Page 81 of Honor Requires

Lucien was silent before replying. “She is not married.”

Darcy’s jaw tightened. “I know.”

“And she is near.”

Darcy closed his eyes briefly. “Lucien.”

Lucien held up a hand. “Very well. I will say no more.”

They arrived at Ashcombe House in silence.

Inside, the household moved with efficiency, candles lit, doors opened and closed with practiced discretion.

Darcy removed his gloves slowly, his thoughts still in disarray.

Lucien stepped nearer and clapped him lightly on the shoulder. “Perhaps,” he said, his tone gentler now, “fate is not so unkind as we once believed.”

Darcy did not answer. He needed the night, needed the time to think. Time to understand what this new turn of circumstance demanded of him—and what, if anything, he dared to hope.

Chapter Sixteen

Morning at Matlock House unfolded with its usual order, though the household bore the subtle signs of recent excitement. Trunks had arrived late the previous evening, servants had moved briskly through the halls long after midnight, and now the presence of Lord and Lady Matlock lent the house a renewed sense of consequence.

Elizabeth entered the breakfast room with careful steps, her expression calm though touched with fatigue. The night had been a restless one. Little Viola had taken ill—nothing severe, the physician had assured them, but enough to keep the nursery wakeful and anxious. Elizabeth had sat with Jane for several hours before sending her exhausted sister to bed. Then she spent the night soothing, pacing, offering what comfort she could until the child at last settled.

She paused just inside the doorway.

Jane sat at the table, her countenance much recovered despite the lateness of the previous evening, while Lady Matlock, newly arrived, presided with gentle authority. Lord Matlock occupied his usual place, already engaged with his coffee, his expression one of calm interest.

“My dear Lizzy,” Jane said at once, looking up with warmth. “You look tired. You should have rested longer.”

Elizabeth smiled faintly as she took her seat. “Viola required much of my attention,” she said. “It was late before she slept. Though I am glad one of us managed a good night’s sleep.”

Lady Matlock regarded her with approval. “You are a devoted sister, Miss Bennet. Such attentions are not lightly given.”

“I am very happy to give them,” Elizabeth replied, reaching for her tea.

Jane leaned forward, her eyes bright with lingering excitement. “Oh, Lizzy—you must hear everything. The ball was delightful—more than delightful, in fact. I scarcely know where to begin.”

Elizabeth lifted her cup, her attention only partially engaged. “Perhaps at the beginning,” she said lightly.

Jane laughed. “Very well. The rooms were quite full, and the company most distinguished. There were several new faces, but none so remarkable as—”

“The Count,” Lord Matlock supplied, setting aside his cup.

“Yes,” Jane said, smiling. “The Count of Vendicarsi—and his brother.”

Lady Matlock inclined her head. “I heard a great deal about them last evening. It seems they have made quite an impression.”

“They have,” Jane agreed warmly. “They are…quite unlike anyone I have ever met.”

Elizabeth sipped her tea, listening with half an ear as Jane kept speaking.

“The count is reserved—very much so—but not in an unkind way. There is a steadiness about him, an authority. One feels at once that he is a man accustomed to command, though he does not exert it unnecessarily.”

Elizabeth’s gaze lowered briefly to her cup.

“And his brother,” Jane went on, “is more openly engaging. Very lively in conversation—he reminds me a little of Colonel Fitzwilliam in that regard—just as my husband described.”