Page 92 of Honor Requires

“Disguise of any sort is my abhorrence,” he said, his voice low but firm. “I will not force the woman I love to live a lie.”

Lucien inclined his head. “No. I cannot imagine you would wish that.”

“To ask her to accept me under false pretenses—to bind herself to a man who does not bear his own name—would be an injustice I cannot commit.”

Lucien considered his words, then nodded. “I concede the point.”

The tension in the room eased somewhat. Lucien exhaled, his tone shifting deliberately. “Very well. We shall set aside philosophy for the present. Tell me instead—what horrors does our social calendar hold? I was not born to mingle in such exalted circles. The prospect has grown tedious.”

Darcy gave a groan, one that was almost reminiscent of his former self.

“In the best of circumstances, I dislike milling about in society. Styling myself as a count has made it infinitely worse.”

Lucien laughed. “You astonish me.”

“We are to attend a musicale hosted by Lady Sotheby,” Darcy said, his tone dry. “The haute ton will all be in attendance.”

Lucien lifted a brow. “Then we must prepare ourselves for admiration of the most tiresome kind.”

“Indeed.”

Before Darcy could say more, the door opened. Mr. Gibbs entered, his manner as composed as ever, though there was a faint suggestion of unease in his expression.

“My lord,” he said, inclining his head, “a missive has just arrived.”

Darcy accepted it, his gaze settling at once upon the seal.

His expression shifted.

He sighed, the sound unmistakably significant.

Gibbs withdrew without further word, closing the door behind him.

Lucien watched him closely. “Well?”

Darcy turned the letter over once in his hand before breaking the seal. “I expected it,” he said. “And now it has come.” He unfolded the paper and read.

Lucien waited.

At length, Darcy lowered the letter, his expression unreadable.

Lucien stepped closer. “From whom?”

Darcy’s gaze lifted.

“Carlton House.”

Lucien stilled. “That is your prince regent’s residence, is it not?”

Darcy nodded.

For a breath, neither spoke. Then Lucien said, very seriously, “Are you prepared to lie to your future king?”

Darcy looked down at the letter once more, his thoughts shifting, calculating, colliding.

What choice have I?

He exhaled slowly. “I hardly know,” he said.