“I will allow this kind little lie you are telling me, for I have been afraid for you all day and I can wait no longer.” She cast a sly glance at the door. It was ajar, but only a little. “Before we begin unravelling this mess, I believe I would like you to kiss me.”
The tension in his posture relaxed at her request, and Elizabeth marvelled to see it. His gaze was inexpressibly tender as he took her face in his large, gentle hands and leaned down. His lips met hers and lingered there as a wave of well-being crashed over her. When he broke the kiss at last, she slid her hands around him and held her cheek to his chest. She had not done so to assure herself that his heart still beat, but its steady rhythm was nonetheless reassuring. He traced light circles on her back with his palm, and the last of the overwhelming fear that had plagued her all day ebbed away.
Eventually, she released him and stepped back. “I beg your pardon,” she said with a little sniff. “I have mussed your waistcoat.”
He chuckled, a low rumbling sound that she adored. “It cannot be worse than what I have done to it,” he assured her. “I am so pleased you have come. We are badly in need of your insight, but had thought to begin again tomorrow, when we are more rested.”
“I think that is a fine idea,” Elizabeth told him.
“Are you hungry?” he asked. “I do not know what is available, as we showed up rather unexpectedly this morning, but I am sure Mrs. Yardley will manage something.”
“That would be wonderful,” she said. “Seeing you was my first objective, but now that I have satisfied it, I do find myself rather hungry.”
He smiled, pulling her to him and placing a kiss on her forehead.
“Darcy, Elizabeth,” a voice called from the doorway, “join us, will you not?”
It was Elizabeth’s turn to chuckle. It had not been a request. “Yes, Papa,” she called, and led Mr. Darcy out.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Darcywasawakenedwhensomeone shook him by the shoulder. “What?” he barked, sitting up abruptly and reaching for a weapon that was not there.
“Get up, Darcy,” Fitzwilliam’s voice ordered. “Hardiman found Evans.”
Darcy grumbled inarticulately as he scrubbed his hands over his face. “Cannot it wait until morning?”
Fitzwilliam’s face was almost ghostly in the light of a single candle. “Hardiman is on his way to Newgate with the man. This is your chance to talk to him if you want to avoid entering that hole.”
He was weary enough that he might have agreed to do just that, but Fitzwilliam kicked the bed with the toe of his boot. “He will not last long, Darcy. They will sentence and hang him in short order. He has been a very busy man.”
He cursed and swung his legs over the side of his bed. “Why could Hardiman not arrest him during the day?”
Fitzwilliam rolled his eyes. “Because bad people do their best work at night.”
Darcy blinked up at him. “Is that why you are you awake?”
The bed shook with three sharp kicks. “Get up.”
He dragged himself out of bed and tossed on his clothes. He tied a very simple knot in his cravat and stumbled out to meet Fitzwilliam, who was waiting impatiently at the foot of the stairs.
“Hardiman has him in the study,” Fitzwilliam grumbled. “That is, if they have not yet expired from old age.”
Darcy’s mind was clearing, but he was still very tired. He did not respond to Fitzwilliam’s jibe, merely walked past him to the room near the front of the house.
When he entered, Hardiman was standing before a hard wooden chair, facing the man who was currently slumped in it. Behind them were Josiah and Isaac Anders.
He joined Hardiman to have a look at the prisoner. The man stared back at him boldly. A vague memory flickered in his mind.
“Good evening, Mr. Darcy,” Hardiman said, drawing his attention away.
“Good morning, more like,” said Isaac. “Is there any coffee, sir?”
“I would ask, but I did not see my butler,” Darcy said. “Come to think of it, how did you get in?”
“I let them in,” Fitzwilliam said gruffly. “The entire French army could have been marching through here and you would never have heard it.”
Darcy was rather enjoying himself. Perhaps it was the lack of sleep that made him giddy. “I am not supposed to hear it. Lewis is supposed to hear it.”