Richard grunted. “Could have fooled me.”
Darcy shot him a sharp glare, but Richard merely grinned. “Oh, very well. I will not needle you before you go off to do your duty.” He shifted slightly. “As for myself, I told my father he can do without me at Gardiner’s warehouse this morning.”
Darcy raised a brow. “He did not take kindly to that, I imagine.”
“Not at first, no,” Richard admitted. “But I made a promise, and I intend to keep it.”
Darcy frowned. “A promise?”
Richard clasped his hands behind his back. “Yes. To you.”
Darcy narrowed his eyes.
Richard sighed. “Look, I know you, Darcy. You will not be able to focus on anything if you are worrying over two people at once.”
Darcy’s stomach clenched. He did not have to ask who the two people were.
“So, I will be the dutiful cousin and hie me off to Ramsgate. I shall look in on Georgiana, ensure she is well, and write to you the moment I have anything to report.”
Darcy shook his head. “I spoke heedlessly. Georgiana is well looked after. Such a visit is unnecessary.”
Richard gave him a flat stare. “Is it?”
Darcy only fidgeted with the handle of his walking stick.
Richard smirked. “Did not think so.”
Darcy inhaled slowly. “Very well.” He adjusted his coat, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “You will—”
“I will see that she is comfortable,” Richard finished for him. “I will determine if she is well and behaving sensibly. And I will inform you of anything amiss. Does that satisfy your list of unspoken concerns?”
“It will do.”
Richard grinned. “Then I shall take my leave shortly. But you, cousin—” he stepped aside, gesturing toward the waiting carriage—”have an election to win.”
Darcy gave him a look of feigned irritation before sighing. He stepped toward the door, pausing only once, for the barest fraction of a second, before moving on.
Richard’s voice followed him as he stepped outside. “Oh, and Darcy?”
Darcy stopped just short of the carriage and turned back.
Richard’s smile was infuriatingly knowing. “Try not to miss her too much.”
Darcy turned on his heel without a word.
As he climbed into the carriage, he ignored the way his chest ached slightly at the thought of Elizabeth still asleep upstairs—safe in his home, if only for a little while longer.
The low hum ofconversation, the clatter of porcelain cups against saucers, and the occasional murmur of political speculation wove together into the lively atmosphere of Jonathan’s Coffee House. The air was thick with the scent of roasted beans, tobacco, and damp wool from the coats of men gathered in close quarters.
Darcy stepped inside, his presence immediately noted by several men who turned to greet him with nods of acknowledgment or assessing glances. His expression remained neutral, composed, as he removed his hat and gloves, handing them off to a waiting attendant.
Lord Matlock had been correct—this was the place to be seen, to be heard, to solidify one’s standing in the political sphere. And yet, Darcy loathed every moment of it.
At a large, round table near the center of the establishment sat a collection of men of influence, many of whom Darcy had met before. And, of course, several of themwere from Derbyshire. Among them were Harcourt, Linton, and Beaumont, whom he had spoken with at various gatherings throughout the season. Sir Edmund Gresham, a middle-aged gentleman with the first hints of silver at his temples and an even, patient gaze, sat with quiet authority. He had been a preferred candidate among several of the men before the election was called, but he had never put his name forward.
“Darcy,” Sir Edmund greeted, rising briefly from his seat as Darcy approached. “We heard you might be expected here this morning, but we were beginning to wonder if you had been waylaid.”
“I assure you, sir, I am not easily waylaid,” Darcy replied, taking the empty chair between Sir Edmund and Harcourt.
