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Colonel Forster’s skeptical expression suggested that Darcy had not sufficiently explained his reaction. “Also”—Darcy blew out a breath; he hated laying his affairs bare before strangers—“I am hoping to persuade Miss Elizabeth to become my wife.”
“You are?” The colonel’s eyebrows shot upward. “But I thought her family…”
“Yes?” Darcy watched the other man steadily, daring him to finish the sentence. Did he have the audacity to find Elizabeth unworthy? When the colonel did not continue, Darcy explained, “I traveled to Brighton for the sole purpose of protecting her from Wickham, since I knew him to be a blackguard of the first order.”
Forster stiffened. “I assure you that I would not allow any harm to come to her.”
Darcy bared his teeth, finished with any pretense of politeness. “With all due respect, sir, I am more familiar with Wickham’s machinations than you are.”
“I was tasked with her safety by her father,” the colonel growled.
“Yes, you were. And where is she now?”
Forster abruptly deflated, collapsing into the chair behind his desk. “Very well. Point taken.” He massaged his forehead with one hand. “What should our first step be?” he asked Richard. “Should we seek Harrison or Wickham first?”
Darcy slammed his fist on the desk’s mahogany surface, causing Forster to flinch. “Our first task is finding Miss Bennet. She could be in grave danger!”
Forster blinked. “Yes, yes, of course. We can search the town for her.” He stood, no doubt eager to quit Darcy’s presence.
Darcy’s shoulders relaxed fractionally. “Do you have men who may assist with the search?”
The man paused on his way to the door. “A few. But it’s a delicate situation; I can only share this information with men I can trust.”
Darcy nodded. “Then let us collect them so we may start searching.”
***
Elizabeth was certain the man she observed was Harrison. The stranger had met with Mr. Wickham near one edge of the Steyne. After a quick and animated conversation, the two men had parted, leaving in opposite directions. Hoping to discover where Harrison was staying, she had elected to follow him.
He was a small, thin man with a narrow face and nervous eyes. Wearing a brown coat and equally brown hat, he melted indistinguishably into the crowds of visitors thronging the busy streets near the green. Following him had been difficult, but Elizabeth had managed to keep pace without alerting him to her presence
He came to an intersection of several streets, teeming with carriages, horses, and people walking in every direction. With only a cursory glance around, the man dove directly into the melee. Very well. Elizabeth took a deep breath and followed.
Only to find her way blocked by a man on horseback.
Huffing with impatience, she tried to duck around the rear of the horse, but the animal moved backward to block her again. Elizabeth shot an irritated glare up at the rider, only to find she was glaring at the face of Mr. Darcy.
“That is Harrison!” she hissed at him, pointing to the man. “He is escaping!”
Mr. Darcy shook his head. “Finding Mr. Harrison is not your responsibility. It is too dangerous.”
She did not have time to argue. Growling at Darcy under her breath, she feinted left. As the horse moved to block her, she jumped to the right, skirting around the horse’s rear and plunging into the intersection. But Harrison was gone. Elizabeth turned in a circle, peering down every street, but there was no sign of a short man in a brown coat. Blast!
Before she could decide on her next move, a hand grabbed her elbow, and Mr. Darcy pulled her out of the street to relative safety under a shop’s awning; his horse was tied up nearby. She wrenched her arm from his grasp. “Do not lay hands on me, sir!”
He immediately backed away, conspicuously not touching her, but his stormy expression suggested an apology would not be forthcoming. “What were you about?” he demanded gruffly.
Elizabeth spoke through gritted teeth. “I hoped to learn where Mr. Harrison lodges so Colonel Fitzwilliam could apprehend him.”
“Colonel Forster would not want you to do something so dangerous.”
She put her hands on her hips. “It is a curious thing, but I do not recall putting myself under Colonel Forster’s command—or yours, sir!” Blood was boiling in her veins, and it was all she could do to keep her voice low. “You are in no position to make decisions for me. You are not my father. You are not even my host!”
Mr. Darcy’s mouth opened and then closed again.
If she remained, there was a grave danger Elizabeth might say something she would regret. “Good day.” Whirling around, she strode away from him as rapidly as she could manage.
“Elizabeth, wait!” She did not slow her pace, but Mr. Darcy hurried to catch up with her. “How did you know that man was Harrison?”
