Page 12 of Twice Chosen

Bingley appeared. "What did you do?"

Darcy stared. "What?"

"Miss Elizabeth looked at you as though you had whispered a state secret."

"I asked her to dance."

"Yes. I saw." Bingley's eyes narrowed with delighted suspicion. "You hate dancing."

"I do not hate dancing."

Bingley laughed. "Who are you?"

Darcy looked across the room. Elizabeth was talking to Charlotte Lucas. She glanced up. Their eyes met again.

She smiled.

Not flirtatiously.

Knowingly.

Could she?

No.

He needed proof.

The dance began. Darcy approached and Elizabeth placed her hand in his. They joined the set. For the first figure neither spoke, but Elizabeth's eyes held dangerous amusement. Darcy knew that expression. It had preceded thousands of provocations.

"Are you enjoying Hertfordshire?" she asked.

"More than expected."

"That sounds almost complimentary."

"It was intended to be."

"Then you have already surprised me."

He swallowed. "Have I?"

"Yes."

"You were expecting something else?"

Elizabeth looked toward Bingley, then back. "For you to stand against a wall and offend someone."

Darcy missed a step.

Elizabeth's hand tightened. "Careful."

It was precisely the tone she had used when he was seventy-two and stumbled on the Pemberley terrace.

Darcy stared.

Elizabeth realized what she had done. Her smile disappeared.

They completed the figure in silence.