His expression was grave, and a tremor passed through her.
Was he regretting her? Was he suddenly realizing how very far beneath him she truly stood? The milkmaid dressed in heavy silk and jewels to deceive the members of his class?
Her hand rose instinctively to her bosom, brushing the elegant diamond necklace he had brought to her and fastened there with his own hands. His eyes had been intent while fastening it about her throat, and she had flushed beneath the heat of his regard.
Now his gaze followed her hand to her décolletage, and at once he relaxed.
“Do you like it, Elizabeth?” he whispered.
Her eyes sparkled with amusement. “Like it, sir? I love it. It is the most beautiful thing I have ever worn.”
His smile filled her with warmth.
She had pleased him.
She felt his hand glide lightly along her wrist, and warmth stirred low in her belly before rising upward through her chest,her throat, and into her cheeks. He was watching her closely, and his eyes gleamed with satisfaction when he saw her blush.
He was no longer the grave, reticent man she had feared moments earlier. He was the man who longed for her just as keenly as she longed for him.
Gladness brightened her face, and then Lady Helen moved farther along the receiving line. After they were introduced to Lord Harcourt and Lady Sophia, they followed Lady Helen into the ballroom.
Elizabeth was struck by the beauty of the golden glow cast by a thousand candles, the countless potted trees and flowering plants, and the delicate netting festooned about the musicians’ gallery. Her gaze wandered over every detail, though she took great care not to stare nor betray how wondrous she found her surroundings.
Mr. Butler had repeatedly warned them never to gape at the splendor of society functions like unsophisticated provincials, and so she remained silent beside Lady Helen, behaving as though such magnificence were perfectly commonplace.
Lady Helen turned toward her nephew.
“Fitzwilliam, under no circumstances are you to dance with Elizabeth or with any other lady. Remember that you remain in mourning for a close relation. Your black evening clothes become you exceedingly well, nephew. I only hope you do not attract too much feminine attention looking so dangerously handsome.”
“Aunt Helen, between your dark lavender gown trimmed with black lace and my mourning attire, I believe myself reasonably protected from scheming mammas intent upon shackling me totheir daughters. And if Elizabeth remains at my side, I believe I am entirely shielded.”
Sir Gareth approached with Jane upon his arm, and the two sisters exchanged a kiss.
“Jane, my dear, you look stunning.”
Sir Gareth grinned and bent to whisper in his wife’s ear, “And you are entirely mine, as amiable as you are lovely.”
Jane pressed lightly against the arm she held. “Sir, you shall be overheard.”
“And what of it, Lady Beaumont? I speak only the truth.”
She lifted her face to meet his eyes. “Gareth, you are excessively kind…”
Elizabeth stifled a giggle behind her gloved hand. “Newlyweds…”
Beaumont smiled. “We are difficult company, are we not?”
At that moment, Lord Dunwich approached the Countess.
Bowing low, he said, “Lady Helen, might I beg an introduction to your young friend?”
Elizabeth was startled to see Lady Helen’s brow narrow into a frown. She was displeased.
Her eyes darted toward Mr. Darcy, whose expression had darkened into a scowl. She then looked toward Sir Gareth and saw that he, too, appeared angry.
Something was very wrong, though she could not imagine what it might be.
Lady Helen said coolly, “Lord Dunwich, this is my nephew’s betrothed, Miss Bennet. She and Fitzwilliam had been set tomarry in November, but owing to the unexpected passing of Lady Catherine, the wedding has necessarily been delayed.”
