Darcy’s throat was tight, but he only nodded. Because that was not a promise his uncle needed to make.
Darcy would see to it himself.
Elizabeth awoke to thesoft creak of the door opening. Sunlight streamed through the heavy curtains, casting a golden glow across the elegant chamber. For a brief, blissful moment, she did not quite remember where she was.
Then it all rushed back.
She sat up sharply, pressing a hand to her forehead as the events of the past day settled into her bones. She was at Darcy’s house. She had been taken—rescued. And now?
Mrs. Tate stood near the door, a small, approving smile on her face. “Ah, you are awake, Miss Bennet. I took the liberty of letting you sleep longer, as you were in some need of it. Mrs. Gardiner has not yet risen, either.”
Elizabeth hesitated, still feeling the lingering exhaustion in her limbs. “Thank you, Mrs. Tate.”
The housekeeper nodded, then turned toward the hallway and gestured for a lady’s maid to step inside. “This is Alice. She will assist you in dressing.”
The blue gown had been altered overnight, the seams adjusted to fit Elizabeth more comfortably. It still felt indulgent, slipping into something that was not hers, something that had once belonged to Miss Darcy. The fabric was soft beneath her fingers, the lightembroidery delicate but understated. The gown was finer than anything she had ever worn to breakfast, and the guilt of it made her cheeks hot as Alice fastened the buttons at her back and then moved on to style her hair.
But very soon, she was not thinking about the gown, or the ornate curls Alice wrought of her unruly hair. Her heart pounded with an anticipation that was both foolish and impossible to ignore.
Mr. Darcy.
Was he awake? Would he be at breakfast? She wanted—needed—to see him. To thank him properly, to speak to him before the rest of the world intervened.
Mrs. Tate, who had been studying her with a knowing glint in her eye, stepped forward and adjusted a stray curl at Elizabeth’s shoulder. “There,” she said briskly. “You look very well this morning, Miss Bennet. Breakfast is laid out downstairs, if you wish, or I can have a tray brought to you in here.”
Elizabeth did not hesitate for even an instant before nodding. “I will go down.”
She would not ask the housekeeper if Mr. Darcy was awake—she was too embarrassed to—but she could certainly take her time descending the stairs, just in case she happened to pass him. She stepped into the hallway and made her way down, only to pause as she heard the front door open. A deep voice drifted through the corridor, asking questions, giving orders. Was that…?
Elizabeth turned the corner just in time to see the Earl of Matlock handing his gloves off to a footman. His gaze flicked up at her approach, and he offered her a nod of greeting.
“Miss Bennet,” he said, stepping forward. “It is good to see you looking well. I was here last night, but I understood you were in no condition to receive visitors.”
Elizabeth forced a polite smile, though she was growing less inclined to be cordial to the man who had maneuvered her into this tangled mess. “That was considerate of you, my lord.”
The earl studied her with the sharp gaze of a man who missed little. “I had hoped to speak with you this morning.”
Oh, bother. She had been hoping foranotherconversation—one with someone tall and brooding and far more consequential to her heart. She forced her disappointment aside and nodded. “Of course, my lord.”
The earl gestured toward the hall. “I am certain there is a fine breakfast laid out, and you must be famished.”
Elizabethwashungry, but she hesitated. If Mr. Darcy was awake, he might already be in the breakfast room. Or—she glanced toward the corridor again—perhaps still in his study?
The earl’s eyes gleamed slightly, as though he had caught her looking. “My nephew will return in a couple of hours,” he said. “He is attending to important matters this morning.”
Elizabeth froze, feeling an inexplicable twist of something—something very much like crushing disappointment—settle in her stomach. She had wanted to see him before any of this, before she had to put on the armor of propriety, before the demands of politics and duty swallowed him up again.
Instead, she would be spending the morning in the company of the Earl of Matlock. The man who had got her into this mess.
With no further excuse, she allowed him to escort her into the breakfast room. The table was set with fresh bread, ham, eggs, and fruit, a spread fit for a household belonging to one of Darcy’s standing. The earl looked about, saw the room was empty before their arrival, and directed a footman to fetch news of Mr. Gardiner.
“Sir?” The footman returned quickly. “Mr. Gardiner is dressing and will be down soon.”
The earl nodded in satisfaction before turning his attention fully to Elizabeth. “Now, Miss Bennet,” he said, watching her across the table as she hesitantly took a bite of fruit. “Let us speak plainly. Who did you see yesterday?”
Elizabeth straightened slightly. “I do not know many names, my lord.”
“Then describe them.”
