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“Well, if you think ...” Richard turned to find the lady who had captured his interest standing only a few feet away, smiling shyly at him. He moved closer and bowed. “Mrs. Largin, I had hoped that you would save me a set.”

“Oh, Colonel Fitzwilliam, you should not have doubted,” the pretty woman replied. “Did I not say that I would?”

Richard held out his arm, and she placed her slim hand upon it, captivating him with her sparkling blue eyes as they moved towards the dance floor. Taking their places in line, the looks on their faces made William smile in spite of himself and his thoughts turned to the one that he missed most severely. What he would not give for Elizabeth to look at him that way!

Lost in watching Richard and the widow, it was a moment before he realised that other women had noticed that he was stripped of his guard. Looking around to see every eye following him, William began searching the room for his aunt when his gaze fell on Lady Waltham. Her come-hither look caused him to take a frustrating breath and turn to go in the opposite direction—almost running into Lady Leighton in his haste to escape.

“My goodness! Who are you fleeing, Fitzwilliam?” Jacqueline Fitzwilliam’s voice was low and seductive, her smile calculating, as her eyes danced gleefully between William and Lady Waltham.

An image of her came to William from out of the blue. Like a spider cornering a fly. Suddenly he had had enough of being polite. Not bothering to address her question, he declared haughtily, “What concern is it of yours, madam?”

“Come now? Madam? Why so formal? After all, we are cousins.” As she spoke, her jealous green eyes slowly travelled down his body and back up before coming to rest on his light blue ones. She leaned in to whisper sensually, “Care to look over the library while Edgar is dancing with his mother? There is something I would love to show you.”

William drew himself up to his full six feet, two inches, not bothering to conceal his displeasure. “I assure you, madam, there is nothing that you have that interests me!” Abruptly stepping around her, he walked away, leaving the crowd surrounding them tittering and staring.

Instead of being angry at his rejection, now Lady Leighton definitely resembled the spider William had conjured only moments before—only this spider wore a smile. This is perfect. He must still be attracted to me, or he would not be afraid to meet me alone.

Refusing to be intimidated, Jacqueline unashamedly met every eye in the circle that stood round about her, until she came to Lady Waltham’s questioning gaze and openly smirked. To that woman who dared try to gain Fitzwilliam’s attention, she nodded knowingly before heading in the direction of the refreshment table.

And that aging whore need not think she is any competition for me.

~~~*~~~

Lady Gwendolyn Waltham was elated that she had managed to attend the ball without being escorted by the count. Fortunately, he had business to attend out of Town and would be gone for another day, so she had come with friends. Count Francesco was an accomplished lover with many and varied skills, she had to admit, but she still had reservations about him. For all his talk of wealth and property, he rented a residence in Town that could not compare to Darcy House—or Matlock House, for that matter. She had been inside both of those homes and their opulence was almost beyond compare. If she were to ever marry again, this was the type of wealth to which she would aspire—old money, hopefully tucked inside a younger man’s breeches.

The count always bragged of his father’s estate in northern England and his mother’s property in Italy, but from the gossip circulating in Town, little was known that would confirm his wealth, and she was not willing to risk her future on mere speculation, even if the count was a good lover. Thus, when she learned that Fitzwilliam Darcy had returned to London and would be at the ball tonight, she knew she simply must garner an invitation to attend.

After all, Fitzwilliam was the more handsome of the two—and much younger. She was convinced that she could entice him into her bed once more and then claim she was with child. Honourable man that he was, he would, of course, insist on marriage to legitimize his heir. She smiled. This time his father would not be there to save him!

Recalling the chatter that spread throughout the ballroom when she arrived with her friends, Gwendolyn smiled. It was satisfying to know that every eye in the room had focused on her, just as when she was younger. The only difference was that she could no longer hold their interest over the course of an evening. The younger men eventually returned to the simpering debutantes and the henpecked husbands to their controlling wives. The rest—men eager for scintillating company—had once been her exclusive domain. Now she had to share them with the likes of Jacqueline Fitzwilliam.

She consoled herself with the thought that there was really only one man she deeply desired—Fitzwilliam Darcy. When she was not dancing, she stayed close by him, looking for the opportunity to speak privately. Therefore, it was with a sense of great satisfaction that she witnessed the unpleasant confrontation between Lady Leighton and William. Seeing William challenge Jacqueline, Gwendolyn had looked around.

Surely that idiot husband of Jacqueline’s saw it, too!

Running her eyes over the crowd, she found the viscount with his mother and father in a far corner, surrounded by guests. They seemed blissfully ignorant of the drama that had just played out. Annoyed, her eyes came to rest on Richard. He was engrossed in conversation with his dance partner. With the colonel occupied and Jacqueline rebuffed, this might be her only opportunity.

She began to follow her objet d’amour through the crowd, losing sight of him for a moment before catching a glimpse of his head clearing the doorway to the terrace. Quickly she made her way to the same door and, seeing no one watching, slipped out after him. There was no one on the terrace. She turned in a circle. Nothing. She was pondering the situation when a dog’s bark caught her attention, and she looked to see a dark, ghostlike figure striding across the lawn, towards a gazebo. She knew that confident stride, and so she followed.

Caught up in his thoughts, William had no idea anyone was behind him as he reached the structure. Wearily he slumped down onto one of the benches and began to rub his forehead, trying to stave off a threatening headache. There was enough moonlight to illuminate a pair of swans on the pond behind the structure, and he became engrossed in their graceful movements, oblivious to all else. The swans were performing mating rituals, their heads bobbing up and down in a dance as old as the rhythm of the sea.

“Even they realise they need a mate.”

Recognising that voice, he stood abruptly. Neither could see clearly in the shroud of the gazebo, so his scowl was not evident to Gwendolyn as she continued, “You must have seen that I was following you.”

William had to quell his temper before attempting to reply, so Gwendolyn took this as an invitation to come closer. “I take it you do not disapprove of my presence.”

Before William could move or reply, a sharp screech rang out. “Just what the devil do you think you are doing?” Lady Leighton hurried up the steps and stomped across to push herself in between William and Lady Waltham.

“I could ask you the same thing!” Lady Waltham retorted, moving to stand only inches from her rival. Face-to-face they argued.

“What right have you to follow my cousin like a common whore?”

“Whore? You call me a whore? At least I am not married! What would happen if your fool of a husband found you here?”

“You have no right to question me. What Fitzwilliam and I share is private—between family.”

“Family? Is that what you call it?”