Page 24 of A Question of Character

“There was.”

“But your aunt had not sent you in search of him.”

“No.”

Elizabeth watched the musicians arranging fresh music upon the stands before speaking again.

“You are avoiding the question.”

“I am.”

“And you are perfectly aware of it.”

“Yes.”

She glanced toward him, unable to suppress her smile.

“Then I shall ask it plainly. Why did you interrupt us?”

Darcy rested one hand upon the back of an empty chair, his attention following the bustle near the pianoforte for a few moments before answering.

“I have grown selfish of your conversation.”

The admission was spoken without flourish. If anything, he sounded faintly dissatisfied with himself.

“My conversation?”

“Yes.”

“I cannot imagine it so rare a commodity.”

“It is not.”

“Then why guard it so carefully?”

His fingers traced the carved edge of the chair.

“I discover I have little inclination to surrender it to gentlemen whose conversation I esteem considerably less.”

Elizabeth considered him in silence.

“You dislike Lord Hensley?”

“I scarcely know him.”

“Then perhaps he is a remarkably profound man beneath his admiration of sopranos.”

“That possibility exists.”

“But?”

Darcy looked directly at her.

“I do not believe it likely.”

The corners of her mouth betrayed her.

“You are becoming wonderfully candid, sir.”