Page 162 of Honor Requires

“There always will be,” Richard replied. “But they are your family. They deserve the truth.”

Darcy’s gaze lowered. “Can they be trusted to keep it?” he asked.

Richard regarded him steadily. “Do you doubt them?”

Darcy did not respond immediately. “No,” he said. “Not in their loyalty.”

“Then what troubles you?”

Darcy turned back to him. “The consequences,” he said. “The risk of scandal. The possibility that what has been concealed may still be exposed.”

Richard considered this. “There is always risk,” he said. “But there is also necessity. You cannot remain divided forever, Darcy. The man you are and the name you bear must, at some point, become one and the same.”

Darcy inclined his head. “And Georgiana?” he asked.

Richard’s expression shifted. “She has lived beyond our reach for too long,” he said. “Whatever her circumstances have been, they have not included us. That must change.”

Darcy’s thoughts moved briefly to the previous day, to her pale face in the doorway, to the shock and confusion that had marked her expression. “She has suffered,” he said.

“She has,” Richard agreed. “And she has done so without the support of her family. That alone is reason enough to bring her back within it.”

Darcy was silent.

“We are eager to know her again,” Richard enthused. “All of us. My parents, my wife—there is not one among us who would not welcome her without reservation.”

Darcy drew a slow breath. “She may not receive it easily,” he said. “There are years between us that cannot be undone.”

“No,” Richard said. “But they can be bridged.”

Darcy inclined his head, though the uncertainty remained.

Richard rose. “I will leave you to consider it,” he said. “I have no doubt you will come to the right decision.”

Darcy moved toward him. “You return home?”

Richard smiled faintly. “At last. My wife has not seen me since yesterday morning, and I suspect she will have something to say on the subject. I mean to present myself to her before she begins to form her own conclusions.”

Darcy allowed the smallest trace of amusement to touch his expression. “A wise course.”

“I think so,” Richard replied. “And after that, I intend to sleep. A luxury I recommend you attempt as well.”

Darcy inclined his head. “I shall consider it.”

Richard paused at the door, then looked back. “It is done,” he said again. “You are free to move forward now. Do not delay overlong.”

Darcy met his gaze. “I will not.”

Richard nodded once and departed.

The room seemed emptier in his absence.

Darcy remained where he was, the magnitude of the conversation settling into place alongside all that had come before it. The path ahead, once obscured by necessity and purpose, lay clearer now, though not without its own uncertainties.

At length, he turned and made his way to his chambers.

The familiarity of the space, still new but already accustomed to his presence, offered a kind of order that he found himself unexpectedly grateful for.

He removed his coat with deliberate care, setting it aside before moving toward the basin.