“Still as enthusiastic as ever about these gatherings, I see,” Bingley teased lightly, but Darcy offered no reply. His eyes had drifted back to Elizabeth, who now stood at the edge of the dance floor, Collins gesturing animatedly beside her. Her expression was carefully composed, but Darcy could sense the frustration simmering beneath it.
Bingley followed his gaze, a knowing smile forming on his lips. “Ah, Miss Elizabeth. She does look well tonight, does she not?”
“She always looks well,” Darcy said quietly before he could stop himself.
Bingley’s smile grew. “High praise, coming from you.”
Darcy forced himself to look away. He could feel Bingley’s scrutiny, but he had no intention of indulging it. His goal tonight was clear: remain distant, remain excessively polite, and most importantly, remain unnoticed in regard to Elizabeth Bennet. Any appearance of particular attention would only serve to stoke the unwholesome flames of gossip that Caroline Bingley had so gleefully kindled.
But as the first strains of music filled the air, and the dancers took their places, Darcy found his resolve tested. Elizabeth had taken to the floor with Collins, and though Darcy had no desire to be in the clergyman’s place, he could not look away. Collinsstumbled through the opening steps, his movements clumsy and exaggerated. Elizabeth, by contrast, moved with grace, her expression a mask of polite endurance.
Oh, dash it all, what was the use? Everyone else was looking at her. Elizabeth Bennet did capture attention—hisattention, most dangerously of all. And that was precisely why he had to ensure that no one else noticed.
It was a delicate balance. He had no intention of indulging his own feelings, but he could not deny that he felt protective of her, especially with Wickham probably lurking somewhere in the crowd. The man had a knack for inserting himself where he was least wanted, and Darcy had no doubt he would attempt to engage Elizabeth before the night was through.
“Darcy, you have not forgot the supper set, have you?” Bingley asked. “Our deal?”
Darcy’s grip on the stem of his glass tightened slightly, though his outward composure remained intact. “I had not forgot.”
“Good,” Bingley replied, smiling faintly. “One dance, Darcy. Then you may safely ignore her for the rest of the evening. That is all it will take to silence Caroline’s teasing and prove your point. And I…” he sighed reluctantly. “I suppose I will be obliged to write to my solicitor and sell the mill.”
Darcy made no immediate reply. The very idea of dancing with her left him uneasy.
“I shall ask her,” he said at last, his voice low. “At the appropriate time.”
“Excellent,” Bingley said with satisfaction. “You might even enjoy it, Darcy.”
Darcy said nothing in response, though inwardly he braced himself. One dance might satisfy Bingley’s challenge, but half an hour on the dance floor, followed by an hour or more sitting beside her at supper...
His gaze drifted back to Elizabeth, who was still enduring Mr. Collins’s attentions with remarkable patience. He allowed himself one brief moment of indulgence, imagining how different the evening might be if he could approach her without consequence, without the burden of reputation weighing upon every action.
But such thoughts were dangerous, and Darcy had no intention of entertaining them further. He would ask Elizabeth for the supper set, fulfill the terms of the wager, and ensure that no one—not even himself—could mistake it for anything more.
Elizabeth had scarcely finishedthe third dance with Paul Goulding when she noticed Darcy approaching.At last!His expression was as composed as ever, yet there was something in his bearing—something deliberate—that caught her attention.
“Miss Bennet,” he said as he reached her, bowing slightly. “Might I have the honor of the supper set?”
For a moment, Elizabeth could only blink at him. This was… entirely too easy. She had imagined a game of cat and mouse throughout the evening, with herself as the cunning predator, coaxing Darcy into revealing more than he intended. Yet here he was, asking her directly, as though it were the most natural thing in the world.
She smiled, masking her surprise. “Certainly, Mr. Darcy. I would be delighted.”
Mr. Collins, who was still lingering too close for comfort, looked fit to swoon. “Ah, Cousin Elizabeth! You are much sought after this evening, but I trust you will not forget your humble relation. Perhaps you might join me for another—”
“I believe, Mr. Collins, that Sir William was hoping to speak with you,” Darcy interrupted. “I trust you were aware? Sir William is quite keen to hear more about your recent efforts at Hunsford. On my honor, I heard him speaking to Mr. Bennet about it not five minutes ago.”
Collins’s face lit up. “Indeed? Well, if that is the case, I must not delay.”
With an elaborate bow, he excused himself, leaving Elizabeth momentarily stunned by the ease with which Darcy had dispatched him. She scarcely contained her amusement as she turned back to Darcy. “That was well done.”
“I have found that certain conversations are best left to those who appreciate them.”
Elizabeth laughed softly. “Poor Sir William. He may never forgive you.”
“I am willing to risk it,” Darcy replied, a faint smile playing at the corner of his mouth. After a brief pause, he added, “Would you care for some punch, Miss Bennet? Or are you otherwise engaged?”
Elizabeth hesitated for a moment, caught slightly off guard by the unexpected civility of the offer. “Yes, thank you. That would be most welcome.”
Darcy inclined his head and turned toward the refreshment table, leaving Elizabeth to watch his retreating form with a mix of curiosity and newfound amusement. She had expected Darcy to keep his distance tonight, but instead, he seemed intent on behaving like… like agentleman. Without even being provoked to it. How very unexpected—and how very intriguing.
