Darcyliftedtheedgeof the curtain once more to steal another glance out the window, his body tense, his thoughts racing.
Elizabeth—LadyElizabeth—stood silent behind him, a miracle in itself. Her question still hung in the air.
“Then… what do I do?”
A fair question.
One he was hardly prepared to answer.
Outside, the street was dimly lit, the glow of a nearby lantern illuminating puddles in the uneven road. A few figures lingered, dark shapes moving through the fog. He could not tell whether they were drunken revelers, pickpockets, or something worse.
The room was small, suffocating, the walls too thin, the locks too flimsy for his liking. But it would do for now. His breath fogged against the windowpane. Behind him, he heard the rustle of skirts, a huff of frustration.
“Are you always this brooding?”
“I prefer ‘thoughtful,’” he said dryly.
She huffed again. “I asked you a question. You seem so determined to control this situation—so tell me.Whatdo I do?”
He turned, leaning against the sill. His gaze met hers, and for the first time that evening, she was not glaring at him in open defiance.
She was waiting.
She was frightened.
And something in that look made his chest shatter.
He exhaled slowly. “You behave,” he said. “You do not draw attention to yourself. You speak as little as possible.”
Elizabeth’s brows lifted. “I am not a silent person.”
“So I gathered.” Darcy folded his arms. “I have done what I can to keep suspicions away, but I assure you, it would not take much for you to ruin it.”
She squared her shoulders. “I do not make a habit of ruining things.”
“The past hour would suggest otherwise.”
She glowered. “Only becauseyouare impossible.”
He pushed off the windowsill. “You are tired. You may take the bed.”
Elizabeth blinked in surprise. “Thatthing?”
“I will take the chair.”
She glanced at the chair and shivered visibly—a sentiment he shared, for it looked even more worn and rickety than the bed. Darcy was not terribly inclined to allow his clothing to touch it, but he suspected the bed was, in actuality… the worse of the two.
“You expect me to believe you would sit there all night?”
“I have endured worse.”
She pressed her lips together, hesitated, then wrinkled her nose slightly.
“Well,” she muttered, shifting her weight. “I can only imagine what that bed must be like.”
Darcy could hardly blame her disgust. He grabbed his overcoat from the chair, strode over to the bed, and threw it over the bedding. “There. Try not to expire.”
Elizabeth blinked. Then scowled.
