Page 113 of Honor Requires

It was, he knew, a dangerous inclination. He did not resist it.

On this particular morning, the air was cool and bright, the light filtering through the branches in pale, shifting patterns upon the path. Darcy had been walking some time before he saw her, his pace unhurried, his hands clasped behind his back in a posture that had become habitual to him.

She stood a short distance ahead, Bruno at her side, the footman positioned discreetly behind. She was not walking, but still—her attention appeared unfocused, not fixed upon anything in particular. There was a thoughtfulness in her posture, an absorption that spoke of inward reflection rather than outward observation.

Darcy slowed. He considered turning away. You have no need of this. The thought was perfectly rational and entirely correct. He dismissed it anyway.

“Miss Bennet.”

She turned. There was no startlement now, no visible shock as there had been in those first encounters. She paused for only an instant before her customary composure returned.

“Count Vendicarsi,” she said. There was a strange tone to her words, as if she was speaking sarcastically or sardonically.

He inclined his head. “May I join you?”

There was the slightest pause. “Yes.”

They began to walk. For a time, they said nothing. The silence between them was not uncomfortable, but it was not empty either. It carried with it all that had passed—and all that had not.

Bruno trotted ahead, pausing now and then to investigate some new scent, while the footman maintained his distance with practiced discretion.

At length, Elizabeth spoke. “You are persistent in your habits, sir.”

Darcy allowed the faintest hint of a smile. “Am I?”

“I begin to think so,” she said lightly. “I find you here with remarkable frequency.”

“As do I you.”

She chuckled. “That is because I have made no effort to conceal my routine.”

“Nor have I.”

Elizabeth glanced at him. “No?”

“No,” Darcy said. “I prefer clarity where it may be had.”

She studied him, as though weighing the remark, then looked ahead once more.

“Clarity,” she repeated. “It is a rare commodity.”

“It is,” he agreed.

“Even so,” she pressed, “you seem to suggest it is within our reach.”

Darcy considered her. “In some matters, it is.”

“And in others?”

He shrugged. “In others, it must be pursued.”

Elizabeth’s gaze shifted back to him, more intent now.

“At what cost?”

Darcy did not immediately answer. They walked several paces in silence.

“At whatever cost is required.”