to journey from her home seat of Rosings Park in Kent to Hertfordshire for the sole purpose of breaking off Darcy’s and Elizabeth’s supposed engagement. This was before Darcy had proposed to Elizabeth Bennet a second time. She had vehemently refused him the first, and he had striven to prove himself worthy of her love. However, his aunt had held a starkly different opinion of their possible union, and she had made no bones about her objections.

That day, Lady Catherine had verbally attacked Elizabeth—quite ungraciously—accusing his future wife of industriously circulating scandalous falsehoods. His aunt had lambasted Elizabeth, saying, “Your arts and allurement may, in a moment of infatuation, have made Darcy forget what he owes to himself and to all his family.”

When Elizabeth had steadfastly refused to succumb to Her Ladyship during this extraordinary visit, his aunt had rushed to London to enumerate the miseries of a marriage with one whose immediate connections were so unequal to those of her and Darcy’s family. What Lady Catherine had not considered was the violence of the love her nephew felt for Elizabeth Bennet. His aunt’s words, instead of turning Darcy from the woman he loved, had taught him to hope as he had scarcely allowed himself previously—actually not since before he erroneously thought Elizabeth to be expecting his attentions during that first ill-fated proposal. He had known enough of Elizabeth’s disposition to be certain that had she been absolutely and irrevocably decided against him, she would have acknowledged it to Lady Catherine frankly and openly. When he had been approached, Darcy abruptly ended his aunt’s interference in his life and immediately boarded his coach, returning to Longbourn to judge whether Elizabeth might finally accept him.

Unfortunately, Darcy’s engagement and ultimate marriage to his Elizabeth had served to sever ties with his aunt. Lady Catherine preferred to “control” everything within her own “parish.” The minutest concerns of her tenants were Her Ladyship’s domain; in the same way, she expected to lord her power over her family, as well. When her cottagers were disposed to be quarrelsome, discontented, or too poor, she sailed forth into the village to settle their differences, silence their complaints, and scold them into harmony and plenty. When Darcy had defied her orders to abandon his fascination with Elizabeth Bennet and instead honor what his aunt saw as an engagement to his cousin Anne, Lady Catherine had indignantly declared herself to be finished with him.

Following propriety, Darcy had written to her to announce his engagement and the impending marriage. Lady Catherine had given way to all the genuine frankness of her character in her reply, sending her nephew language so abusive, especially of Elizabeth, that for some time all intercourse between Darcy and his aunt was at an end.

But, at length, by Elizabeth’s persuasion, he had been prevailed on to overlook the offense and to seek a reconciliation. Darcy admired Elizabeth’s ability to forgive, although he suspected her insistence came from the fact that his wife missed her own family desperately, and like it or not, Lady Catherine and the Matlocks were his only family, besides Georgiana. The woman had guided him when his mother had passed, and Darcy knew her heart to be in the right place. So although she had yet to respond, for the past six months, he had written to her monthly with family news. At least, she had not returned his letters unopened; he had supposed that to be a positive sign. Now she had arrived, unannounced, at Pemberley. Darcy expected trouble.

“Show Her Ladyship in, Mr. Baldwin,” Darcy stood to acknowledge the woman he had thought never to see again.

Elizabeth placed her sewing on a side table and rose to receive their guest. He noted how she fidgeted with the seams of her dress and patted her hair to make sure nothing was out of place. When she saw him watching her, Elizabeth colored. Darcy chuckled and winked just as Lady Catherine’s footsteps heralded her appearance. Mr. Baldwin opened the door farther and announced,“Lady Catherine de Bourgh,” before stepping aside.

She swept into the room, all haughty grandeur, but Darcy noted immediately the gauntness of her face under the thick cosmetics she wore “Aunt,” he said, “I am pleased to see you at Pemberley again.” He bowed to her and came forward to accept the hand she offered. “Come, let me show you to a chair before the hearth.”

Without waiting for Lady Catherine condescension, Elizabeth established herself as the manor’s mistress. She dropped a curtsy to the woman before adding, “Welcome, Lady Catherine. Is Miss de Bourgh not joining us today?”

The woman answered the query in a shaking voice without looking directly at Elizabeth. “I sent Anne and Mrs. Jenkinson to their regular rooms. The trip has taken its toll on Anne’s constitution ; she has always been of a delicate nature.”

“I see.” Elizabeth ordered tea for three from Mr. Baldwin. Then she said to her husband and his aunt, “If you will excuse me, I will see to Miss de Bourgh’s comfort.”

“Of course, my Dear,” Darcy replied. Lady Catherine remained silent. As Elizabeth turned to leave, Darcy added, “Please rejoin us at your convenience.”

When the door clicked behind her, Darcy seated himself beside his less-than-affable aunt. He pasted a smile on his face before speaking.“Lady Catherine, although unexpected, you are welcome in my home.” Darcy could not help but note her trembling hands. “I assume, Aunt, that this is not simply a social call.”

“Hardly, Darcy,” she declared, more strength in her voice this time.“I need your help or else I would never lower myself to return to this estate, especially with that woman here.”

Darcy had expected as much, but her words set him on edge. “Your Ladyship, as much as I have always held an affection for you and have esteemed you, I must caution you regarding your word choice. Elizabeth is my wife, and I will tolerate no disrespect where she is concerned. I have never been happier, and before I will let you ill-use her, I will send you from Pemberley permanently.” Darcy paused to emphasize the truth of his words. “Now, I am more than willing to serve you with those stipulations.”

“If you had fulfilled your obligation to your cousin, I would never be finding a need to seek your relief,” she asserted.

“As much as I respect Anne, we would not have suited each other. I needed a woman at Pemberley who could help me bring the estate to right; with all the temptations of fast money the cottagers see in the bigger cities, it takes a different temperament to address the changes coming to this country. Mrs. Darcy is that woman—a woman of resilience and adventure.”

“Adventure?” she said and snorted.“If that was what you sought, then Anne would have been a better match.”

“With no disrespect,” Darcy spoke with a twinge of irony lacing his tone, “the words Anne and adventure are not ones I would think in harmony.”