“No.”
He laughed and leaned to the side to pluck a wineglass from the tray of a passing waiter. “Very well, I shall come out with it. A thousand pounds, Darcy. Enough to keep me quiet about your darling sister and your…” He took a drink from his glass. “… Shall we say ‘oddities.’”
I studied him, then forced a fake smile. “Suppose I refuse to pay you off for… what, I do not know. It is not as if giving you money has ever proved a sound investment before. Why should I even entertain your threats?”
Wickham shook his head. “You do not believe I would bother confronting you if I only held one trump card, do you?” He leaned in, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “I noticed something curious a few days ago—a lady’s tracks in the snow, leading into the woods from Longbourn. And not just a simple woodland wandering was it—no, no, those tracks continued on a straight path for better than a mile to an abandoned cottage in the woods. Someone was on a mission. I’d hate for anyone to misunderstand what those tracks might mean. Especially when another set of tracks in your boot size led back to Netherfield.”
My heart hammered, but I kept my expression neutral. This was exactly the kind of trap Wickham excelled at—dangled just close enough to ensnare me, but not enough for me to bite back.
“And?” I said coolly, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a reaction.
Wickham’s eyes gleamed with malicious delight. “And, Darcy, people notice things. They talk. A gentleman like you wouldn’t want his name linked with scandal, would he? Especially not a scandal involving a lady’s honor. That would be... most unfortunate. Oh, you are welcome to your dalliances, I care not. But I daresay you have your sights set somewhere higher for a wife than a country lass from Hertfordshire.” He leaned back and tilted his head. “Unless, of course, you are fond of the chit. Is that it, Darcy?”
Before I could respond—likely with something less than polite—something odd caught my eye. Wickham’s cravat. It twitched.
Just slightly. At first, I thought it was a trick of the light, but then, unmistakably, it shifted again, loosening ever so slightly as if someone was untying it with invisible hands.
I blinked, and sure enough, there he was. Ewan. Standing just behind Wickham, his hands working deftly at the cravat, untying it with such precision that Wickham hadn’t noticed yet.
Not now, I thought, glaring at him, but Ewan only grinned.
Wickham, oblivious, continued. “Now, of course, I’m sure it’s all innocent. But you know how people love to talk. And a word from me, well... I could either quell those rumors of madness or liaisons, or I could let them spread like wildfire. All it would take is a whisper.”
The cravat loosened further, the knot now barely holding, but Wickham still hadn’t noticed. Ewan stepped back for a moment, admiring his handiwork, before reaching out again—this time, more deliberate. His fingers tugged gently at the fabric, making it slip down just enough for Wickham to feel the shift.
Wickham frowned, his hand moving to his neck, brushing at the loose ends of his cravat. “As I was saying, Darcy, it would be in your best interest to—”
And then, without warning, the cravat unraveled completely, the silk fabric slipping free and fluttering to the floor in a soft heap.
Wickham’s hand froze, his face flushed with confusion. He stared down at the cravat, utterly baffled, and I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing.
“Something the matter, Mr. Wickham?” Elizabeth’s voice cut through the room, her tone sweet and innocent as she stepped beside me, her eyes gleaming with amusement.
Wickham flushed an even deeper shade of red, scrambling to pick up the fallen cravat and fumbling to retie it. “I... it’s nothing,” he muttered, clearly flustered.
Elizabeth’s lips twitched. “Perhaps you should take more care, Mr. Wickham. It wouldn’t do to have your attire... misbehave.”
Wickham, still flustered, tugged at the cravat, his hand shaking slightly as he tried to loop it back around his neck with only one hand free. “As I was saying, Darcy,” he stammered, his composure all but shattered, “I think you understand the... delicacy of the situation.”
I raised an eyebrow, taking full advantage of Wickham’s momentary disarray. “Delicacy, Mr. Wickham? Perhaps you’re the one who should take care with such... delicate matters. You wouldn’t want to make a fool of yourself, would you?”
His eyes flashed with anger, but before he could retort, Ewan struck again. This time, Wickham’s wineglass tilted—slowly at first, then more deliberately—until the red wine sloshed over the rim, splashing across his loosely hanging cravat and his already-stained waistcoat.
Wickham let out a strangled sound, staring down at the crimson stain spreading across his chest. His hands flailed uselessly, trying to dab at the mess with his sodden cravat, but only succeeded in smearing the wine further.
Elizabeth stifled a laugh beside me, and I could feel my own lips twitching as I watched Wickham’s mounting frustration.
“Goodness, Mr. Wickham,” Elizabeth said, her voice laced with mock concern. “You do seem to be having a rather difficult evening.”
Wickham sputtered, his face now a deep, furious red. “I—I don’t know what’s happening, I—”
“I think it’s clear,” I said, my voice steady, but the amusement was impossible to hide. “You are either in your cups, or there is somethingverywrong with Lieutenant George Wickham. Perhaps you should retire for the evening before further humiliation strikes.”
Wickham glared at me, his chest heaving with rage, but before he could respond, the button at the top of his breeches gave a sudden twitch. My eyes widened as I watched in disbelief.Ewan, don’t you dare…There were ladies present!
Wickham opened his mouth to respond, but at that very moment, the final button of his breeches gave way, and the fall slipped, exposing… egad,too much, even to the tops of his garters. He fumbled, his hands flying to hold his breeches together, his face now a deep shade of crimson.
Elizabeth covered her mouth, but a gasp escaped her. I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from joining her outright. “Mr. Wickham! How dare you expose yourself in public? Turn away, Miss Elizabeth—you needn’t look on something so distressing.”
