Page 139 of Pride and Prejudice Resolutions

"How fortunate. And how even more fortunate to find you here, lurking by the refreshments, looking as though you have been lying in wait."

"I do not lurk. I observe strategically."

"From behind a potted palm?"

"The palm provided excellent cover."

Bingley laughed, the sound bright and utterly bewildered. "You two are so droll! I never understand half of what you say to each other. It is like listening to a play performed in Greek!"

"I assure you, Charles, the Colonel and I understand each other perfectly," Caroline said, her smile sharp enough to draw blood.

Before Richard could respond, a flash of movement caught his eye. Across the ballroom, near the orchestra, Colonel EdmundLindon had straightened. The man looked politely bored, until his gaze landed on Miss Bingley.

No.

Absolutely not.

Lindon began threading through the crowd, moving determinedly to secure a dance.

Richard stepped directly into Miss Bingley's line of sight, blocking her view of the approaching officer. "Miss Bingley, might I have a word? In private?"

She blinked up at him. "We are in the middle of a ballroom, Colonel. Privacy is not readily available."

"Then we shall settle for the illusion of it." He offered his arm. "Mr Bingley, you will excuse us."

Bingley waved them off, already distracted by a young woman in white muslin who possessed improbably blue eyes and all the intellectual vivacity of a porcelain doll. "Oh! Of course! By all means! I shall just… ah, there is Miss Whitmore! Lovely girl! Plays the harp, you know!"

And he was gone, trailing after the blue-eyed angel like a spaniel after a particularly slow rabbit.

Caroline placed her gloved hand on Richard's arm as if touching an eel. "I suppose subtlety is beyond you, Colonel."

"Subtlety is for men with time to waste. I am efficient." He steered her away from the centre of the ballroom, towards the relative shelter of a marble column draped in greenery. Behind them, Colonel Lindon skidded to a halt, caught Richard's glare, and promptly retreated in the opposite direction.

"Was that Colonel Lindon?" Caroline asked, craning her neck to observe the fleeing officer.

"It was. And he has urgent business elsewhere."

"He looked as though he was approaching to ask me to dance."

"He was mistaken."

Miss Bingley stopped walking, forcing him to halt or risk dragging her across the floor like a recalcitrant mule. "Mistaken? About what, precisely?"

"Your availability."

"I am perfectly available, Colonel. That is the point of attending a ball. One dances. One converses. One secures admirers and, ideally, a proposal before the Season concludes."

"Not tonight."

"I beg your pardon?"

Richard turned to face her fully, positioning them so that his broad shoulders blocked her from the worst of the crowd's scrutiny. "Your goal tonight, Miss Bingley, is not to dance."

"Then what, pray tell, is my goal? To stand here like an ornamental shrub whilst you glower at prospective suitors?"

"Your goal is to be seen. To be observed. To position yourself as a considerable pawn in the marriage mart."

She stared at him as if he had announced his intention to sprout wings and fly to the moon. "That is the most absurd strategy I have ever heard. How am I to attract a husband if I refuse to dance with eligible men?"