“Your Highness was quite firm. The lady was to be kept safe. She is safe.”
The Prince studied him for a long moment. Then—he chuckled.
“Oh, you are good, Darcy.” He sat back again, shaking his head in amusement. “Very well. Keep your secrets. I trust she remains… undamaged?”
Darcy stiffened.
The Prince laughed outright. “Of course, of course,” he said, waving a hand. “A gentleman of unimpeachable integrity. A pity. A lesser man would have made better use of the situation.”
Darcy’s grip tightened behind his back.
The Prince took another slow sip of his brandy, still smiling. “I will allow you a few more days,” he said, all magnanimity. “But if you fail me, Darcy, I may grow impatient. And when I grow impatient…” His smile did not reach his eyes. “Well. Let us hope you do not test my good nature.”
Darcy bowed, forcing the tension in his shoulders to remain unseen.
“Your Highness.”
He turned and strode from the room without haste, without showing his hand.
It was only when he reached the cool night air outside Carlton House that he let out a slow breath, hoping his pounding heart did not echo through the very halls he had just left.
He needed to move faster.
Chapter Fourteen
May 22, 1812
Darcyhadnotbeenhome.
Not to his flat, not to change his clothes, not even to rest.
The dim morning light filtered through the high windows of the Home Office as he sat at his desk, sleeves pushed to his elbows, fingers smudged with ink. A half-eaten biscuit sat forgotten near his elbow. His coat, discarded hours ago, hung over the back of his chair, and his waistcoat had long since been unbuttoned in silent surrender.
He had come straight here after Carlton House, bypassing sleep in favor of burying himself in ledgers, in reports, in anything that might lead to an answer.
And yet—
Nothing.
He dragged a hand through his hair, staring blearily at the open ledger before him. The pages blurred together. Numbers, names, transactions. A maze of financial records designed to conceal rather than reveal.
Whoever had orchestrated this had been careful. Too careful.
A chair scraped against the wooden floor nearby. “You look as if you were dragged backward through a hedge, Darcy.”
He did not look up. “Insightful, Hughes.”
William Hughes had been a colleague of his at the Home Office for several years. Sharp-minded, competent, and, unfortunately, too observant for Darcy’s liking.
Hughes leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “Are we to assume you’ve been poring over these records all night?”
Darcy did not answer.
A silence. Then, the rustling of paper as Hughes picked up one of the ledgers Darcy had abandoned. “I don’t suppose you’d like to tell me why you’ve suddenly taken an interest in… parliamentary stipends?”
Darcy’s jaw clenched. Of course, Hughes would notice. He had hoped to work in relative peace, but that was a vain wish in an office where curiosity was currency.
He chose his words carefully. “Just reviewing something for His Highness.”
