It was only a simple act of compassion. That’s all—it was never meant to be….this.
Her actions the night of the fire were nothing more than acting on an impulse in the chaos of the moment. She had done what anyone with a heart would have done.
And yet, because of that moment—because of that mercy—everything had changed.
A baby with royal blood—albeit distant—had been saved.
Then Darcy had come across her in Hyde Park, assisting her in her altercation with the soldier…only to show up again in Meryton several months later.
And he just happened to be the cousin of the only man in the kingdom who knew who Benjamin was.
It was all too incredible to believe.
She looked over at Darcy, who was watching his cousin with concern, the lines of worry and resolve carved deep into his features.
How strange it was to imagine that just a short time ago, she had believed him to be proud and cold. Yet here was evidence that still waters truly did run deep. She had believed him when he swore that he had no idea who Benjamin was when he had come to Meryton.
His attempts to get to know her, the friendship they had developed. It was because hewantedto, not because he was on assignment from his cousin.
And the colonel—the Raven. His story should have terrified her—should have sent her running for the nursery and bolting the doors.
But instead, she found herself breathless with awe.
All of it—every step—had led to this moment.
It was all too precise, too intricate in its coincidence.
Which means it is not a coincidence. It is Providence.
Somehow, for some reason, she had been placed at the center of this storm—not by calculation or design, but by something greater than any of them could understand.
Her skin prickled. The fear was still there—yes, how could it not be? There was a French assassin hunting her—or rather, the child she protected. There was a war not of soldiers but of shadows. And she, Elizabeth Bennet of Longbourn, was now part of it.
She did not know why she had been chosen. She was not the strongest or the cleverest or the most important. She was merely a young woman who had done what she thought was right.
But if that choice had brought her here, to this moment—if she had been placed in the path of a newborn child who now carried the hopes of a lineage long thought lost—then she would not falter.
The fear gave way for something else: resolve.
Shewouldsee it through.
Shewoulddo her part.
For Benjamin.
For her country.
For herself. For Darcy.
Slowly, she lifted her chin and looked between the two men. Her words, when they came, were quiet but sure.
“We cannot let him win.”
∞∞∞
Darcy stared at her, stunned.
She was pale—he could see the strain on her face, the tight line of her jaw, the faint tremble of her fingers where they rested against the arm of the chair. And yet her eyes burned like twin embers, fierce and determined.
