“Yes, here I am,” Caroline replied, as neutrally as she could manage.
“Shall we have a dance?”
“Very well.”
He cocked an eyebrow at her cool tone. She looked away as he offered his arm, but she took it and allowed him to lead her to the dance floor.
Colonel Fitzwilliam had not left the ballroom after his dances with Elizabeth and Georgiana, but had instead stayed to watch the dancers. If he spent more time looking at Miss Bingley than any of the other attendees, he did not think about it. But he did happen to be looking at Miss Bingley as Lord Russell led her to the dance floor.
His cousin materialised beside him. “Say, Darcy who is that?”
“Who is who?”
“The gentleman about to dance with Miss Bingley.”
Mr. Darcy made a sour face. “That is the Baron de Clifford, Lord Russell.”
“Oh! The one who is hoping to marry an heiress in order to pay his gambling debts?”
“The very one.”
“He is after Miss Bingley’s dowry.”
“Without a doubt, but I believe Bingley warned her away from him.”
“Good.”
The two cousins watched Lord Russell and Miss Bingley for a few minutes. Then, to their surprise, they saw him lead her off the dance floor.
“Where are they going?” the Colonel asked.
“I do not know; perhaps she has told him that she is tired and wishes to rest.”
But it looked now as if Miss Bingley was being propelled with some force. The Colonel started forward, but Mr. Darcy put a hand on his arm. “Be careful, Richard. Do not make any sort of show here at Almack’s or you’ll find yourself married to the girl before you can blink.”
The Colonel nodded his understanding and then moved, as quickly as he dared so as not to attract attention, to where he had last seen Miss Bingley and Lord Russell. But they seemed to have vanished. Then he heard something behind the draperies. A voice? A woman’s voice, whispering with some urgency?
The Colonel groaned. Either he was about to make the worst mistake of his life by interrupting a courting couple, or he was going to stop an attempted compromise. He opened the drapery just a fraction of an inch and saw Miss Bingley struggling in the arms of Lord Russell.
The gentleman looked up at the Colonel with rage on his face, but the Colonel merely said, rather lazily, “I do hope I am not interrupting anything.”
Miss Bingley gasped out, “Oh, Colonel, please help me!”
Lord Russell smirked at her. “If you make so much as a move, Miss Bingley, I shall throw the draperies open and let everyone see you.”
Indeed, she would present quite a picture; her hair was down, pins askew, and her bodice had been tugged down to a rather indecent level.
“Lord Russell, we have not been introduced. I am Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam, and if you do not release the lady at once and allow her to repair her appearance, I shall call you out. I assure you that I am a crack shot and an accomplished swordsman; it is unlikely you would survive our encounter.”
There was a tense moment while Lord Russell eyed the Colonel up and down. Finally, with a muttered curse, Lord Russell released Miss Bingley. White-faced but dry-eyed, she put her hair up as well as she was able and tugged her dress back into place.
“Miss Bingley,” the Colonel said, offering his hand to her. “Walk to that chair, just in front of the drapery, and then sit down.”
He had his back to the assembly room, and adroitly shielded Miss Bingley as she made her way to the chair he indicated, and then she sat, rather heavily. The Colonel immediately sat beside her. It looked for all the world as if he had been speaking to her while she was sitting.
“I cannot thank you enough, Colonel. That dreadful man! How did you know?”
“I happened to be looking in your direction when you were dancing with him. Darcy told me who he was, and then when he all but dragged you off the dance floor, I knew he was up to some devilment.”
