“Not in the least,” she answered lightly. “I find good company revives me.”
He inclined his head with something like gratitude. “I am glad of it.”
Elizabeth turned crisply at the end of the line, letting her gown swish about her ankles, feeling the music in her blood. Darcy matched her step for step, his posture impeccable, but his eyes never left hers for long.
As they rejoined in the center, she teased softly: “You have improved since the previous dance, sir.”
He lifted a brow, feigning gravity. “Indeed?”
“Considerably,” she affirmed.
He bent a little closer in the turn. “Your generosity does you credit, Miss Elizabeth.”
She felt her heart skip at the faint smile he allowed himself.
They circled one another in perfect time. The music quickened, but neither stumbled. His hand found hers at exactly the right moment—no fumbling, no hesitation—and when their palms pressed together, Elizabeth felt a strange heat travel up her arm.
The set called for them to separate, facing one another down the line. Darcy’s gaze tracked her all the way. She lifted her chinin playful challenge. He answered with a subtle narrowing of his eyes, as if in promise.
They met again, hands joined for the promenade. Elizabeth felt the firm guidance of his touch, steady but respectful. She found herself relaxing into it.
“I must confess,” Darcy said, his voice pitched only for her, “this is the most enjoyable set I have danced in recent memory.”
Elizabeth let her eyes crinkle with mischief. “Your memory can’t be very long, sir.”
He gave a small, genuine laugh that made her blink in surprise.
They turned once more, steps sure and elegant. Around them, other dancers fell in and out of step, some laughing, some scolding partners gently. But they moved together as if they had practiced it a hundred times.
Elizabeth realised, almost unwillingly, that they suited perfectly.
When the dance ended, there was applause. Couples curtseyed and bowed. Darcy’s bow to her was deep, his eyes steady, his mouth curved just enough to be called a smile.
Elizabeth sank into her curtsey with flushed cheeks and a flutter in her chest she told herself was merely exertion.
They straightened together, hands parting reluctantly. For a moment neither spoke, the din of conversation surging around them like the sea around an island.
Darcy inclined his head at last. “Thank you, Miss Elizabeth.”
Her lips parted on a breath. “Thank you, Mr. Darcy.”
They did not immediately move away.
She found she could not look away from his eyes.
And for a heartbeat, neither seemed willing to break the spell.
***
The applause ebbed, replaced by the happy murmur of guests finding new partners, greeting neighbours, and calling for punch. Elizabeth slowly lowered her eyes, her heart still beating too quickly for dignity.
Darcy cleared his throat softly. “Miss Elizabeth,” he began, his voice lower, more careful now that the music had stopped, “you dance most gracefully.”
She felt her lips twitch at the slight emphasis. “You are too obliging, sir. I can only hope you did not find the set too fatiguing.”
He hesitated, and she caught the flicker of dry amusement in his eyes. “I believe I shall recover.”
Elizabeth almost laughed. Almost. She felt strangely unsteady, though her feet were quite firm on the floor.
