Page 93 of In Want of a Suspect

Not if he didn’t stop calling her love—Darcy’s pet namefor her was making her weak at the knees. Darcy helped her to her feet and kept his arm around her as she took in the scene. There were at least twenty men milling about the church. Three alone were restraining Mr. Hughes while another held a weeping Josette. Another man was seeing to her maid, and two more were speaking with the clergyman.

“Splendid!” came a jovial shout that cut through the church and the chatter.

Lizzie and Darcy turned to see a man who appeared neither young nor old, with hair that was neither blond nor brown, striding down the center aisle toward them. Unlike the rest of the men, who were clothed in dark colors, he wore the red jacket of an officer.

And it was because he was wearing that jacket that Lizzie realized she’d seen him before.

“You,” Lizzie and Darcy said at the same time.

“Yes, me,” he agreed, smiling with true delight. “I suppose it’s time we’re properly acquainted now, isn’t it?”

Twenty-One

In Which Lizzie and Darcy Uncover Leticia Beaufort’s Final Secret

“YOU GAVE US DIRECTIONS,”Lizzie said.

“And you were at the club when I tracked down the magistrate!” Darcy added.

The man smiled and nodded, as though they were answering questions correctly. “Yes, and a few other places here and there, not that you—”

“The park, too,” Lizzie interrupted. “You were in the crowd of onlookers after Leticia’s body was discovered!”

“I’ve had the most peculiar feeling we’ve been watched,” Darcy added. “Like an itch you can’t quite scratch.”

“Yes, yes,” he said now, his genial expression never slipping. “I’ve been following you since you asked for directions to the Mullins Brothers storehouse.”

“But why?” Lizzie’s question came out sharper than she intended, but her long night of no sleep was catching up with her. “Who are you?”

“The name is Graves,” he said, purposely omitting any sort of rank or title. “Shall we sit?”

Lizzie glanced at Darcy, who tilted his head in a gesture that she read as,Let’s hear him out.

She plopped down in the hard pew, her muscles and limbs crying out in relief. Darcy sat next to her and took her hand in his. “All right,” he said, studying Graves with suspicion. “Explain.”

“Right, well—first of all, apologies about the tail. But I had to know whether or not you were in on the Mullins brothers’ smuggling ring. You understand, Miss Bennet—you are Mr. Mullins’s legal representation. Lesser men might have helped him avoid being charged in exchange for a share of the profit, or a few bolts of silks...”

Any other time, Lizzie might have been indignant to find her integrity questioned. But now she simply nodded. “But I am no man, sir. And you already knew about the smuggling ring. You were already watching the storehouse.”

“Yes,” Graves confirmed.

“And did you know that the woman at its head is none other than Lady Catherine de Bourgh?”

Graves winced. “Yes.”

“You were supposed to have her in custody!” Darcy shouted, jumping to his feet. “I spoke with the admiral a year ago, and he assured me that she would be arrested before the week was out!”

“Yes, well, it turns out she’s a wily one. Mr. Darcy, sit, please. I’ll answer your questions, but I don’t want to have to restrain you.”

Lizzie tugged on Darcy’s arm. Darcy exhaled, then sat. “All right. Tell us what happened.”

“Her ship was intercepted before your information could be shared with the fleet,” he said pleasantly, as if they were gossiping over tea. “And that woman—she’s a smart one. She convinced the captain that she’d been kidnapped by the crew! They didn’t even suspect her, and when they arrived at Portsmouth, she escaped.”

Lizzie was almost impressed by Lady Catherine’s gall. “And no one sought to inform us?”

“She tried to kill Lizzie!” Darcy added.

“Please don’t take offense, Miss Bennet, but we believed Lady Catherine to be engaged in more pressing matters than exacting revenge on you.”