The last two days have passed in a blur. Charles and Andrea have already looked at two potential properties and have another viewing lined up for tomorrow. There’s still a chance, however slim, that something could come from the IP angle, that Fitz and his team could uncover a means to get Meryton back to Charles and Andrea. I haven’t even raised the subject with Darcy since Sunday. But then, with our respective work schedules limiting our time together, we’ve been prioritizing nonverbal exchanges.

I hear Darcy’s footsteps behind me. “Did you get what you needed?” I ask, and turn to face him. My stomach flips over. He’s carrying the green messenger bag Jane put my design work in Sunday.

Darcy stops short at my reaction, his eyes soft with apology as he gestures to the nearest island. I sigh but step onto it, taking a seat in a round booth. He slides in beside me and places the bag on the table, pulling out a manila folder. Brightly colored tabs protrude from the top and sides, as though the contents have been sorted and labeled. “Sunday, you said it was too raw to look through these. But would it be okay now?”

In answer, I open the file. But my bravado ends there. The first page is a version of the design scheme Wickham stole, as rendered at Pemberley. My chest constricts, and two days of positive momentum can’t restrain the reprimand that bounces in my skull: so, so stupid.

Darcy puts his hand on my back, and I lean into his touch. “This is the one he has, but at Meryton?”

“Yes. I don’t know how I didn’t miss those drawings. Maybe because I’d already moved the idea to Pemberley?” With a pang, I realize it’s the one I started the night I met Darcy, with the dark matte arc behind the stage.

“One of several set here.” He puts the page aside to reveal another Pemberley sketch, then another. My stomach riots. Jane said he’d swept everything from my desk into that bag, but in the general chaos of the day, I failed to consider what that everything might entail. Of course the Pemberley work would be there: I spent Saturday morning finalizing the plan inspired by the Eastern Columbia Building. And now Darcy’s seen the depth of my obsession with his family’s property. Goody.

I avoid eye contact, feeling uncomfortably exposed as the plans are arranged on the table. There are four concepts, most iterations of ideas started at Meryton, though the one with the Eastern’s color scheme is its own. Seeing them laid out gives me a bittersweet swell of pride, despite my embarrassment. This is the best work I’ve done.

“Tell me about this one.” Darcy picks up the page of turquoise and blues. My heart leaps.

I can’t help smiling. “Do you know the Eastern Columbia Building?”