Page 81 of The Lost Prophecy

Wickham claimed Miss Lydia for the next set. She laughed before he spoke, laughed again after he did, and spent most of the dance ensuring that every other girl witnessed her triumph. Miss Kitty watched from the edge until Carter invited her, but Wickham secured her for the following set before she had finished the present one.

The arrangement served his purpose. Both younger Bennet sisters would now defend him against any public accusation, and every observer saw only a charming officer distributing his notice generously.

Darcy was at the ballroom’s edge. Standing apart attracted no comment because the county already believed him proud, and pride offered excellent concealment for a watchful eye. He watched Wickham flatter Miss Lydia, Bingley forget the steps whenever Miss Bennet spoke and Collins plant his stick in progressively more dangerous locations.

Nothing failed.

The success lasted long enough to become ominous.

When Wickham began his dance with Miss Kitty, Darcy approached Miss Elizabeth. She stood beside Miss Lucas, her fan looped at her wrist and open in her right hand, one slipper resting lightly against the floor after Collins’s assault.

“Has your cousin disabled you?”

“Not really, but my left foot may never again trust a clergyman.”

Darcy bowed. “Will you dance with me?”

She placed her hand near his without touching it. “Is this part of the plan?”

“No.”

“Then I accept.”

The warmth of her fingers entered his as they joined the set. Darcy had held her hand before learning what moved under her skin, but knowledge had altered every sensation. Her pulse travelled through his palm, living and swift, while the scent of the True Blood gathered around them. He governed his hunger, kept his grip light, and refused to consider the exposed curve of her throat.

Miss Elizabeth noticed all three efforts.

“You may breathe, Mr Darcy. Mr Bingley assures me it is polite.”

Darcy drew air into his lungs because he was always polite. “Bingley’s standards alter in the presence of your sister.”

“He has become almost human.”

“He would consider that a compliment.”

“And you?”

The question carried more than banter. Darcy guided her through the turn, allowing another couple to pass before responding.

“I would consider it a gift.”

Her expression changed, but the dance separated them before she could pursue the admission. When the figure returned her to him, she had restored her composure.

“Mr Wickham has watched us since the music began.”

“I know.”

“He may approach me after this set.”

“If he requests a dance, you are under no obligation to accept.”

“I agreed to draw him into action.”

“You agreed to assist. You did not surrender the right to alter the terms.”

Miss Elizabeth closed her fan briefly, then moved it in her right hand, looping the ribbon securely.

Darcy followed the movement with his eyes. “If he proposes a private conversation, you close this and move it to your left hand. Miss Lucas summons Mr Collins, and you do not leave the ballroom without them.”