“Gladly and gloriously,” he said under his breath, and her eyes sparkled in return.
They stepped apart, then back together again.
“You know,” she said in a musing tone, “you really ought to say something about the size of the room. Or perhaps the number of couples. That is the usual formula.”
Darcy tilted his head. “Would you prefer I comment on the weather, or offer a dry remark about the price of ribbons in Meryton?”
She gave a mock gasp. “You do know how to flirt.”
“Do I?”
“Barely.”
He huffed a quiet laugh, then leaned a little closer. “I confess I was too overwhelmed to remember my conversational duties. You are quite—bewitching tonight.”
Her eyes widened, but she only murmured, “That will do nicely for a start.”
They danced in silence for a few steps more, the air between them warm and charged.
“It is quite crowded tonight. I see Mr. Bingley has invited the entire regiment.”
He nodded, sobering slightly. “He is. We may have… influenced him into inviting them in order to give certain people more access. His sister did not wish to do so, and he would have acceded to her wishes had Colonel Fitzwilliam and I not… intervened.”
Elizabeth frowned. “Does he give way to his sister often?”
“I am afraid so.”
She bit her lip, drawing his gaze to her mouth. “That does not bode well for my sister’s future happiness. Jane is so good and giving, and if her husband does not protect her, she will allow herself to be walked all over.”
He grimaced. “Perhaps several hints to him would not amiss. Colonel Fitzwilliam and I will do what we can to assist in the matter.”
“Thank you. I appreciate your care over my sister.”
“She is to be my sister soon, as well. I would be remiss if I did not do what I could to secure her happiness.”
Elizabeth gave him a brilliant smile, and joy filled his chest. Then she asked, “Did Mr. Wickham accompany his fellow officers?”
“He is.”
“Do you think he holds up well under the present scrutiny?”
Darcy’s eyes flicked briefly across the room, toward the back where the officers stood talking amongst themselves. “I have not had much opportunity to speak with him—he and I are meant to behave as if we still bear a grudge. But from what I can observe, he plays his part well.”
“I hope it is not too hard for him.”
“Strangely,” Darcy said, his voice gentling, “I believe he feels some purpose in it. And I have you to thank for helping us find a resolution. I owe you more than I can say.”
Her lips parted, but she said nothing—only held his gaze for a long, quiet moment.
The music slowed.
With great reluctance, Darcy stepped back and extended his arm to escort her from the floor. As they walked, she whispered, “I am quite amazed, sir. You did not cough once during our dance.”
His brow rose in amazement, and he placed his hand over hers on his arm, giving a gentle squeeze. As they approached a group of chairs, Colonel Fitzwilliam appeared, Miss Bingley clinging to his side after their own dance. He offered Darcy and Elizabeth an easy bow. “You two dance splendidly.”
“Thank you,” Elizabeth said, paying no attention Miss Bingley’s quiet snort of disgust. “You do as well.”
“It is my turn, I believe, in a few minutes,” the colonel said, also ignoring the woman smoldering with resentment at his side.
