“Lie low, men. A jaw-me-dead is on the horizon…” Richard drew his hand across his brow as if to shield himself from the expected verbal ice shower.

“And you would deserve it,” Darcy shot back with a snort.

“But I would then make plea to your kind and beneficent nature —” Richard continued. Darcy snorted again but couldn’t suppress a smile. “— and place the blame entirely upon your friend.”

Darcy laughed outright at that. “My friend? Dy hardly spoke to me once he saw you in the room.”

“He was attentive; was he not?”

“Excessively!”

“An amiable gentleman, indeed, and well informed! I had always rated him a care-for-naught and a prime rattle. Never could understand your partiality for him, Fitz. Not your sort.”

“He was not like that at university. Quite the opposite, in fact.”

“So you say.” Fitzwilliam shrugged his shoulders and settled back into the comfort of the coach’s cushions. “And I can almost believe you after last night. Could not understand before why you gave him leave to call on Georgiana while we are on pilgrimage to Rosings; but it was a shrewd decision, I will grant you now.”

Darcy nodded. “Yes, Brougham’s approval will count for much when Georgiana makes her curtsy next year.”

“Oh, that too, I’ll be bound,” Richard agreed. Darcy looked questioningly at his cousin, who in response, laid the newspaper down upon his lap. “You have not noticed how easy Georgiana is with Brougham? He makes her smile in a trice, and they can talk for hours, or would if propriety did not dictate otherwise. Aside from ourselves, I have never known Georgiana to be comfortable in male company, especially since —” Richard suddenly clamped his lips together. A moment of awkward silence passed. “But your friend has managed it, managed it quite well…” His voice trailed off at the frown that had begun to crease Darcy’s brow. “Truly, you had not noticed?”