Darcy kept his hand on the windowpane, the glass cool under his fingers. The street below was alive with activity, nothing like the quiet peace of Pemberley.

Here there was the usual bustle of carts and coaches and carriages moving through the cobblestoned roads, people hurrying to their destinations or dallying in the parks.

This was the usual, and yet it seemed entirely different. Perhaps because of his circumstances. He was not in London by choice. Darcy did not enjoy town, and would have remained in Pemberley until that dreaded finally Season came for him to see Georgiana out in society. At home he could pretend she'd be his little sister forever, not someone's wife, a mother to her own young family… but here? He felt the march of time, like water seeping between his fingers.

Every visit to town made him know in his bones that the time of life just as the two of them, and the quiet joy of filial affection between them, was coming to an end.

At least the townhome in Mayfair was comfortable. His London housekeeper had seen to that when he'd informed her he would be coming into town for the Season, a shock to her soul, no doubt.

It had been a shock to him as well, although the news driving him to abandon the comfort of Pemberley had been brought to him by letter alone, not the usual gossip of the Ton, so his housekeeper was not the wiser to the real cause of his sudden desire to see London for the Season. And neither would she become wise to it, nor any of the staff that peopled the house. Georgiana was safely tucked away at Pemberley, where she would be watched and guarded by his staff and a kind but wary governess he had secured.

She was a woman who had brought up five young ladies in one family over the last decade, right in the heart of Mayfair, and all had successful matches in their first Season. Mrs. Anton, widowed herself, was more than wise enough to the guard Georgiana and protect her, and the rest of Pemberley's staff were well aware how close they had come to losing her…

None of them would turn a blind eye to any attempted missives from one particular nasty man, unworthy of being called a gentleman.

Darcy could attend to his business in London, and hurry back to Georgiana's side as soon as possible. She was still not fully recovered from-

The knock on the door alerted him to a visitor, and he turned away from the window.

"Come."

"Colonel Fitzwilliam, sir," his butler said, stepping into the room.

Richard Fitzwilliam, a welcome sight, entered shortly after the butler, his eyes scanning around for any other guests before lighting his gaze on Darcy. The butler quietly left the two men to speak, and Darcy felt the first smile to grace his face since he'd arrived in London, stretching across his face at the sight of his cousin.

"The coach felt like a prison, and I have no desire to be seated on anything, moving or otherwise, for the rest of the evening. So… up for a game of billiards, Darcy?" His cousin seemed to be happy to be on leave and at Darcy's side. But then, Colonel Fitzwilliam was always better suited to sociable situations, and was a good companion to make the rounds and keep Darcy from making a fool of himself. His cousin would more than cover for Darcy's own habitual reticence.

"In a moment," Darcy said, "there's something I need to discuss with you."

"Of course, is it the usual?" Richard shut the door to the drawing room behind him and joined Darcy in the middle of it.

"No."

"Oh." Richard raised his brow, and Darcy sighed, running a hand over his face.

"It seems I've been called to account by our Aunt Catherine. I received a letter this morning from her—"

Richard's expression turned grave, and he listened with intent.

"She has taken exception to my quick departure from Pemberley—"

"It was not to be helped. Surely she must understand that."

"No," Darcy refrained from biting the inside of his cheek, a boy's habit he had long outgrown, but in that moment, he was sorely tempted. "I would not have come if not for feeling as though my hand is being forced. You know that. Georgiana is not yet well enough to join me here, and the doctor said—"

"You have a duty, and Georgiana understands. The Season does not wait for a sick young lady to be well enough for her brother to travel, especially one with such a mission as yours."

In this, Darcy knew he was right to trust Richard, who was scarcely a closer companion to him than Bingley.

Bingley... the man would be in Mayfair in under a week, perhaps two, although he would be accompanied by his sisters and brother-in-law, the three of them whom Darcy found barely tolerable at the best of times. Needs must could be trying.

Being in London with them, without the calming effects of the rolling Derbyshire countryside to soothe him, would test him to his maxim.

But it was a necessary evil. Having Bingley in company would alleviate some of the pain, and with both him and Richard acting as honor guard... Darcy might survive the Season intact.

"So, Georgiana aside, and I can assure you, even if you do not know, your sister wants only but the best for you and knows your place is here in London now until things are… ahem, settled. What did our dear aunt have to say?" Richard asked, pulling Darcy back to the moment at hand.

"I will give you the letter, it is not long." He crossed the room to a table by the bay windows, across which a small travel writing desk had been laid, some correspondence piled neatly beside it. He lifted up the top letter. The seal had been imprinted in so deeply, as if Lady Catherine had wished to signal her displeasure by the ridges of the wax. He passed it over to Richard, who took it delicately, acting as though touching it might burn him.

That behavior teased a smile to Darcy's lips, although it was smothered as he watched Richard's expression tighten, the other man's eyes ranging across the page.

"A scorcher," Richard commented, with none of his usual lightness of tone. "She does get quite flowery when incensed," he observed after another minute.

"So it would seem," Darcy murmured.

"It is not unexpected, though, given what you've already told me. But this is most unusual, Darcy. To think she would go so far as to threaten your—"

Darcy hissed out a breath and the Colonel, a man who'd faced down more violent foes than one Lady Catherine De Bourgh, snapped his mouth shut.

"Threatening my mother is one thing," Darcy said, "for her memory lingers, but she is already in heaven, and she can take no more harm from Lady Catherine. But others in my family are less likely to escape her wrath."

"She wouldn't ruin Georgiana's chances," Richard muttered. "She wouldn't." He flicked the letter with his fingers as if to curse it, and then folded it, tossing it back on the table without a care to neatly stack it with the rest of the letters that were awaiting Darcy's response.

"But she's threatening to. And Cousin Anne is a fragile creature," Darcy reminded him. "Were she not so ill-tempered from it, and her mother insistent that we marry, I might feel for Anne in a way. But that does not mean I will sacrifice my future happiness, or indeed her life, can you imagine, she could not ever become with child-"

"A reason to take a mistress, if one wants to continue the line," Richard mused, and Darcy shot him a harsh look. Richard lifted his hands to stave off reproach. "I know how you feel about such matters, and the men who engage in them-"

"No better than they ought to be. Vows, I do not take lightly."

"So then you would never—"

"Never."

"Then, pray, what are we to do, my dear cousin, about our Aunt Catherine's wishes?" Richard asked, his tone low and serious.

"Ignore them, until I can do so no longer. And hope that at some point, I can find a woman worthy of the name Darcy this Season."

Richard seemed to measure Darcy's serious mood, and did not tease him about it. "And so you shall. But first, billiards. It will calm your nerves and take your mind off such worries. How can you think of more serious concerns, as I am picking your pocket of everything but the lint?"

"You know me so well, cousin," Darcy said, taking his hat and gloves from the table, and followed Fitzwilliam out.

Thank you for all your wonderful feedback! It really does cheer me up. I am also astonished and grateful for everyone who has pre-ordered the book on Amazon. It will be releasing toward the end of the month. I will continue to update with chapters weekly for those who cannot order, but to those that do: thank you from the bottom of my heart. I foster and rescue many dogs, as well as volunteer as a service-dog trainer, and all proceeds from my book sales go to helping me do this! You are helping me save and change lives, and myself and the four-footed furry ones are very grateful.

~Nora