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Georgiana cupped Elizabeth’s chin, commanding her attention. “We are friends. May I see what has upset you?”

Still sniffling, Elizabeth handed one paper to Georgiana, who began speaking as she read. “This looks like a marriage certificate from Gretna Green.” As the contents became clear, her voice broke. “Oh, Elizabeth, it is yours.” She squeezed Elizabeth’s hand, trying not to cry as tears filled her eyes as well. “I am so sorry.”

“But ... but you do not understand!” Elizabeth sputtered, starting to weep again. Then through copious tears, she related everything that she had just remembered. For a long time afterward, neither spoke as Georgiana held Elizabeth, rocking her gently.

Finally realising that none of this mattered—most certainly not to William, Georgiana declared, “This changes nothing! William loves you regardless of the circumstances you found yourself in before you were reunited. And if there is one thing my brother is—it is devoted to you. You do not know how often he told me that he could not live without you.” Elizabeth’s head lifted at that revelation, causing Georgiana to add confidently, “If anything, this only means that you are free to marry as soon as you wish, which will make my brother the happiest of men!”

Elizabeth tried then to smile, but it quickly faded. “I ... I do not know what to think. I am numb.”

“Well, of course you are. You have had quite a shock. You have learned that the man you thought was your husband was not, and that he obviously took advantage of other women in the same manner. Who would not be numb?”

Georgiana watched Elizabeth closely, fearing the unusual expression on her face. “Please tell my brother about this. I assure you, he will know how to handle it.”

Elizabeth’s eyes widened, though she still wore a dazed expression. “No. Please, not yet. I ... I need to think of how to ... what to say. Please promise me that you will not write to him.”

Georgiana considered the confused and evidently frightened young woman and reached out to smooth her hair. “I will let you write to him of this matter, but I expect you to inform him as soon as possible. Agreed?”

She swallowed hard and nodded. “Agreed.”

Nonetheless, deep within, Elizabeth was not convinced she would tell William. Informing him of her added shame would probably only make matters worse, as he would be more determined than ever to shield her from society’s condemnation. An honourable man could do no less.

London

Preston House

Cecile Preston walked back and forth in her sparsely furnished drawing room, considering exactly when she had lost control of her life. She had been happy as a child, but things had spiralled out of control after her father’s death when she was sixteen. Choosing a marriage of convenience, she had never been happy with Owen Preston, but with her marriage had come adequate wealth and position—something that some could only dream of having. When had that not been enough? At what point had gambling replaced the emptiness in her heart?

She stopped pacing abruptly. Now my seemingly easy way out of debt—working with Wickham—has evolved into a scheme to remove a woman from Pemberley. Remove? I am fooling no one. It will be deemed kidnapping. Kidnapping! How odious that sounds!

After Wickham had explained her part in the plan, she had almost convinced herself that she was being noble. After all, she was only going to convince the woman that she should sail from England to protect Mr. Darcy from her husband’s ire—that if she had any feelings for Fitzwilliam Darcy, surely she would want no harm to come to him. But, in the back of her mind, Cecile knew better.

She was disconcerted and her conscience would not be soothed so easily. Certainly, she was not above pilfering a few baubles from her rich acquaintances to support herself, but this scheme was malevolent. Why had the woman found it necessary to flee her husband in the first place? Was he violent? Would he kill her if she were in his power again?

Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, Cecile pondered the enigmatic Fitzwilliam Darcy. If he had not forsaken her for that woman, her gaming debts would long ago have been paid, and she would now want for nothing. As it was, she lived in a half-furnished townhouse with only a few servants left, and the proverbial wolf was at the door. She lifted her chin. So why should I care one whit about Mr. Darcy or what he wants.

Darcy’s abrupt turnaround, followed by Lord Farthington’s betrayal, had left her facing complete ruin. Nevertheless, she did not dislike Farthington as much as Darcy. She was never enamoured of him, as he had been merely a means to an end. Darcy, however, was very handsome as well as wealthy. No man of his looks and means had ever paid her any attention, much less offered for her. She had looked forward to parading him past the beauties of the ton who had tried to catch him for years. But alas, in the end, he had found her wanting, just as other men had.

Now, her funds squandered and her affairs in complete disarray, the empty room she occupied served as a symbol of her empty life, and Cecile hated it. She picked up a Dresden china cup and hurled it against the fireplace, watching it shatter it into a thousand tiny pieces. There was nothing to be done. She had no choice, if she valued her life, but to help Wickham spirit this woman from Pemberley. Besides, Cecile reasoned, she could leave the country with the ten-thousand pounds that would be her share and begin life anew.

Having made up her mind, she moved to the liquor cabinet where she poured herself a small glass of brandy. Drinking it down in one swallow, she sat down at a small writing table and took out paper and pen. A letter

Cecile received that morning from a friend in Derbyshire mentioned that Mr. Darcy had been seen returning to Town, and she knew that Wickham would want to set their plan in motion. Thus, she would share that bit of information with him.

After writing the short note, she rang for a servant, instructing him as to how to find the address of Wickham’s current residence. As the man left the room, she rose and poured herself another drink. Quickly downing it, Cecile headed out of the room intending to commence packing while she waited for his reply. It would not serve for her to dwell on what she was about to undertake.

Darcy House

William’s Study

Darcy leaned back in his chair, fidgeting with his pen and making his cousin nervous just watching him. “So Lieutenant Marbury thinks he has a good lead on Count Stefano or whatever he is calling himself this week?”

“Yes.” Richard replied, chuckling at William’s quip. “Marbury assures me that the count is in London. It is only a matter of time until he learns of the count’s location. We have to be ready at a moment’s notice, as he is a slippery snake and apparently changes addresses as often as most people change clothes.”

William scowled. “No doubt he has people other than us on his trail.” Closing his tired eyes and rubbing them, he took a deep breath. “I would like to get this matter behind me and go home to Elizabeth as soon as possible.”

Richard smiled. “I have never known a man so eager to face an opponent. According to Marbury, the count is very accurate with pistol and sword.”

William’s eyes opened, fixed on Richard and then narrowed. “He had better be.”