Joana Starnes

All is fair in love and war - or is it? What if Mr. Darcy's rival for Elizabeth Bennet's hand and heart is not some inconsequential stranger, but his dearest, closest friend? How is he to reconcile the claims of loyalty and kinship with the urge to pursue his heart's desire? "Eyes tightly shut against the horrifying future, Darcy dug his fingers in his hair. Lost to him forever. Not merely lost, but promised to his cousin - firmly in his life, but never his! How in God's name was he to bear it and not become unhinged? How was he to have her at his table as Richard's affianced, and not betray himself? How was he to see her, time and again, and give no sign that he wanted her more than he had ever wanted any woman? How was he to keep up the pretence, day after excruciating day? There was no escape from the hell of his own making, and it burned like molten lead to know he could have spoken months before Fitzwilliam had even met her. He could have spoken last November, and by now they might have already been wed. She would have been his, not Richard's. And if his cousin should have had the horrible misfortune of falling in love with his wife, then it would have been Fitzwilliam's hell, not his. It would have been for him to be torn asunder between loyalty and a need so deep that it burned its way into his very soul."

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