Miss Ashford’s smile did not quite falter. “But surely one must participate at least occasionally?”
“One must,” he agreed. “When suitably inclined.”
Caroline’s expression sharpened almost imperceptibly.
“And you are not inclined?” she asked, sweetness carefully applied.
Darcy’s gaze returned briefly to the dance floor. “Not at present.” It was precisely the tone he used when pressed: civil, unassailable, and entirely discouraging.
Miss Ashford closed her fan. “How very particular.”
“I endeavour to be,” he replied.
Caroline laughed lightly to smooth what could not be undone. “Mr. Darcy is most discriminating.”
“I prefer not to fatigue myself unnecessarily,” he said, with the faintest inclination of the head. It was dismissal – courteous, unmistakable.
Miss Ashford withdrew soon after, pleading the necessity of securing a less philosophical partner.
Caroline remained.
“You did not think her agreeable?” she asked quietly.
“I am sure she is very much so.”
“But not sufficiently?”
Darcy met her gaze without apology. “I have no wish to dance.”
Across the room, Elizabeth and Lydia concluded their set amid laughter.
Caroline followed his line of sight – and understood.
Her smile did not alter. Only her eyes cooled.
Chapter 11
A Turn of the Evening
Elizabeth had scarcely rejoined the edge of the room when Charlotte Lucas claimed her.
“You appear quite victorious,” Charlotte observed, amused. “Your sister looked as though she meant to conquer the entire assembly.”
“She nearly did,” Elizabeth replied. “I consider it a mercy that no officer was trampled.”
Charlotte smiled, but her gaze drifted beyond Elizabeth’s shoulder.
“You are about to be engaged again.”
Elizabeth did not need to turn to know who approached. She felt it first – that curious shift in the air, as though attention gathered and stilled.
“Miss Elizabeth.”
She faced him.
There was no stiffness in his bow tonight. No studied reserve. Only composure.
“Mr. Darcy.”
