“Of what make?”
Elizabeth’s stomach twisted. “I… do not know.”
“Engraving? Silver accents?”
“I did not see.”
Darcy exhaled loudly, clearly irritated.
Elizabeth stiffened. “You are asking questions that require a level of knowledge I do not possess, sir.”
Darcy looked back at her sharply. “Then what, exactly,didyou see?”
“The second most powerful man in England falling to the floor, covered in his own blood.”
Darcy’s quill paused over the page. He stared at the page before him for several seconds. Then, after a moment—he nodded.
“That,” he said, voice quieter, “is useful.”
ThePrincehadgonemad. Darcy was sure of it now. But there was nothing to do but carry on with his inquisition, though his pulse was about to burn through his temples and his stomach threatened at any moment to give up its contents.
“The exact moment he fell,” Darcy said, keeping his voice level, precise. “Do you recall when the shot struck him? Was there a delay?”
Lady Elizabeth’s brow furrowed. “A delay?”
“Yes.” Darcy dipped his pen into the ink, the scratch of the quill filling the brief silence. “Did he collapse the instant the shot was fired, or was there a moment—even a breath’s hesitation—before he fell?”
She hesitated. “I—”
Darcy pressed. “Did he turn toward the shooter? Did he clutch his wound? Did he attempt to speak?”
Her lips parted, then pressed together in frustration. “He staggered,” she said, as if testing the memory against itself. “I think.”
Darcy nodded sharply.
“Which way?” he asked.
She blinked. “Which—way?”
“When he staggered,” Darcy clarified, his pen poised, “did he reel backward? Forward? To his left or right?”
Lady Elizabeth inhaled, her dark eyes shifting up and to the right… or, rather, toherleft. Darcy watched carefully—that, in itself, was a good sign. At least she seemed to be remembering something rather than inventing something.
“Backward, I believe,” she said at last.
“Youbelieve.”
Her chin lifted slightly at the coolness of his tone. “Yes.”
Darcy narrowed his eyes slightly but nodded, his mind already calculating.
The angle of the body, the reaction time—these things mattered. They could determine the position of the shooter, verify whether a single bullet had struck or if—
The Prince sighed loudly from his chair.
Darcy paused, glancing up.
“Oh, do settle all this later, will you?” The Prince waved a lazy hand, reaching for his brandy glass.
