Darcy blinked.Settle it later?The Prime Minister had been murdered, and he had been summoned here for answers. The very idea of—
Steady, Darcy, his own thoughts interrupted him. He could hardly afford to make a hash of this.
Very politely, he asked, “How does Your Highness desire for me to carry on?”
The Prince sighed again, as if Darcy were a particularly slow pupil. “Well, obviously, the lady cannot go home,” he said, as if this were the most self-evident thing in the world. “We must detain her.”
Darcy’s head snapped toward Lady Elizabeth—
And immediately regretted it.
She had gone pale as bone, her pupils wide and dark, the whites of her eyes stark against them. Her breath had quickened, the rise and fall of her bodice subtly unsteady.
Darcy swallowed.
Turning back deliberately, he said, “I hardly think it necessary to detain the lady like a common thief. She has done nothing to merit such treatment.”
The Prince shook his head, tutting. “Darcy, Darcy—you quite do not comprehend the matter.”
“And how, Your Highness, ought I to comprehend it?”
The Prince leaned forward, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. “She cannot return home because she was seen.” His voice was light, careless, as though discussing a matter of mere inconvenience. “And I do not relish the notion of losing my only witness before the true murderer has been caught.”
He took a sip, as if that settled things. Then, with a lazy flick of his fingers, he added, “Besides, I imagine the Marquess would be dismayed to be deprived of his daughter.”
Darcy’s stomach tightened. Something in the air shifted, and he glanced at Lady Elizabeth again—
And nearly had to dash his eyes down before his own reaction gave him away.
The color had returned to her face—but not in relief. Her breath had quickened for an entirely different reason. Her fingers knotted at her sides, knuckles white, her gaze darting not to the Prince but wildly around the room, as though she were seeking an exit.
She was furious. Barely restraining herself.
In seconds, she was like to do something rather… irreverent, and then all would be lost.
Darcy turned sharply back to the Prince. Between clenched teeth, he asked, “What, precisely, does Your Highness mean to do with her?”
The Prince frowned. “Dowith her?”
Darcy’s jaw locked. “It is a matter of some pertinence.”
The Prince sighed as if the matter were tedious and gestured vaguely. “Youwill take her, of course.”
A beat of silence.
Darcy’s jaw dropped. For a long, heavy second, he could only stare.
Then—he felt it.
A heat on his cheek. Not a flush, but the distinct weight of someone’s eyes on him.
Lady Elizabeth was staring at him.
Slowly, very slowly, he turned his head.
Her lips had parted, her chest rising and falling rapidly. She looked betrayed.
Darcy quickly turned back to the Prince.
