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Bates stared at the Bath chair, then at the wolfhounds, attempting to calculate the safest route.

Miss Elizabeth adjusted her grip on the cue. “I shall attempt the shot now, Mr Darcy.”

She leaned over the table, conscious of her audience. She drew the cue back and thrust it forward with too much force.

The wooden tip struck the bottom edge of the cue ball.

Crack!

The white ivory sphere launched off like a cannonball. It flew through the air, clearing the railing.

Apollo and Diana, who had been dozing peacefully near Mr Gardiner’s wheels, snapped to attention, their heads whipping around at the small, round flying object. Prey.

The two wolfhounds erupted into motion, barking furiously, their claws scrambling for purchase against the floor.

The cue ball hit the carpet, bouncing.

Apollo lunged for the ball. Diana lunged for the ball.

Their trajectory intersected with the shuffling path of the footman.

“The hounds!” Bates shrieked, abandoning all of Martin’s instructions regarding smooth, gliding steps, and attempting to pivot in order to avoid the incoming wall of fur. His long legs tangled together. The silver tray tipped precipitously to the left and the three glasses slid on the polished metal.

“Bates!” Martin roared.

The glasses tipped over the edge and hit the floor with a deafening crash, shattering into a thousand glittering shards. A wave of orgeat covered the expensive rug.

Bates, unbalanced by the loss of his cargo and actively dodging a snapping wolfhound, fell backwards, his arms windmilling. He slammed into the back of Mr Gardiner’s Bath chair.

The chair, its brakes still unlocked after Mr Gardiner’s retreat from the table, lurched forward.

“Tally ho!” Mr Gardiner shouted, gripping the armrests as he rolled away from the billiards table, propelled by the force of the falling footman.

Apollo scrambled after the rolling cue ball, sliding on the orgeat-slicked rug and crashing into the sideboard. Diana decided the Bath chair was a much more interesting target, abandoning the ball and chasing Mr Gardiner, barking at the turning wheels.

Martin lunged forward, attempting to catch the rolling chair, but slipped on the spilled milky liquid, landing on his immaculate coattails with an undignified grunt.

Miss Elizabeth gasped, dropping her cue.

A stray billiard ball—dislodged from the table when Bates collided with the frame—rolled to the edge, heading for her foot.

“Miss Elizabeth, step back!” Darcy called.

She retreated from the table just as the ivory ball fell, striking the floor where her foot had been a moment before. Darcy moved to the clear space beside the wood panelling, and she joined him there while the hounds scrambled everywhere.

The Bath chair collided with an armchair, jarring to a halt. Mr Gardiner threw his arms into the air, laughing uproariously. “What a ride! Bring me another cue!”

Bates lay sprawled on his back amidst the ruin, staring blindly at the painted ceiling. “I am a dead man. Fletcher will bury me in the cellars.”

Martin picked himself up, his face a mask of murderous fury. “Bates. You will report to the kitchens. You will remain there until the end of days.”

Darcy stood beside Miss Elizabeth, his body trembling with the shock of it. She stared at the shattered crystal, the groaning butler, and her uncle cheering from the far side of the room.

She turned to him, her curls knocked askew, and began to laugh.

Darcy tried to summon a suitable expression of concern for his ruined billiards room. A rumbling chuckle escaped him instead, and Miss Elizabeth’s laughter grew louder. Georgiana and Mrs Gardiner joined them.

Darcy’s heart soared with unwavering certainty. He loved it. He loved the noise. He loved her with a ferocity that defied all reason and logic.