Lord Wellington’s calm vanished. He shot to his feet, a slighter man than Darcy and inches shorter, but whip-taut and dangerous. “Watch your words.”
Mr. Tinsdale stood and landed a beefy hand on each man’s back. “Gentlemen. We are all honorable men—and women,” he added, glancing at me. “Do not quarrel over actions in defense of England.”
The tension stretched, then Lord Wellington nodded. He settled into his chair, crossing one polished Hussar boot over his trousered knee.
Darcy did not sit. He stood with fists clenched. I grasped his wrist and tugged, then harder. At last, he sat, his shoulders square.
It was time for a cooler head. Unexpectedly, that appeared to be me.
“Whatever skills Miss Darcy has, they do not include commanding draca to fight,” I said. Darcy’s hand caught my forearm, but I ignored him. “Georgiana is a gentle soul, not even married and bound. It is not her you want.”
“Then who?” Lord Wellington said, his gray eyes bright. Perhaps this had been his ploy all along—the master strategist forcing Darcy to reveal either Georgiana or me without breaking the letter of his promise.
“I am the one who commands draca,” I said. “If you are gathering ‘testimony,’ your agents will tell you soon enough. I did so before a room of witnesses, no more than an hour ago. I am a great wyfe. My skills far outstrip Miss Darcy’s.”
That last part was flatly untrue, as Miss Darcy was a great wyfe in her own, different way. But her skills were certainly unsuited to war.
Lord Wellington slapped his boot with a fierce grin. “Mrs. Darcy, your country will thank you.”
“Thanks are premature,” I said. “I will not assist a war.”
The War Secretary had watched with relief. “So it is Mrs. Darcy that we require?Onlyher?”
“Yes,” Lord Wellington said.
“Well, that is much better. A pair of ladies seemed like trouble.” The War Secretary gave me an encouraging smile. “Overcome your feminine anxiety, Mrs. Darcy. You need only deliver the dragon and ensure it is compliant. Wellington will manage the messy part.”
“Compliant?” I laughed in disbelief. “Your arrogance is astonishing. First, the dragon has aname—”
Darcy rose, abruptly as poised and disciplined as an ambassador at a royal ball. “Mrs. Darcy will not assist a war because I have forbidden it.” He offered me his hand. After a moment of surprise, I put my fingers in his and rose as well.
Darcy gave a slight bow to the War Secretary. “Your trust in sharing this information is appreciated. In turn, you may trust that any information I withheld was in service to solemn vows. I have never compromised England’s security, nor will I do so while I draw breath. I swear this on my honor.”
“Well, certainly.” The War Secretary was flustered. “I thought nothing else.”
“The situation is grave,” Darcy continued. “I must study your request. Three days would suffice.”
Lord Wellington’s eyes narrowed, but the War Secretary nodded. “Of course.”
Darcy bowed deeply, and I curtsied. We turned to go, but Mr. Tinsdale’s solid hand caught mine, and he bowed to me. “Mrs. Darcy. Your counsel was heard today. And valued.”
I nodded silently, then Darcy and I left.
“Why three days?”I whispered as we hurried toward the exit. I was trotting to keep up with his long strides, but the motion was a relief. I blazed with energy.
“I wished to speak with you,” he said as he held the door to the yard. “And it is better that I deny the Council than you. Women have few rights under the law. The choice of three days was arbitrary.”
“Arbitrary? What has happened to my precise husband?”
Darcy stopped in the center of the yard. He took my hands and pulled me close. I had to throw back my head to look into his eyes.
“Elizabeth, do not joke. When you bound Yuánchi, he… challenged you.”
“I have not forgotten,” I said. “He asked if I was the wyfe of war.”
“More than asked. He threatened. He said he could not bind the wyfe of war.”
“But we do not even know what ‘wyfe of war’ means. And if that is your concern, there is no need. I refuse to be involved in war.”
