Page 72 of Honor Requires

Lucien’s gaze did not relax. “And if she is not?”

Darcy shook his head once, dismissively. “It is of no consequence.”

Lucien rose then, crossing the room with deliberate steps until he stood nearer to Darcy. “It is of every consequence,” he said. “You have built half your existence upon her memory.”

Darcy’s expression did not change, though something in his eyes shifted, darkened. “Memory is not reality,” he said. “And I have no intention of confusing the two.”

Lucien studied him for a long moment. “You do yourself a disservice,” he said at last.

Darcy did not reply. He moved instead toward a chair opposite the fire and seated himself, his posture composed, though the tension had not left him.

Lucien watched him, then, after a moment, gave a slight shake of his head and resumed his own seat. “Very well,” he said, though his tone suggested the matter was far from concluded. “If you will not pursue that line of thought, then perhaps you will enlighten me as to what else occupies your mind. For I do not believe it is only this.”

Darcy allowed a brief pause, deliberately setting aside one subject before taking up another. “We have received an invitation,” he said.

Lucien’s brows lifted. “Already? London moves with commendable speed.”

“Lady Sefton,” Darcy explained, his tone even. “She hosts a private ball in two evenings’ time.”

Lucien considered this. “Sefton,” he repeated. “I recall the name.”

“You should,” Darcy said. “We have spoken of her in our lessons. She is one of the foremost patronesses of Almack’s. Vouchers are not easily obtained, and her favor is not lightly given.”

Lucien smiled faintly. “Then we are to be gratified by our inclusion.”

“Gratification is not the object,” Darcy returned. “Access is.”

Lucien inclined his head. “And what sort of access does Lady Sefton’s ball provide?”

“Precisely the sort we require,” Darcy said. “The first circles will be present. Those who matter—and those who imagine themselves to matter—will attend. It is an opportunity to observe, to be observed, and to establish what must be established.”

Lucien leaned back, his earlier ease returning in part. “And you expect to encounter your former acquaintances.”

“I expect nothing,” Darcy said. “But it is likely.”

Lucien’s expression sharpened once more. “Your family.”

Darcy’s gaze did not waver. “If they are present, they will not know me.”

“You are very certain of that.”

“Viscount Bramley did not recognize me,” Darcy said calmly. “I have altered sufficiently. The beard alone is enough to obscure what most would recall.”

Lucien studied him. “Your cousin is not a fool.”

“No,” Darcy agreed. “But he is not looking for me.”

Lucien nodded slowly. “And Hargrave?”

Darcy’s expression cooled. “He has been invited.”

Lucien’s gaze sharpened. “You are certain?”

“I have it on good authority,” Darcy replied. “Though I cannot say with certainty that he will attend.”

“And Langford?”

“The same.”