Darcy exhaled, trying to tether his thoughts. “And… this decision—”
“Is final,” the Prince interrupted, all lightness gone for a moment. “Your family was wronged. You have paid enough for your father’s misstep—or whatever it was that led to all those accusations. It is time to restore what was lost. You may inform your bride that she shall not be marrying a disgraced pauper after all.”
Darcy swallowed hard. “Your Highness… I am—”
“Yes, yes,” the Prince waved a hand. “You are honored, humbled, grateful, all the usual nonsense. There will be formalities. A signing. An announcement. Some sighing from Cabinet and the old sticklers at the College of Arms. But you may consider the matter settled.”
Darcy inclined his head. “Then I thank you. Sincerely.”
The Prince had already returned to his brandy. “Yes, yes. Do tell your good cousin to write when the next scandal brews, won’t you? I rather like his turn of phrase.”
Darcy bowed, deeper this time. “Your Highness.”
He turned on his heel and left the chamber, boots silent against the plush carpets. The corridors of Carlton House stretched before him, long and bright, but the world beyond the doors had narrowed to a single point of clarity.
He hadher. And now… he could give her everything.
Darcystoodbeforetheimposing façade of Ashwick House, its stone edifice as unyielding as the man who ruled within. The grand entrance loomed ahead, flanked by towering columns that seemed to guard the secrets held within. Drawing a quaking breath, he ascended the steps and rapped the brass knocker against the heavy door.
The butler, a man of advanced years with a demeanor to match the house’s austerity, opened the door. His eyes flicked over Darcy with a practiced neutrality.
“Mr. Darcy,” the butler intoned, his voice devoid of warmth. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”
“I seek an audience with Lady Elizabeth. I have news of significance to share with her.”
Before the butler could respond, a familiar figure emerged from the shadows of the hallway. The Marquess of Ashwick approached, his gait deliberate, eyes narrowing as they settled on Darcy.
“Mr. Darcy,” the Marquess greeted, his voice carrying the bite of restrained civility. “Your presence is... unexpected.”
Darcy inclined his head respectfully. “And unwelcome, I see, my lord. However, I have just come from Carlton House and wish to convey some good news to Lady Elizabeth.”
Ashwick’s gaze sharpened, his lips pressing into a scowl. “Good news, you say? Perhaps you might enlighten me first. It would be... prudent, would you not agree? Such transparency might persuade me to permit you intomy houseto seemy daughter.”
“With all due respect, my lord, my concern lies solely with Lady Elizabeth’s opinion. It is her I wish to inform.”
Ashwick’s eyes bored into Darcy’s, searching for any sign of weakness. Finding none, he exhaled sharply.
“Ten minutes,” the Marquess conceded, stepping aside with a reluctant gesture toward the interior. “You will find her in the drawing room.”
“Thank you, my lord,” Darcy replied, offering a curt bow before proceeding down the familiar corridor.
She was, indeed, in the drawing room, seated near the tall window, utterly still but for the charcoal moving deftly in her hand. She had not heard the door open. Afternoon light poured over her shoulder, softening the lines of her posture and catching in the snarled waves of her hair, but she remained intent, her head bent, her fingers smudged with gray. A thin square of paper was pinned at one corner, her wrist moving in quick, decisive strokes.
He paused just inside the doorway, watching her work. Her gaze flicked between the paper and something just beyond the frame of memory—no, not something.
Someone.
Him.
The likeness was unmistakable: his brow furrowed, his collar slightly askew, his eyes darker than he remembered them. She was still shaping the curve of his mouth, tracing and retracing the lines with such concentration that he could not help but smile.
She had drawn his mouth nearly half a dozen times. That fact alone pleased him in ways he could not quite name.
He took a slow step forward. She did not notice.
“Elizabeth,” he said, gently.
Her head jerked up, the charcoal slipping slightly. She blinked at him, and color bloomed in her cheeks. “Oh! You startled me.”
