The earl sighed, casting an apologetic glance at Darcy. “It seems our discussion must be postponed. For the moment.”
Darcy’s gaze lingered on the young woman as his uncle stepped into the hall, his curiosity prickling as he watched the Earl speak briefly with the butler. The young woman did not move, her gaze fixed on some distant point as though she refused to acknowledge either man.
Chapter Four
Elizabeth’s heart pounded asthe butler led her down a long corridor, his footsteps echoing against the polished floors. She had insisted—repeatedly—that this was all a misunderstanding, but her words had been met with only the faintest of acknowledgments. The man who had caught her and dragged her before the earl's butler, the British dignitary whose name she had not quite caught in the chaos, trailed behind her, his presence dark and accusing. Every glance he had given her since they left the ballroom seemed to say he was already convinced of her guilt.
But… what guilt? What did he even think she had done?
The butler paused outside the heavy oak door, rapping twice before stepping back. Elizabeth stood frozen, her nerves wound tight, while muffled voices drifted through the door. Though she could not make out the words, the tone inside was brisk and impatient. A low baritone voice—deep and measured—cut through the hum, followed by a sharper response.
“You stay where you are,” the earl barked. “I have not done with you yet.”
The butler had the temerity to knock again, and Elizabeth winced. “Bloody impatient. Hang it all, I am hosting a party, not holding court!” came the gruff voice of the earl. Elizabeth jumped slightly at the loud complaint, but the butler remained composed, his hands folded behind his back as he waited. He glanced at her again, then back at the door as if weighing whether to persist.
Finally, the earl’s voice rang out again, louder this time. “Come in, then!”
The butler opened the door, standing aside to gesture Elizabeth forward. She barely had time to gather her composure before stepping into the room, her pulse hammering in her ears.
The earl, now standing behind his desk, looked her over with a sharp, measuring gaze. A tall man stood nearby, his shoulders squared and his posture rigid, though his dark eyes flicked briefly toward her. His expression was strikingly stern, his handsome featuresedged with an uncompromising severity that made him look entirely unapproachable. He assessed her quickly—one glance was all he seemed to need—before returning his attention to the earl, his hands clasped behind his back in an air of controlled patience.
This must be the Mr. Darcy her aunt told her about. The earl’s surprise when his name was mentioned, the hurried instruction to bring him to the study—it all clicked into place. Thishadto be the man.
The butler cleared his throat. “My lord, I apologize for the interruption, but there has been… an incident.”
The earl’s eyes narrowed. “What sort of incident?”
The butler hesitated, his gaze darting briefly to Elizabeth before returning to his master. “One that requires your immediate attention.”
The earl sighed heavily, casting an apologetic glance at his guest. “It seems our discussion must be postponed. For the moment.”
Mr. Darcy hesitated for the briefest of moments before stepping back, his gaze flicking to Elizabeth once more. His dark eyes lingered on her, curious but distant, as though trying to determine who she was and what manner of trouble had brought her here. The weight of his look made Elizabeth’s pulse quicken, but he said nothing further.
Finally, he inclined his head toward the earl and moved toward the door, brushing past her as he exited the room. Elizabeth caught the faint scent of cedar and leather as he passed, a warm but distant impression of him lingering even after the door clicked shut behind him. For a moment, she found herself frozen, her breath unsteady, before the earl’s clipped voice drew her back to the present.
“Miss—what did you say your name was again?” he asked impatiently, his attention now firmly on her.
Elizabeth swallowed hard and dropped into a curtsy, her nerves making the motion jerky. “Miss Bennet, my lord. Elizabeth Bennet”
“Miss Bennet,” the earl repeated, his expression darkening slightly as his sharp eyes took her in. “Ah, yes. Mr. Gardiner’s niece. Well, come in, then. Quickly now. I have guests waiting.”
The dignitary who had fairly herded her in here now stepped forward, his brow furrowed in a way that made Elizabeth feel like an insect pinned beneath a magnifying glass. He was a broad-shouldered man with a thick mustache and a deep frown, and though he had introduced himself earlier, the only thing she remembered was his surname—Sir Thomas Greaves.
“Lord Matlock,” Greaves began, his tone heavy with displeasure, “this young woman has been under close observation for the past half hour. First seen mingling with the French minister and his entourage, then intercepting a note that I found to contain highly sensitive information.”
The earl’s gaze did not waver as he turned his attention to Elizabeth. “Is this true, Miss Bennet?”
Elizabeth’s throat went dry. “No! Or—I mean—yes, but not in the way he is suggesting!” She looked desperately at Greaves. “I was not intercepting anything. The note fell, and I picked it up—”
“After lingering among the French delegation,” Greaves interjected.
“I did not realize who they were!” Elizabeth said quickly, her voice rising in pitch. “I became caught up in the crowd. When I did realize, I tried to leave at once, but Monsieur Lapointe addressed me, and it would have been rude to—”
“You spoke to Lapointe?” Greaves’ voice sharpened. “And what did he say to you?”
Elizabeth hesitated. “He said something in French, but I—I could not understand him.”
“You could not understand him,” Greaves repeated, his tone skeptical. “And yet you lingered.”
