I shook my head. “I should like something truer to the London experience.” He looked baffled, so I tried, “Away from Mayfair. Away from all those… shops.”
“Something less dear, then?” he said slowly.
I gave a little laugh. “I suppose that would be a benefit.”
“Can’t be a coach inn, ma’am, or a tavern. You wouldn’t be safe.”
“How interesting. What would be safe?”
His cousin lived on a street I had never heard named. The explanation rolled on, alien and unintelligible, thick with his London accent. I crushed the worthless, torn corners of two five-pound bills in my palm.
When he finished, I said, “That sounds charming!”
17
THE COUNCIL, DENIED
LIZZY
It wasthree days after our first, contentious meeting with the Council of War.
The oaken town coach delivered Darcy and me to the street outside Westminster Palace, then rattled off. I stood unmoving, my gaze tracing the jagged stone walls and rough-topped towers. The rock and mortar were ponderous with history.
After a minute, Darcy said dryly, “Has it done anything yet?”
“I know the theme of our ball,” I announced.
He looked at me in surprise. “I was unaware we were having a ball.”
“You agreed,” I pointed out. “Or were about to, at least. To collect politicians, or important personages, or whatever it was.”
“That sounds more vague than my usual agreements.” His eyes were stern, which I thought handsome, but a corner of his mouth twitched, quite ruining the effect.
“We will host the ball at the British Museum,” I explained. “That requires we invite Lady Catherine, which requires the affair be extravagant or she will decline. Do you mind if I invite Mamma, Kitty, and the Bingleys? That will level the playing field.”
He abandoned sternness and snorted. “I cannot imagine why you require permission for them when you are inviting my scurrilous aunt.”
“The theme,” I continued firmly, “will be a new exhibit: the legendary dagger Gramr. Somebody killed a dragon with it, then it was stolen by Queen Mary to…” I toyed with phrasings. “How does this sound: to raise the Dragon Queen of Seraphim! Is that too much? It should be impressive.” I looked up for his reaction.
His dark eyes were thoughtful. “You believe that whoever stole the Pendant of Fiery Justice sought to raise a dragon.”
“Youarequick,” I said, impressed.
“And with the pendant destroyed, they will attend your ball, attempt to steal the dagger, and be captured.”
“Exactly!” I felt a rush of happiness. These effortless agreements were a true joy of my marriage.
“That is a contrived and foolish plan,” Darcy said dismissively. “Now, may we tell the War Secretary that he will not have his dragon?”
“What?It is not foolish!”
He drew a long breath. “Why would the thief steal the dagger at a ball when they could choose a dull day at the museum and avoid witnesses?”
I tapped my toe. “The dagger will be restored to the royal vault after the event. It is far too potent to leave in a dusty drawer.”
“Why not an exhibitwithouta ball?”
“Becauseyouneed influence to fend off the powerful gentlemen you are about to infuriate. And because a ball will publicize itself. We will not have to wander London shouting about magic daggers and hoping to be overheard.” In the spirit of spousal honesty, I admitted, “And I would enjoy a ball. We have been married six months without hosting more than dinner.”
