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“He likes to have his own way very well,” replied Colonel Fitzwilliam. “But so we all do. It is only that he has better means of having it than many others, because he is rich, and many others are poor. I speak feelingly. A younger son, you know, must be inured to self-denial and dependence.”

—Pride and Prejudice

Three Weeks Later, London

COLONEL BENJAMIN FITZWILLIAM watched from a dark corner of the large hall as his brother, the Earl of Matlock, dazzled every young lady in the room.

It didn’t matter that Matlock, six years his senior, was thirty-eight and had no interest in marriage.

Benj knew his brother had toyed with far too many women’s hearts.

It was disturbingly easy to appear desirable and wholesome in a ballroom.

At least some of Benj’s friends were honorable.

Mr. Darcy, though his dancing was mediocre at best, currently stood up with his wife, obliging Lizzy’s love of the pastime.

Mr. and Mrs. Bingley were at the refreshment table, not dancing as Mrs. Bingley had endured a difficult delivery of a child a few months earlier.

When the dance finished, Benj saw Darcy scan the room and then set off in his direction. Once he approached the chaise, Darcy wiped his brow and took up residence on the next cushion over. “Oh, how the tables have turned. You are sulking in the corner, and I actually enjoyed that dance.”

Benj raised his eyes to the heavens. Darcy seemed to guess what was on his friend’s mind.

“Matlock driving you mad again, eh? Pay him no heed.”

“How does one ignore a brother?” Benj murmured.

Especially one so ostentatious as his. Matlock could do whatever he wished, aimlessly court whomever he desired, go wherever he pleased.

Benj had to keep and tell secrets to pad his income, and the only woman he’d been remotely interested in during the last half year he had thrown up on and then learned she was married.

The humiliation that happened on the side of the road while on his secret mission over the past few weeks was too painful to dwell on. He stood, but Darcy promptly tugged on his sleeve, pulling him forcefully back to sitting.

“What?” Benj asked.

“I must take advantage of your covert position at present. I need a favor.”

Darcy never asked for favors. Sufficiently intrigued and drawn from his own gloom, he turned to face his cousin. “Of course.”

“You know Lizzy is reaching her confinement.” In truth, Benj had forgotten.

Lizzy looked well in everything she wore and danced like she was the belle of the ball.

He glanced over, only now noticing it was obvious she was with child.

“Tomorrow, we will return home, and she will no longer be able to function as Georgiana’s chaperone,” Darcy continued.

“Georgiana wanted this Season so desperately that I could not deny it. She’s made the acquaintance of a widow, even had her to stay at Pemberley, and now she wishes for the woman to be her chaperone here. ”

“Sounds like a perfect situation.”

“I thought so, too, these past weeks. Do you remember Clara Engsol?”

“Perhaps. Was her father rich but very shrewd and exacting?”

“Yes, the man has passed away now, but he amassed a fortune. He had only a daughter, and he set her up very well. Her dowry was something everyone envied, and I have been acquainted with the family for several years. Clara, though younger than me, was kind and never ostentatious and seemed quite smart. So, when I was thinking of possible options for Georgiana and heard Clara was now a widow, it seemed perfect.”

With all those details, Benj did recall the name and the prosperity of the family. He’d known as a younger son of an earl that he wouldn’t ever garner much attention from someone so wealthy. “That’s too bad her husband died.” Benj couldn’t fathom what he had to do with all of this.

Darcy nodded and cleared his throat with the solemnity of a clergyman.

“Georgiana thinks Clara is perfect for the role of chaperone. But she is young, and now that we’re in London where everyone seems to be a rake”—Darcy rubbed his hands together—“I’ve started second-guessing myself.

” He shot his eyes to his cousin, who functioned nearly as a brother.

They’d been through enough with Georgiana and those trying to prey on her already.

“I need you to spy on the chaperone. Be around them enough to know what they are about. Inform me if there’s anything suspicious.

Make sure she really is a good choice and that she doesn’t introduce Georgiana to anyone dreadful. ”

“Darcy . . .” Benj was an army man. A colonel. He was a great number of things but certainly not a babysitter of young ladies.

Darcy’s face looked as though he’d eaten a lime, skin and all, off the refreshment table. “I can’t do it. Lizzy needs me!”

That was true. Benj closed his eyelids, wishing for another solution to be written on the back of them. They came back blank. “Fair enough.”

“You of all people have skills in espionage.”

He’d never explicitly told Darcy anything. But the man caught on to a great deal, even though he never showed it.

Benj let out a sigh. “Very well.”

Darcy clapped his leg and leaned forward. “Thank you. They’ll be here soon. Georgiana wanted her own carriage so that she could stay later than Lizzy would be able. I know I ought to allow her more independence as she’s nearly eighteen, but sometimes I still worry—”

“All right.” So maybe he’d have some time to get used to this idea. “By the way, what is Miss Engsol’s name now?”

Darcy’s eyes scanned the farthest archway and gestured with only his eyebrows. “It’s Mrs. Hughes. Let me introduce you.”

Hughes. Though he’d never had trouble with his eyesight, Benj squinted across the room as Darcy pulled him along. The woman they walked toward was all too familiar. Petite. Blonde hair, red lips. Even a charming little birthmark above her top lip.

He didn’t need an introduction.

Apparently, Mrs. Hughes wasn’t a “Mrs.” anymore.

DARCY CHARGED ACROSS the room, and Benj followed, but at the last minute, his courage failed him, and when his brother motioned to him, he turned into that circle instead.

Matlock was telling him about his latest winnings from a horse race, but he strained behind him to hear Darcy and the ladies at his back.

“Georgiana, you look lovely tonight,” Mr. Darcy said. “And Mrs. Hughes, as always, thank you for being here.”

“It’s my pleasure,” she said, and he instantly remembered that he liked the timbre of her voice. “And how is your wife, Mr. Darcy?”

“Well, Georgiana has probably told you how much she loves dancing. But we’ve had but one dance, and Lizzy declared she is spent. I think this will be her last ball for quite some time.”

“She will be the best of mothers,” Mrs. Hughes said.

“I should return to her,” Darcy said, and his voice sounded nearer. Suddenly, Darcy had him by the arm and had pulled him from Matlock’s circle to his own. “But allow me to introduce Colonel Fitzwilliam.”

Despite how poised Mrs. Hughes sounded, the moment she saw him, her mouth hung open, and he thought he heard her murmur, “The retching horseman.”

“Good evening,” he managed, bowing. “Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

He knew he didn’t actually sound pleased. How terrible that a lady so beautiful would remember only his weak stomach.

“Pleased to make yours, too,” she answered, but all sparkle had evaporated from her tone as she curtsied. “Can I just say your countenance is looking quite healthy?”

“You can, thank you,” he choked out.

Darcy and Georgiana exchanged a puzzled look, but Benj was too busy analyzing her light blue eyes to pay them much heed. Mrs. Hughes was taking his measure, wasn’t she?

He would rise to Darcy’s request and figure out the true character of this woman.

“And who is this lovely addition with Miss Georgiana?” Matlock’s voice grated on him as he sauntered into their circle.

Darcy bowed, and everyone else followed suit. Now Benj really did want to retch as he watched his uncouth brother analyze every one of her features as though she were the next ball to hit in his billiard game.

“Allow me to introduce,” Darcy said, “the Earl of Matlock, elder brother to our colonel, and my esteemed cousin. My lord, this is Mrs. Clara Hughes.”

“Of the late Reginald Hughes?” The earl’s interested brows raised a degree higher. It was as though the billiard ball had just entered the desired pocket.

“Yes, sir.”

She was on trial. Benj watched her, amazed at how she could appear sophisticated and yet demure and modest at the same time.

“I see. I am sorry for your loss.” His brother’s pause was too short. “Do you have a partner for the next dance?”

Benj winced. One did not turn down an earl, but was he right in thinking she wouldn’t dance?

Darcy’s gaze turned slightly to his sister, Georgiana. She was supposed to be the focus of the gentlemen, not this chaperone.

Before anyone could speak for her, Mrs. Hughes smiled toward the earl. “I am a chaperone, and therefore, it is not customary that I dance. But perhaps I might dance once with your brother, and you could lead out your cousin so that she might stand to advantage for the rest of the evening.”

“A splendid idea,” Darcy said, pushing his sister and his cousin together. The earl’s agitation lasted only a second before he nodded and took Georgiana to the center of the room.

Benj felt bad for Georgiana for a moment before he remembered that he needed to extend his hand.

This woman was all too expert. Throwing him off her trail, then Matlock off her trail, and then drawing himself in again. Darcy might be onto something. She was trouble.

And far, far too handsome for a chaperone to a young lady; goodness.

“I didn’t think married—I mean, widowed—women like you would dance.” Benj knew it wasn’t the best way to begin a conversation, but he couldn’t help it. Her hand in his sent a strange sensation through his middle.

“This will be my only dance of the evening. I was just hoping to get Miss Darcy out into the crowd. It is she who should dance every set.” She arched her brows as she took the dance position.

“Most definitely,” he murmured. She could have said she didn’t dance at all.

Mrs. Hughes was a chaperone, after all. But she hadn’t.

So, here they were, her petite form feeling far too right against his large one.

Pushing away more sensations, he wondered why she hadn’t admitted to being a widow on their first meeting.

“How many years has it been since your husband—?”

“Two and a half.”

He couldn’t help but notice the lack of feeling in her voice. Was she so mercenary that she didn’t even care about the deceased man?

“Widowhood seems like it would be lonely. I’m glad you have Georgiana now.” He would use this conversation to try to discover her motives.

Despite the cheeriness of the allemande, her eyes dimmed, and he wondered if he’d gotten pretty close to the truth.

“It is wonderful to be around her. Few young ladies are so unaffected yet so talented and pleasantly conversant. When she eventually marries, that man will be lucky.”

“He’ll also have to be perfect if Darcy has his way.”

Who was he kidding? Darcy always got his way.

“I am sure that is true, but I’m happy to be at her side as long as she needs me.”

Benj lifted his arm as she circled under it. “Unless someone else snatches you up, too.”

As soon as he said it, he knew it was a mistake.

He wasn’t implying himself, and he surely didn’t want Matlock sinking his claws into someone who seemed so .

. . so smart and wholesome—it wasn’t his place to make a comment like that anyway.

“Forgive me,” he swallowed, wishing his Adam’s apple wasn’t sticking to his cravat.

A coy smile ensconced her face. “No matter,” she said, as easy as she’d ever been. “I don’t plan on letting anyone snatch me, sir.”

“Of course,” he said.

Blundering idiot, Benj.

Most likely that was why she hadn’t mentioned she was a widow to him. She had money and position and clearly had no desire to be courted by someone. He came on too strong and awkward.

As the steps continued, he thought the dance couldn’t end soon enough.

But then Mrs. Hughes took the conversation over, asking about more basic topics, and once they’d discussed favorite dishes found at a refreshment table, his sisters and her lack thereof, favorite animals, and preferred pastimes, he’d almost forgotten the blundering way they started.

Almost.

He danced a few more times that evening, but once he returned home, he found himself analyzing every different piece of information he’d gleaned about Mrs. Hughes, and not from anyone else he’d spoken with that night.

And it wasn’t just because he’d been asked to spy on her.