“I’m sorry that you have to join me for the interrogation, Elizabeth, but don’t feel like you have to as well, Jane,” Darcy said.
Jane bit her lip, so I helped give her a nudge. She hated confrontation, and an interrogation was as close to that as we could get.
“I’m sure we could all use a good cup of tea when we’re done,” I said, ignoring the fact that the Bingleys probably had staff around Netherfield who usually took care of such things.
Her eyes lit up. “Great idea. I wanted to try the maple pumpkin spice tea I saw last night. I’ll get some ready, and maybe I’ll take a walk in the garden while it steeps.”
“That sounds great.” I smiled at her. She loved the outdoors.
“I’ll escort you to the kitchen and then join the others.” Charles held out his arm for Jane, and the pair walked off.
Darcy led me into a study bathed with soft lighting and dark earthen tones. Bookcases lined three walls, and a few leather armchairs huddled around a fireplace. With a snap of his fingers, Darcy started a fire, and the cheerful crackle filled the room.
“Now what?” I glanced at a plate that held the remains of a scone and the dregs of a mug of tea.
“Now, we remove ourselves from sight so Charles and the men can do their jobs.” Darcy pushed on a bookcase, and a portion of the wall swung inward.
My mouth fell open, but I followed him inside. The passage continued behind us, but Darcy turned to face the study we’d left.
“I found this passage when we came to the house, although it’s my first time finding a use for it.” Darcypressed a lever, and the opening swung shut again, encasing us in darkness except for a few slats of light that snuck through an opening on the bookshelf. It was a peephole. I shifted to stand in front of it and peer into the room. Darcy stepped closer, looking over my shoulder.
The darkness amplified my awareness of him, making the already miniscule distance between us feel nonexistent. I was intensely aware of each of his breaths, as soft as a whisper against my ear, and the warmth emanating from him.
The door to the study opened again, and a man wearing the dark clothes that seemed to be the uniforms for Darcy’s bodyguards walked in with the fae captive. The guard pushed the fae into an armchair near a reading table, then placed a file on it.
“Why isn’t he restrained?” I whispered.
“His magic is temporarily sealed, thanks to one of the guard’s specialties,” Darcy said.
“What do you want?” the fae growled, his usual scowl in place.
The guard pulled a photo of Easton from the file and put it on the reading table. “Do you recognize this man?”
The captive’s expression tightened, and his fists balled on the table. The fire snapped loudly in the background, as if giving the answer that the man refused to say.
Darcy leaned forward and whispered in my ear, “You were right.”
My pulse quickened, and I fought the urge to lean into Darcy by focusing on the captured fae. He was connected to Easton, but why was there something like regret in his eyes?
The guard pulled out another photo, this time of Darcy. “And do you recognize him?”
The fae went still, eyes narrowed into furious slits. “Of course I do.”
Behind me, Darcy stiffened. His free hand brushed my waist as he raised it to put it on the wall in front of us, leaning over my shoulder to study the man.
This close, Darcy’s forest and cardamom scent overpowered the stale air.
“What do you want with him?” the guard asked.
Silence.
“Why were you following him today?”
More silence, although the man’s clenched jaw grew more pronounced with each question.
The guard paced the room, his gaze occasionally darting to our hidden spot. He clearly knew we were here.
After a few more fruitless questions, I whispered, “Let me try.” I turned around, forgetting how close Darcy and I stood, and my lips brushed against his scruffy cheek. I stumbled back.
