“I am not afraid of you, cousin.”
“You should be,” was Darcy’s only reply.
And now, here he was back in London, attending the promised functions. He may not have minded, but three sets in one night including the supper set, meant that four hours of his life each evening was gone. Wasted, never to return.
“Darcy!”
He turned to see his good friend Charles Bingley and almost smiled in greeting until his gaze landed on the woman clutching his arm. All joy leeched from his body at the sight of Miss Caroline Bingley. From the first moment they had been introduced three years ago, she had made it very plain she saw herself as the next Mistress of Pemberley. He was equally determined she would never cross the threshold of any of his homes bearing the name, Mrs. Darcy. He’d fake his death before he waited at an altar for her arrival.
“Bingley, Miss Bingley,” he said with a polite bow of greeting.
“Mr. Darcy,” the lady simpered as she sank into a curtsy. “We are so pleased to see you again. It has been an age.”
“We saw Darcy just the other day, Caroline. What are you going on about?” Bingley ignored the glare his sister settled upon him. “I am glad we came across you so quickly. It is quite the crush tonight.”
“I saw you almost immediately, Mr. Darcy.”
Did she just bat her eyelashes at him? Although he loathed the activity, he had to secure a dance partner who was not Miss Bingley, which gave him a valid reason to avoid the two siblings.
“Pray, excuse me, I must find a partner for the second set.”
“But the dancing has not started,” Miss Bingley protested.
“I am aware; however, I must secure the young lady’s set before they are all taken.”
“All my dances are open, sir. Shall I reserve the supper set for you?”
He kept his expression as bland as possible at her brazen behavior.
“I have already chosen another partner, Miss Bingley.” Although not true, he wasn’t interested in entertaining her delusional thoughts that he saw her as a potential spouse. Ignoring her sharp gasp, he continued, “Let us speak later, Bingley. We have matters to discuss in private.”
“Of course, I will look for you during supper. What salon are you in?”
“The first one.”
“We are in the third.” Bingley frowned slightly, then his face cleared up. “Well, no matter. I shall likely take a walk through the card room to see who is there. We can have a drink before the dancing starts again. I have something quite exciting to tell you.”
“I will keep an eye out for you,” Darcy promised. “I really must go. Lady Evelyn has arrived and I wish to secure a set.”
He gave the brother and sister a polite nod of the head and strode through the crowd, uncaring of where he went as long as it was away from Miss Bingley. Unwilling to remain a stationary target for the determined miss, he escaped to the other side of the room near the entrance, whereupon he discovered Ashton had arrived.
“I have a bone to pick with you over the terms of our wager,” his cousin said by way of greeting.
“Really?”
“Yes.”
“I do not believe I have reneged on any of the terms.”
“No, you mangy cur, but you have found a way to side-step the most important one.”
Darcy could not help the dark smile that crossed his face and his mind hearkened back to the first ball he attended to fulfill the agreed-upon terms. By a fluke of circumstance, he had solicited Lady Hudson, a dear friend of his late mother for the supper set, whereupon he discovered a loophole. He did not have to suffer the inane prattle of a simpering miss for nigh unto two hours if his supper sets were reserved for well-educated, happily married matrons. He refused to waste valuable time with young ladies whose only goal in life was to find a wealthy husband.
“I have no idea what you are talking about, Ashton.”
“Did you think I would not notice that all your dinner partners already have a wedding ring firmly attached to their finger?”
“Have they? I had not realized.”
