She laughed. “I do, but it is very impolitic of you to bring it up. May I introduce you to my cousin, Mr. William Collins? He is my father’s heir.”
The young man bowed.
“Mr. Collins, this is Mr. John Watson. He has been away these past two years at university.”
She turned back to Mr. Watson. “I did not know you were expected home.”
He rubbed his chin. “Lizzy, Mamma forced me to return for the ball. She says Miss King has inherited ten thousand pounds, and I am to try to engage her affection.”
“You do not seem very excited about the prospect.”
His brow furrowed. “Forgive me, I have said too much, but I know you so well, I let my guard down. Please, forget that I said anything.”
“Of course, John. My lips are sealed. You may rest easy.”
He bowed. “Thank you, my dear. You have always been a gem.” He stepped away.
All of Elizabeth’s dances were taken before the music for the first set had begun. Mr. Bingley’s four friends from London had requested introductions, and each took the opportunity to ask her for a set. Now she stood quietly at her cousin’s side, waiting for the musicians to finish tuning their instruments.
Collins looked down at her. “Cousin, you are very favored tonight. Should I be jealous?”
Elizabeth turned to face him. Was he teasing again? She studied his face. In the faint shadows, his eyes looked feral. She shivered.
He chuckled. “You need not fear me, Elizabeth. I told you once before, I am no monster.”
He saw no change in her expression and continued, “I regret that I teased you when I first came to Longbourn. I fear that I gave you the wrong impression of me. I am a rector, Elizabeth. I am respectable. I expect no more from my wife than any man expects from the woman he is married to, but I was unwise to tell you what was on my mind before you knew me well enough to understand that I am no monster.”
She stared at him, trying to understand what he meant and whether he spoke the truth. Then the music began, and he led her into the line. After that, they had no opportunity to speak; the music was too loud, there were too many dancers, and the figures were complex.
Elizabeth admitted to herself that her cousin was a fine dancer and a very attractive man. He was doing his best to please her. Nevertheless, she feared him and what he would do to her once she was married and in his power. He reminded her of a wolf, wild and uncontrollable. Once again, she shivered.
Her dance with Mr. Goulding was welcome and pleasant. They had grown up together, and she felt safe with him. She asked him to escort her to her father’s side, and that was where she remained until Mr. Darcy approached for his dance.
They waited on the dance floor while the waltz began. She felt a flicker of discomfort. It must have shown on her face, for Mr. Darcy spoke.
“Do you not dance the waltz, Miss Elizabeth?”
“I do know the waltz, sir. I was only taken by surprise, that is all.”
He asked, “Would you prefer not to dance it with me?”
She looked into his dark eyes. They were fringed with dark lashes, and an unruly forelock hung over his left brow. Tonight, he appeared more the hero of a fairy tale than ever before. She answered diffidently. “No, sir, I love to dance the waltz, and I have no concerns dancing it with you. But I know that you once considered me barely tolerable, and if you prefer not to dance it with me, I understand. I would not take offense.”
His lips thinned as he clenched his jaw. “Please forget what I said before. It was untrue. As I told you once, you are among the mosthandsome women of my acquaintance, and it is my pleasure to dance this waltz with you as my partner.” He sighed. “Miss Elizabeth, I paid for the waltz because I wished to dance it with you. I hope you will be able to put that insult out of your mind at last. I did not mean it. I knew you were beautiful from the first moment I saw you.”
His response surprised Elizabeth, but before she could respond, the dance began. He placed a hand on her back, took her other hand in his, and they moved to the music. Elizabeth watched his face and thought back to the Meryton assembly, when she had first called him Sir Lancelot. His dark, handsome looks and tall, masculine frame had drawn her then, as she was being drawn to him now. She stood within his embrace and breathed in his scent of clean linen and shaving soap, and something uniquely his. The music and the man wove their spell, and she was soon lost to the dance.
He slowly drew her closer and closer until, by the end, she could feel the heat of his form as he held her in his arms. When the music stopped, they stood still, staring at one another. When she came to her senses, she was glad they had ended near a little grove of potted trees, away from the general view of onlookers. She pulled away from him, and he dropped his hand from her waist, where it had settled.
She quickly scanned the room. Her father was at the far end, talking with Sir William Lucas, and her mother sat among the other matrons, deep in conversation. She searched until she found her cousin. He was escorting Miss King back to her aunt Talbot. He probably had not seen her dancing scandalously close with Mr. Darcy. She exhaled in relief, her shoulders relaxing.
Darcy had been watching her. “Miss Elizabeth, are you afraid of your cousin?”
She forced a laugh. “Sir, pay me no mind. It is nothing.”
He looked more closely at her. “Is Mr. Collins threatening to harm you?”
“No, sir, he is not threatening to hurt me, but he is very determined to marry me, whether I like it or not, and I fear he may find a way to force me.”
