Darcy turned back just in time to see Lady Elizabeth stare at him in sheer horror.
“Southwark?“ she repeated, as though she had never heard the word before.
Darcy ignored her. Instead, he opened the carriage door, placed a firm hand against her back, and—as gently as his patience allowed—guided her inside.
Then, before she could argue further, he followed her in, shut the door, and let the carriage plunge into the London night.
“Thisisentirelyunnecessary,”Elizabeth said for the third time, her arms folded tightly as the carriage rattled through the darkened streets of London.
Darcy said nothing.
The man had barely looked at her since forcing her into the carriage, his expression set in stone, his posture stiff as he watched the city blur past the filthy glass window.
Elizabeth scowled.
“I need only send word to someone,” she insisted. “Lady Charlotte would take me in—her mother is a duchess, for heaven’s sake, do you truly think—”
“No.”
Elizabeth gasped, affronted. “No?”
He dragged a hand over his face, clearly suppressing his temper. “You still do not comprehend,” he muttered. “You cannot goanywhereyou are known!”
Her lips parted in protest. “That is—”
“You were seen, Lady Elizabeth! Your life is now nearly forfeit! And for some unknown reason, the prince wishes tokeepyou alive, so the places you might have gone before are no longer options.”
“But how could anyone know who I—”
“It would be the work of a moment to identify a woman as striking as you!” he cut in, dark eyes flashing in the dim carriage. “Are you truly so naïve that you think the questions have not already been asked and answered? Everyone within five miles of London can identify the Marquess of Ashwick’s daughter!”
Elizabeth’s mouth snapped shut. Then, she blinked. “You think me striking?”
“Heaven help me.” He covered his eyes and groaned out a heavy sigh. “And now that I am stuck with you, I cannot even go back to my own flat for a change of clothing! What the devil am I to do with a spoilt, contrary, ignorant—”
“I will have you know, I speak Latin, French, German,andPortuguese. I am better with figures than most gentlemen, I can argue Plato and Socrates, I play chess and whist—”
“And you are also a liar,” Darcy growled. “Or seriously deluded about your own abilities, which is worse.”
Elizabeth curled her lip and huffed, crossing her arms and turning her gaze toward the window.
The streets had changed. They were no longer in Mayfair or St. James’s—no longer among the grand terraces and townhouses she recognized.
These streets were narrow, winding, with buildings pressed close together, their second stories jutting out over the road. The people they passed were roughly dressed, the inn signs dirtied with soot, the air heavy with the smell of stale ale, damp wood, and unwashed bodies.
Elizabeth stiffened. “Where, in the name of all that is holyarewe?”
Darcy did not answer.
A moment later, the carriage jerked to a halt. The driver twisted in his seat and called down to them. “Lodgings, sir.”
Elizabeth’s stomach sank.
Darcy opened the door, stepped down without hesitation, and held out his hand.
She did not take it.
Instead, she stared at the crooked sign swinging over the door of a dingy, low-roofed inn, its windows thick with grime, the doorway uneven.
