Page 18 of In Want of a Suspect

Oh, Lizzie. Darcy couldn’t help but smile at the way she’d neatly backed him into that corner. “Miss Josette Beaufort is an heiress. She’s half French, but she was brought up here in London by her grandmother Mrs. Cavendish.”

“Half French? What a thing to be in London society.”

“You know what the ton is like. They love their French brandy and silks. But an actual French lady...”

“The poor girl,” Lizzie said, and there was real sympathy in her voice. “I can’t imagine many proper society mamas wanting her as a match for their darling sons.”

Was it his imagination, or was Lizzie watching him extra closely? “Quite the contrary—she had many suitors. Her dowry was... not insignificant.”

“Oh, so you courted her long enough to learn the exact amount of her dowry?”

“No! I mean... it wasn’t like that. My father’s firm represented her grandfather, so my father had an... idea. It was likely just much more accurate than anyone else’s guesses.”

Luckily, Lizzie seemed more amused than upset to hear the details of him courting another woman. “All right, then. She has beauty, money, connections...”

“It was just... awful timing. Her dance card was always full, but... it seemed as though she never had any serious offers. She was brought up by her grandmother, but little was known about her father. And then there was the scandal of her mother. She was quite the diamond of the first water, but she ran off with a Frenchman.”

“I loathe that term,” Lizzie complained. “Women are human beings, not jewels for men to buy.”

“I know, I know,” Darcy said. “Sorry.”

“No, go on. So, really, it was just a small matter of a long-ago scandal that kept her from receiving serious marriage proposals. Is that what prevented you from proposing marriage?”

“I— What, no! I genuinely enjoyed her company. I thought her a very accomplished young lady. She has a poise to her...” Darcy fumbled for the words to explain his opinion of Josette Beaufort that would not give Lizzie reason to think he still had feelings for her. “Truth be told, I felt sorry for her. It’s not her fault she was born in France or grew up during a time of social upheaval, but she doesn’t indulge in self-pity.”

He’d hoped that would be satisfactory to Lizzie, but then she asked, “What is she like?”

Darcy shifted uncomfortably, and looked down at the dog, who was also staring at him. “Lizzie, if this is too uncomfortable for you...”

Now, she revealed a small ironic smile. “It’s not, although it does seem to be making you rather restless.”

Damn this lady and her ability to make him so unsure of himself! “I just don’t want you to get any false impressions!”

“So tell me what happened,” she implored him. “Darcy, we’ve known each other a year, but we both have friends and acquaintances from before then. You’re the Pemberley heir. I am not so naive to think that you haven’t had interest from otheryoung ladies before.” Her cheeks seemed to pink at the wordinterest, but she rushed to add, “That doesn’t hurt my feelings.”

Relief washed over him. “Really?”

“The only way I’ll be cross is if you keep things from me,” she told him with a playful smile. “I promise I shall not dislike Miss Beaufort unless I have valid reason to do so.”

“I did like her,” Darcy allowed. “But as we got to know each other, I began to suspect that we’d never be well suited to each other. First of all, she hoped to marry quickly and be settled away from London. She doesn’t like the prying eyes and gossip that come with being on the marriage mart.”

“And you’d never settle away from London,” Lizzie concluded.

“Maybe one day. But not now, and not while I am establishing my career.” Lizzie seemed surprised by that, but now was not the time to talk about Darcy’s far-off future dreams. “And I certainly was not seriously interested in marrying two years ago. I believe she wanted a husband who would be more of a society gentleman than my work allows me to be.”

“What happened?”

“Why do you think anything happened?”

“Because you keep looking out the window or down at your hands rather than at me. Something happened.”

Darcy shook his head and forced himself to look at her. Arguing with a fellow solicitor was rather difficult. “I proposed.”

“Youwhat?”

“Proposed,” Darcy repeated, fighting the urge to once againlook away from Lizzie. “Clearly, she turned me down. And I am grateful she did, really. But it was all so long ago—”

“Two years is notthatlong ago!”