And for the first time in a very long time, Darcy was looking forward to someone else’s confusion.
Chapter Eight
ThecoachinginnatMeryton was not ideal.
Darcy surveyed the bustling interior, the air thick with the scent of roasting meat, spilled ale, and the faintest trace of horse dung clinging to boots. The noise was nearly as bad—traders, farmers, and travelers alike packed the common room, their voices carrying over the clatter of tankards and heavy boots against the floorboards.
Elizabeth stood beside him, silent but watchful. For once, she was not arguing.
That, more than anything, put him on edge.
He turned sharply to the innkeeper. “A private dining room.”
The man gave a weary shake of his head. “All taken, sir. Had a large party pass through just this morning. We’re full up.”
Darcy bit back a curse. He turned to Elizabeth. “Well, that settles it. You can hardly come with me until I have… made certain arrangements. You will have to remain in the carriage.”
“I will not.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose. Of course. “This is hardly a place for a lady of your station,” he hissed.
She lifted a brow. “That is precisely the point, is it not?”
He narrowed his eyes and leaned closer, dropping his voice. “You are in danger, or have you already forgot the state of your home?”
She stiffened, but held his gaze. “I have not forgot.”
“Then you—”
“I have no intention of making trouble,” she cut in, voice deliberately even. “I will remain seated. I will eat. I will not draw attention.” Her jaw set. “I am sensible of the danger, Mr. Darcy.”
Darcy almost laughed. That was the most blatant falsehood he had heard in weeks. She had no idea what it meant to be truly sensible.
But the alternative was leaving her unsupervised in the carriage while his driver loitered about with the other grooms. Hot. Thirsty. Hungry, and, more concerningly, growing more impatient by the second.
Darcy ground his teeth and turned back to the innkeeper. “A quiet corner, then. One with some privacy.”
The innkeeper hesitated, then gestured toward the far end of the room. “We have a space near the back. Bit more removed. There’s a curtain that can be drawn if you want.”
Darcy exhaled. It would have to do.
Elizabeth gave a small, satisfied nod before moving past him, making her way toward the seat before he could change his mind.
Darcy turned to the innkeeper and placed a few coins on the counter. “See that she eats,” he said quietly. “Something warm and filling. And give her a bit of ale, too, if she will drink it.” It might make her more… amenable to his plans.
The innkeeper pocketed the money without question.
Darcy glanced toward Elizabeth, who had already settled into her corner seat. She was watching the room but making no spectacle of herself, hands folded neatly on the table, chin lifted at a practiced, indifferent angle.
She looked… composed.
For once.
It was probably an act.
She met his eye casually, as if she were only lightly scanning the room, and he made a motion with his hand. She puckered her lips and pulled the curtain closed, but she looked away as she did so, as if to make certain he knew it was nothissuggestion but her own decision that caused her to do so. Well, whatever it took.
Without another word, he turned toward the door.
