I couldn’t even say what I had been looking for. It was just a vague memory, something I had overheard from my father, I believed. But Viscount Elroy III had some scandal attached to him. I was sure of it. Unfortunately, that is not the sort of thing one finds written in a book of official records. If I could just find something to trigger the rest of my memory…
But an hour came and went, and all I had to show for my effort was that I now knew how many paintings by Michaelangelo the man had brought from Italy. In fact, Elroy seemed to have been obsessed with Michaelangelo. When Rogan came to run me out, I was ready to confess that it had been a wild goose chase. What did I really expect to find?
“Did you discover what you sought?” Rogan asked.
“No. But I suppose it might be worth asking if you know what came of Elroy’s collection after his death. I understand he had no son, and the estate and title passed to the crown.”
“That’s all I know.”
I sighed. “A pity. From what I can gather, he had little to pass to his daughter, and she was forced to settle on a modest country squire. What came of his fortune? I would expect all his Michaelangelos went with the estate. I should like to have seen them one day.”
“Ah, yes. You know, I believe His Majesty has a few paintings in his collection, but I have not been privileged to admire them. Oh! That does bring something to mind. There is that small Cupid sculpture here by Michaelangelo. Something of a scandal it once was, but that only adds to the value now.”
“How so?”
“Well, he faked it.”
I stopped as if stung by something. “Come again?”
Rogan laughed. “Michaelangelo faked it. He carved it so it looked just like something the old masters would have done, and then he buried it for a while to age it. Then he sold it to some high-ranking Italian Cardinal!”
“What? I never heard this.”
“Oh, yes. Quite the stir he caused. The broker was ruined in the deal, but Michaelangelo himself became recognized for his ability to copy the Classic sculptors. It made his career, no questions about it. No one cared that he had committed fraud because they loved his talent. I suppose one never knows, eh?”
I narrowed my eyes and continued walking. “No, I suppose not.”
And then I jerked to a halt.
“Something the matter, Darcy?”
I sucked in a breath. “No. I just remembered why I knew Elroy’s name.” I offered my hand. “Thank you for your help, Rogan.”
He frowned and shrugged. “Anytime, Darcy.”
Thenextday,Itook a carriage that did not bear the Darcy crest when I returned to Meryton. I could not say why I felt such reserve. Certainly, I would need to appear credible to Mr. Bennet when I arrived, but I would have little trouble proving myself. And I wanted to prove myself—to his daughter, at least. Someday. A proper introduction, with my real name, so that I might consider knowing her better, and so she might consider not wounding me when I spoke to her.
But not yet. It was the misunderstandings cultivated by my previous visit to the area, I suppose. Better to protect my name for now, in case it was necessary to redirect any more confusion.
Tempting as it was to think of dallying with that Bennet daughter, I would need to avoid her at all costs today. Not only could her first impressions of me thwart my present mission, but… well, hang it all. If I spent another unchaperoned minute in her company, I would soon find myself with a wife.
So it was that I stepped down from my carriage at the Meryton inn, satisfied with my plan and confident in its success. I would take a luncheon and refresh myself. Then I would ride out to Longbourn in style and ask to call on Mr. Bennet.
It would be afternoon, the time when many young ladies went calling or took their constitutionals. I should be able to find the man in his study and have a private conversation before any feminine influences hindered me. I caught up my walking stick, set my hat on my head, and walked to the inn's door.
“I do not believe it.”
Heat crawled over my shoulders and up the back of my neck at the sound of that familiar voice.Oh, no.I turned slowly.
Elizabeth Bennet was standing on the walk, a new-looking book tucked to her chest and her chocolate curls drifting gently across her lips in the afternoon breeze. I gulped. It was bloody unfair.
As quickly as I had nearly lost my composure, I jerked to regain it. I doffed my hat and bowed. “Good afternoon, Miss Bennet.”
She shook her head in disbelief. “I thought you left town. I had pleasant dreams last night and everything, thinking the windows and locks on my house were safe from your meddling.”
“And so they are. I am a man of my word, Miss Bennet.”
She burst into a laugh, her eyes sparking merrily. I had not known her eyes could catch the sun quite like that. I knotted my fist on my walking stick, but my fingers trembled to recall how soft her skin had felt.
