Page 137 of Honor Requires

“I am gratified to have been of service,” he said.

Hargrave’s satisfaction deepened.

“Theships have been given their orders. They sailed this very day.”

He paused briefly, clearly anticipating the significance of his declaration.

“There were delays, to be sure. Tiresome ones. All obstacles have now been removed.”

Darcy folded one hand over the other, keeping his expression entirely composed. “A fortunate development.”

“Very much so.” He spoke like a man already counting profits not in hand. Darcy watched him with a steadiness born less of patience than necessity. There had been a time when the mere sight of Hargrave might have provoked in him an anger too visible to conceal. Now, at least outwardly, he managed ease. The years had taught him many things. Among them was the value of stillness.

“I confess,” Darcy said after a moment, “I always find it satisfying when matters settle themselves according to their proper course.”

Hargrave smiled. “As do I.”

“Especially in trade,” Darcy said, his tone thoughtful, almost conversational. “There is so much disorder in the world already. One likes to see the rightful profit of a venture come to the man who has worked hardest to secure it.”

Hargrave regarded him with a gleam of agreement. “Just so.”

Darcy allowed the faintest pause before adding, “Though I suppose there are those who would object to such success. Men with romantic notions about land and legacy, perhaps. They prefer soil untouched, iron left sleeping beneath the ground, wealth preserved in sentiment rather than employed for gain.”

It was negligible, but Darcy saw it. A tightening about Hargrave’s mouth. Not alarm. Not yet. Only discomfort, the involuntary reaction of a man pricked where he had not expected it.

“Sentiment,” Hargrave said lightly, “has ruined more fortunes than vice.”

“So I have heard.” Darcy’s gaze did not leave him. “It must be frustrating, when one sees value clearly and others do not.”

Hargrave let out a short breath that might almost have been a laugh. “You describe an old difficulty.”

“Old difficulties,” Darcy said, “are often the most instructive.”

The other man shifted in his chair, the movement subtle enough that no indifferent observer would have marked it. Darcy was not indifferent. He had learned to study men at their moments of ease and their moments of strain. Hargrave remained smooth, exhibiting confidence and satisfaction. However, a certain aspect of his character was averse to this line of discourse, though he found it difficult to object without divulging more than he intended.

“Fortunately,” Hargrave said after a beat, “the world is not governed entirely by sentiment.”

“No,” Darcy replied. “It is governed rather more often by appetite.”

Hargrave smiled again, though less fully now. “And ambition.”

“And ambition,” Darcy agreed.

A servant entered silently to stir the fire and withdrew once more, leaving behind only the faintest movement in the room’s careful stillness. Hargrave, perhaps sensing that he had obtained what he came for and that little more might profit him, rose after another few minutes of conversation that touched upon nothing of consequence. Darcy stood as well.

“You have my thanks, Count Vendicarsi,” Hargrave said. “It is no small thing to receive useful guidance at the proper moment.”

“I am glad matters are proceeding as they should.”

Hargrave inclined his head. “As am I. Perhaps in the future, your aid might be more…monetary in nature.”

Darcy inclined his head as he walked his guest to the door of the room, though not beyond it. He watched the man depart with the air of one who had been satisfied in business and expected shortly to be satisfied in every other respect. It took a considerable act of will not to let his contempt show.

Once Hargrave had gone and the door had shut behind him, the stillness of the room changed. It no longer held the compressed strain of performance, but keener and more immediate. Darcy remained where he was for an instant, one hand resting upon the back of the chair he had not resumed. Then he crossed to the mantel and looked at the clock.

Calling hours had begun. The knowledge moved through him with unexpected force.

He had meant to go to Matlock House. The intention had been with him all morning, though he had scarcely admitted how much anticipation attended it. Now that Hargrave had come and gone, now that the next step in that darker business was already in motion, the pull of another purpose asserted itself with startling clarity.