Darcy allowed himself the faintest smile. “I have been told so.”
The prince stopped before him. “And yet it is also what makes you acceptable.”
Darcy looked up, attentive now. A surge of hope nearly incapacitated him. Would he be allowed to marry Elizabeth after all?
“A political match would provoke resistance,” the prince said. “Elizabeth would submit, perhaps, but not quietly. Andnot without consequences. You, however, represent closure. Stability. A conclusion that appears voluntary.”
Darcy said nothing. He hardly dared to breathe.
“There is a cost,” the prince added.
Darcy felt it before it was spoken.
“Elizabeth may not continue her association withher.”
The word fell heavily into the room.
Darcy’s breath stilled. “With Princess Caroline.”
“Yes.”
“That,” Darcy said carefully, “would wound her deeply.”
The prince’s expression hardened. “That is not my concern.”
“It is mine,” Darcy replied.
Silence followed. The prince’s gaze sharpened, testing the boundary.
“She regards Princess Caroline as the closest thing she has had to a mother,” Darcy continued. “To sever that bond without her consent would be cruel.”
“Cruelty,” the prince said coolly, “is often necessary.”
Darcy rose. The movement was unhurried, deliberate. He did not loom, did not threaten. He simply refused to remain seated.
“I will not agree to any condition that Elizabeth herself would not accept,” he said. “If that renders me unsuitable, then so be it.”
The prince studied him intently. “You would forgo her rather than compel her.”
“Yes.” His heart would break, but Elizabeth would understand. She would hate him for being the cause of losing her dearest aunt.
“That is a dangerous stance.” The Prince Regent glowered, his face turning redder.I am going to be executed.He dared stand his ground against the prince?
“It is a principled one.” He spoke with as much deference as he could, hoping to calm the regent’s temper.
Another silence. Darcy felt a bead of sweat on his brow as he waited patiently for the prince to speak.
At length, his host exhaled. “Two visits a year.”
Darcy blinked.
“She may seehertwice yearly,” the prince said. “Under supervision. I will not curtail their correspondence, but neither will I tolerate rebellion and insubordination.”
Darcy considered. It was a compromise. A calculated one. “Forgive me, Your Highness, but I will not agree on her behalf,” he said at last. “Elizabeth must decide whether that cost is acceptable.”
The prince’s lips curved faintly. “Of course she must.” He turned towards the door. “Summon Miss de Bourgh.”
Darcy’s heart quickened.
