The Master and Mistress of Pemberley entered the room arm-in-arm, taking in the gay atmosphere with happy smiles. But before either could speak, the birthday girl’s voice interrupted their thoughts and cut through the lively air.

“As far as I am concerned, Hugh Pomeroy can fall off a cliff. Good riddance, I say. He better not say a word to me or I will give him a piece of my mind!”

They turned to see their eldest daughter flouncing angrily toward them, her face a thundercloud. She was talking to Jane and Mary, both women trying hard not to laugh.

The object of Noella’s harsh dismissal stood several paces inside the door talking to Michael. He glanced up at the irate declaration, but instead of looking worried he grinned and started chuckling. Michael grabbed his arm and forcefully propelled him across the room to a curtained alcove.

“All right, what did you do to my sister now?” He looked at his friend with murder in his eyes. “I saw you two sneaking away last night but trusted your honor, Hugh Pomeroy. I can and will beat you to a bloody pulp if you hurt my sister.”

Hugh pointedly stared at the colorful bruise encircling Michael’s swollen right eye. “That I am well aware of, my friend. Your beating me, I mean. Your success in the boxing ring leaves me no doubt of that. But quit glowering at me, will you? I think it is rather what I didn’t do that has her up in arms.” And then he began to laugh. He snuck a peek through the drapes to see a visibly furious Noella ranting on to Audrey and several of her female cousins. “Oh, this is too rich!”

“What in blazes are you talking about?”

Hugh opened his mouth to respond but was interrupted by the abrupt parting of the curtains. “Are you two hiding in here?”

“Go away, little boy. This is a man’s conversation.”

Nathaniel merely rolled his eyes at his brother, ignoring the severe glare, and stepped into the alcove. “You might want to stay out of sight for a while, cousin. Unless you enjoy tongue-lashings. Noella may well sear the skin off your bones this time. What did you do anyway?”

Hugh shrugged. “Miss Darcy may have been informed by a reliable source that she was to be proposed to last night.”

“She did?”

“And you didn’t?”

“Yes,” he nodded to Nathaniel, “and no I did not,” he directed to Michael, who whistled and shook his head.

“Who told her that?”

Hugh flushed slightly but flashed a cocky grin. “I might have mentioned my intent to Hannah and Audrey, and Deborah and Margaret, who probably shared the secret information with Noella. Just speculating.”

“And then you didn’t propose? Are you insane? If you want to die an early death, let me do it. It will probably be less painful.”

“Thanks,” he said dryly, “I’ll keep that in mind. Relax, I have a plan.”

“Napoleon had a plan too. Look how well that turned out.”

“I am confused,” Nathaniel frowned. “Have you spoken to Father yet? I mean, we all know Noella’s been after you for ages, and frankly I think you’re a loon to marry her, but are you or not?”

Hugh stared at Nathaniel, weighing carefully before speaking. “Listen, Nat. This is serious, so you must remain silent. Your sister’s happiness depends on it.” Suddenly sober and exhibiting maturity beyond his ten years, Nathaniel nodded. Michael looked as solemn as his younger brother. “Here it is. I spoke with Uncle William and my father months ago, before Noella’s debut in Town, as a matter of fact. Your father was firm on waiting until after Noella experienced one Season.” He grimaced, the momentary flash of pain as the confident cast fell from his face more telling than his words. “Blast, that was awful. Her dancing at Almack’s, flirting with those blighters, watching them fawn over her. I wanted to wring their scrawny, lily-white necks!” He clenched his fists, then coughed and gathered his wits, finally shrugging again and relaxing, although his voice remained strained. “He wanted me to wait until she was eighteen. I didn’t want to hear it, but he was correct. Plus, it gave me time to prepare and establish myself. Father has helped with that, so by the time we marry I will have a proper home for her.”

“So…” Michael scratched his temple, “Does that mean you are going to propose today then? Last night was a diversion?”

“Nope!” And the arrogant grin was back. “At the Cole’s Twelfth Night Masque!”

Both Nathaniel and Michael stared, more confused than ever. Hugh threw back his head and laughed. Then he clapped them on the shoulder. “Just wait and see. I have it all planned, with the help of Aunt Elizabeth and my mother. What is grander than a spectacular proposal at the preeminent ball of the holiday with all of Derbyshire’s elite witnessing? It shall be epic. Miss Darcy will be the shining star, envied and honored, stealing the limelight from everyone, the crowning glory of the evening. And I will be the luckiest man in England when she says yes.”

“If she doesn’t kill you between now and then. I think it may be the longest twelve days of your life, my friend.”

Hugh’s dreamy expression and broad smile were assured and slightly lewd. “Trust me. I know how to handle Noella Darcy. I am probably the only man on earth who can. By the time we return from church, she will have forgiven me and will be expressing her adoration fervently.”

Nathaniel muttered something about that being disgusting while Michael renewed his threat to pummel Hugh black-and-blue if he touched his sister. Hugh merely laughed as he bravely exited the sheltered alcove.

Noella’s glare may well have burned Hugh’s skin with its intensity—her choler not aided by the gleaming smile he flashed in her direction—but the nonverbal exchange was quickly interrupted by the appearance of Audrey. The dainty girl was dwarfed between the towering Dr. Darcy and his burly apprentice, Dr. Vaughan, yet all eyes instantly fixed upon her face. Tranquility radiated from her core, a glamour of peace and innocence that none could resist when she was near, or even in the same room. Her ethereal beauty was breathtaking and wholly untarnished by the slight sag to her left eye and mouth. She was mesmerizing, in a multitude of ways, and none escaped the spell she cast.

“Michael, we have a poultice of arnica, comfrey, and parsley for you to place onto your eye. It will reduce the swelling and diminish the bruising.”

“Audrey prepared it herself,” Dr. Darcy interjected, the aged but spry physician gazing at his niece with overwhelming pride. “Excellent work by the best assistant I have ever had. No offense, Dr. Vaughan.”

“None taken, sir. And I agree with your assessment. Miss Darcy’s apothecary skills and knowledge of herbals exceed any I have seen, even those at college.”

Audrey pinked under the praise and penetrating look from the young doctor. But her voice was firm and clinical as she instructed her brother. “You must apply this as a compress as often as possible. If you keep it fresh and in place, your eye will be almost normal by evening.”

“Why would I want to do that? I won the fight fair and square, and wear my only wound with honor. Received a purse of twenty sovereigns for the win and plenty from private betting.” He winked at his uncle, “I told you not to bet against me, Uncle George.”

George winced, glancing nervously at Audrey, who smiled sweetly at her uncle. “Fear not, Uncle George. I won’t tell Mama or Papa. But Michael, your wound distresses Mama and we cannot allow that.”

Her tone remained dulcet and nonjudgmental, but Michael cringed, glancing guiltily toward his mother. “Oh, very well,” he grumbled, “give it here. Probably smells foul and stings to boot.” He yanked the bowl out of her tiny hands and slapped the wet cloth against his left eye. “Making a mountain out of a molehill if you ask me. It’s just a stupid bruise. I hardly feel it. Now I look the fool and everyone will be laughing.”

“No one will laugh, and if they do, you have my permission to punch them. I have plenty more where this came from, after all.” She patted his cheek, her angelic face sunny. Then she turned to Hugh, her countenance and voice compassionate, “Cousin, I will arrange a place for you next to Noella in church so you can atone for your mischievousness. Try not to frustrate her beyond measure. She truly does love you deeply.”

Hugh hung his head, shame drenching him as he stole a glance Noella’s direction. She looked up as if sensing his regard. Her flinty eyes engaged his repentant ones for a moment, flickered to Audrey, and then back to Hugh. Even from across the room he could see their chocolate depths melting, the sparkle brightening their darkness to warm umber. He sighed, lost and lovesick as he had been for two years now.

“Nathaniel, Grandmama has apparently forgotten that Thomas is no longer three. Help me rescue him before he dies of embarrassment?” And then she glided away, her elfin form supported by a polished wood crutch that in no way diminished her grace. Dr. Vaughan sighed, for one unguarded moment his mien showing the rawness of his affection before settling into a mask of neutrality.

The modest chapel in the village burst at the seams with the number of Pemberley guests attending this year. The dusting of snow from five days ago was largely melted and the weather fair enough to permit most of the visitors to walk, a fact the estate’s groomsmen and coachmen were fervently thankful for. Of course the number of conveyances driving into the spacious avenue after the service were considerable, but as always the efficient Pemberley staff rose to the challenge.

Sofas, chairs, chaises, and settees were scavenged from every room to accommodate the army flooding into the mammoth ballroom. A cluster of thickly cushioned couches arranged for optimal tree viewing was reserved for the oldest guests, Lady Catherine choosing the middle armchair and imperiously draping her voluminous skirts as a queen. That she was then flanked by the loquacious Mrs. Bennet and outspoken Mrs. Gardiner—both now widows—on one side and the ornery George Darcy on the other added amusement to an already entertaining afternoon.