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"Good Lord, I have married a violent woman!" George cried, rubbing his arm and looking at her with exaggerated injury. "And may I remind you, my darling, that I was unceremoniously ejected from your little conference with your sisters? I should think you forfeited any right to complain about my keeping secrets."

"Enough, enough!" Darcy interrupted, waving a hand impatiently between them. "You may quarrel later. Harwood, for heaven's sake, go on."

"Well, Briar is exceedingly cautious about pursuing the match for two reasons, and I suspect that is what has caused the difficulties between them. He may have said something foolish in an attempt to put some distance between them."

"Why?" Darcy demanded. "What is wrong with Kate? The man would be most fortunate to win her affection, and I am still not convinced I should not throw him out on his ear when he comes round."

"There is nothing wrong with Kate, of course," George assured him. "The first difficulty, according to Briar, is the nature of his work. He travels a great deal and is concerned such a life would not be the ideal circumstances into which to bring a gently bred young lady."

"Oh, what nonsense!" Bella exclaimed. "Kate would love travelling about and learning things. I cannot imagine anything that would please her more than accompanying him to some new archaeological site and spending her days digging up ancient bits and pieces. Has the man met my sister?"

"That was very much my argument," George said, smiling at his wife. "But he was rather stuck upon the idea. The second difficulty is more complicated." He paused, appearing uncertain how best to form his next words. "Briar has a very difficult relationship with his family. He says they are cold and have treated him quite cruelly, and he is worried about bringing someone he cares for into that family."

Darcy frowned. "And who exactly are these people? Have you any idea where his family resides, or what sort of people they are?"

"Yes, well, there is a little more to it than that," George said, looking uncomfortable. "You see, Briar's father is the Earl of Syndham."

Darcy stared at him in astonishment. "Good God, Harwood! Are you telling me the man is a viscount?"

"Yes. He is Viscount Ashbourne, the earl’s eldest son and heir. Briar is an old family name, which he prefers to use in his professional life. He has no wish to advertise his connection to the family."

Darcy sat back heavily in his chair and stared at his son-in-law. "A viscount. The man has been striding about my park digging holes for two weeks, eating at my table, and all the while he has been a viscount? And nobody knew?"

"Apparently so," George replied. "From what I could tell, he was perfectly serious about the matter. He has made a deliberate effort to live independently of his family."

"I have never met the Earl of Syndham," Darcy said thoughtfully. "He had largely withdrawn from society by the time I was a young man, and I cannot recall ever hearing mention of his son. Although I suppose that explains how Briar has managed to keep his identity concealed. I hardly know what to make of it all."

"What a tangled web we weave…" Bella said thoughtfully, looking towards her husband. "And to think I have been sitting opposite a viscount at dinner for weeks without the faintest idea! I wonder if Kate knows."

"Princess, I think you will find your sister has more important things on her mind at present than the man's entry in Debrett's," George said, taking her hand.

"Yes, yes, quite," Darcy interrupted, rising from his chair. "And so do we. I shall write to my man of business in London at once. He will know how to reach the Earl of Syndham."

George looked uncomfortable. "Darcy, given what Briar has told me about his family, I am not sure that is what he would wish. He was adamant he wanted nothing to do with them."

"Then he can direct his anger to me when he awakes," Darcy replied, opening a drawer and retrieving a sheet of writing paper. "Whatever his relationship with his father, I cannot allow the man's eldest son to lie unconscious beneath my roof without informing him. I should be horrified if one of my children were injured so far from home and nobody thought to send word to me. No, Harwood, I shall write, and if Briar wishes to discuss the matter with me, I shall be very pleased to hear his complaints."

Chapter Sixteen

Kate sat in the chair beside Nathaniel Briar's bed and wanted to scream. She had always thought this guest room, with its cheerful buttercup yellow walls and large windows opening out across the park, to be airy and welcoming. But now it felt as oppressive as a prison cell. Martha sat beside her attending to some darning, while Herriot, Mr Briar's valet, fussed with this and that. He would occasionally come to adjust the bedclothes or move items around on the bedside table, a never-ending circuit of small tasks that served no purpose other than to fray Kate’s already tattered nerves. She would have given anything for both of them to disappear. All she wanted was to sit quietly, take his hand and speak to him, even if he could not hear a word she said.

She could hardly bear to look at him like this. She had become so accustomed to his teasing grin and sparkling eyes that the sight of him lying pale and motionless, with an ugly bruise spreading across the left side of his face and his chestnut curls falling untidily over his forehead, made her want to cry. It was a farce that she needed a chaperone at all. Surely an unconscious man posed little risk! But both her mother and father had insisted upon it, and frankly, she would have agreed to anything to be allowed into the room. After three days of enduring Martha's nasal breathing and Herriot's fussing, however, she wanted to take them both by the ear, escort them into the hallway and slam the door.

"Martha, would you be so kind as to fetch me a cup of tea?" she asked, looking over at the older woman, who was examining a hole in a pair of stockings.

"Of course, Miss Kate. Although why don't you come downstairs and have it in the drawing room? You have been sitting here for hours, and a little walk would do you good."

"No, thank you. I should prefer to stay here. But you have been sitting for hours yourself, Martha. Why don't you go and stretch your legs and take a little break? I am sure Cook will have something nice for you in the kitchen."

Martha looked doubtful. "But I promised your mama I would not leave you alone with the gentleman, miss."

"Well, you wouldn't be leaving me alone, would you? Herriot is here, and Mr Briar is hardly in any condition to cause mischief, is he?" Kate looked towards the bed, where Nathaniel continued to lie, still and silent. "Unless, of course, you believe this is all an elaborate ruse on his part, and that the moment you leave the room he will leap from his bed and pounce upon me like the dreadful rake he is."

"Miss Kate!" Martha exclaimed, looking scandalised.

"Mr Briar is the best of men, miss!" Herriot said stiffly, looking affronted on his master's behalf.

"Oh, Herriot, I know he is," Kate said, smiling at him. "I am only trying to convince Martha that my virtue is in no immediate danger."