“Some thanks I get for saving your sorry hide fromthose milling coves,” Richard grumbled as he shoved him away.
“You nearly got us killed, and you expect me to be grateful?”
Richard patted the hilt of his sword. “I have yet to meet a man daring enough to put Constance to the test.”
“Only children name their toys.”
“Connie is not a plaything. Take it back.”
Darcy would do no such thing.
“She is a genuine scimitar—reliably intimidating and always at my side—a gift to me by a man who made his fortune on the open seas.”
Darcy looked at him askance. “A pirate?”
“His morals and methods are questionable, but there is no doubting the quality of this blade.” Richard puffed his chest, self-righteous in his pride.
“Did he give you a parrot, too?”
“And risk it soiling my uniform? My batman is a good man who deserves better than the job of scraping guano off my coats.” He cast a side look at Darcy and shook his head. “It is a wonder your valet stays on with you dressing like a sailor scraped from the bottom of a ship. You smell like bilge water.”
Darcy did not doubt it, but that was beside the point. “I had the situation under control.”
“Which is why you are sporting a bloody lip and a big, purple bruise blooming around your swollen eye?—”
“A bruise I would not have without your untimely intrusion.”
“Oh yes, because you had the situation under firm regulation. It is a wonder the watchmen do not enlist the great Fitzwilliam Darcy to rehabilitate Seven Dials. You would have all of St. Giles reformed in short order!” Richard mocked, stopping to poke him in the chest. “What were you thinking, coming here? This treasure hunt has become an obsession. It needs to stop.”
Darcy’s blood boiled; his ears rang like a tea kettle. “Do you think I am unaware of the danger? That I came here on a whim?”
“It is a painting! Dabs of oil on a canvas. Nothing worth risking your life over!”
“You call an original Rembrandt a mere painting?”
“You called my scimitar a theater prop.”
“That painting,” Darcy said through clenched teeth, “is Georgiana’s inheritance. I promised it to her.”
“Her dowry is already generous—too generous. It makes her a target. First Wickham, and you know as well as I do that he will not likely be the last.”
“All the more reason to restore Georgie’s property. It has nothing to do with her dowry and will remain hers no matter whom she marries.”
“If it is justice you seek, then leave the inspector to pursue Wickham. He will catch him in Charleston.”
Richard did not understand. The painting was a masterpiece, true, but its value went far beyond that. Darcy had promised it to Georgiana on the worst dayof their lives, and nothing would prevent him from keeping his promise to her. “You would do the same if you were in my position. You would do it for Georgie.”
“I most certainly wouldnot!”
Darcy shot him a look. In a calmer tone, Richard added,“Not the way you are going about it. I have sent messages to every acquaintance I have in the fleet about Wickham’s crossing. If he escapes the notice of the investigator, he cannot escape the Royal Navy!” Richard closed his hand around the handle of his scimitar. “If only I had caught up with him…”
If only.That same wishful thought tormented Darcy. If only he had recognized the signs sooner. If only he had suspected Wickham’s motive for calling so often went beyond appeals to Darcy for money. If only he had recognized the possibility of his own sister falling under the influence of a selfish rake of no consequence, no fortune, and no recommendation other than his excessive charm. Georgiana had been raised to expect better!
He forced his shoulders to relax and his feet to continue moving toward his carriage. The past was done, and he would waste no more time dwelling on his failures when he still had a chance to undo Wickham’s handiwork. “Have you received word from the investigator?”
“It takes time to cross the Atlantic. We cannot expect a message until my man lands. He will be there, and Wickham will have the painting.”
“It washere, Rich. The painting was here.”
