“Thank you for your concern,” Darcy replied dryly, setting his glass down on the desk with more force than necessary. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
Richard dropped into the chair opposite him, resting one ankle over his knee. “Georgiana sent me.”
That caught Darcy’s attention. His gaze snapped to his cousin, his frown deepening. “Georgiana?”
Richard nodded, his expression turning serious. “She’s worried about you. She said you’ve been… unwell these last two weeks. Distracted. More irritable than usual—which, frankly, is saying something.”
Darcy exhaled sharply, leaning back in his chair. “Georgiana should mind her own concerns.”
“She is your sister. If you’ve forgotten, let me remind you: her concerns include you. She mentioned a Miss Bennet from Hertfordshire.”
Darcy’s jaw tightened, and he looked away, the flicker of the firelight dancing in his eyes. “She should not have mentioned that.”
“Ah, but she did,” Richard said, leaning forward slightly. “And now I’m here, because whatever is going on, it’s clearly eating you alive. So, talk. Who is this Miss Bennet, and why does she have you looking like you’ve just lost a battle?”
Darcy was silent for a long moment, the tension in the room thick enough to cut. Finally, he sighed, his shoulders sagging slightly. “Elizabeth Bennet,” he said quietly, the name like a confession. “She is… unlike anyone I have ever met.”
Richard’s brow lifted. “Go on.”
Darcy hesitated, then rose abruptly, moving to the window. He stared out into the dark street below, his hands clasped behind his back. “She is clever, sharp-witted, independent… and utterlyinfuriating. For weeks, she teased me, challenged me—drew me into conversations I never expected to enjoy. And somewhere along the way… I fell for her.”
Richard studied him, his expression unreadable. “And what happened?”
Darcy turned back to him, his face shadowed with bitterness. “I discovered that she had made a wager with her friend—a game to see if she could gain my favor. A farce.”
Richard frowned, leaning back in his chair. “A wager? That doesn’t sound like the kind of woman you’d fall for.”
“I thought the same,” Darcy admitted, his voice quieter now. “But it was true. Collins—her cousin—made it painfully clear. And yet…”
“And yet?” Richard prompted.
Darcy’s gaze dropped to the floor, his jaw tightening. “There were moments, Richard. Moments when she was so tender, so unguarded, that I cannot believe it was all false. I cannot reconcile the woman I knew with the idea of her playing such a cruel game.”
Richard tapped his fingers against the arm of his chair thoughtfully. “And have you considered the possibility that there’s more to the story?”
Darcy’s head snapped up, his expression sharp. “What do you mean?”
“I mean,” Richard said, “that people aren’t always what they seem at first glance. You of all people should know that. Maybe this wager wasn’t what you think it was. Or maybe she started with one intention and ended with another. Either way, you’ll never know unless you ask her.”
Darcy shook his head, turning back to the window, his silhouette framed by the faint glow of the streetlamps outside. “I cannot go back. Not after everything that was said. She despises me now.”
Richard snorted, leaning back in his chair with an incredulous smile. “I doubt that. You’re many things, Darcy, but despised? No. At least, not by her.”
Darcy let out a humorless laugh, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. “You did not hear her, Richard. You did not see the fire in her eyes when she confronted me. She called me out for my supposed civility, for my falsehoods, and—” He cut himself off, his voice breaking slightly.
Richard frowned, tilting his head. “She called you out for… civility? What does that even mean?”
Darcy’s shoulders stiffened, and for a moment, he said nothing. Then, with aching reluctance, he turned back to his cousin, his expression shadowed with self-reproach. “Because I was not entirely innocent, either.”
Richard raised an eyebrow, sitting up straighter. “Go on.”
Darcy’s gaze dropped to the floor, his voice low and tight. “It was Bingley. He made a wager—harmless, he said. A jest. He believed I was incapable of civility, especially toward the Bennet family, given my… initial impressions.”
“Initial impressions,” Richard repeated, a grin tugging at his lips. “Let me guess. She did something irreverent and you insulted her? I only guess because it would not be the first time—”
Darcy shot him a sharp look, but Richard only laughed. “Carry on, cousin. This is getting good.”
“Bingley challenged me to prove him wrong. To demonstrate that I could be polite without creating unnecessary entanglements. And I—” He paused, exhaling heavily. “I accepted. It seemed harmless at the time, nothing more than a matter of pride.”
