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"Poor Mr Darcy! How dreadful to be forced into an evening of dancing and merriment against your will. And in the company of your neighbours, too! I do hope you will recover from the experience."

"I shall endeavour to do so," he replied, and she was surprised to see the corner of his mouth lift. "Although I confess the evening has already proved more agreeable than I anticipated."

"Has it indeed? Well, I am very glad to hear it, sir. Perhaps there is hope for you yet. By the end of the evening, you may even find yourself enjoying the company of your fellow creatures."

"I should not go quite so far as that, Miss Elizabeth, but I am beginning to think that dancing has certain merits I had previously overlooked."

Elizabeth smiled, feeling rather more herself now that they had returned to familiar ground of verbal sparring. "And Hades, of all people! I must say, sir, I think it a most inspired choice. Although I had expected you to come as some great king or emperor, someone with an enormous crown and a great many unfortunate subjects to command."

"I believe Hades has subjects enough."

"Oh, certainly, but they are all dead, which must make the whole business of kingship considerably more manageable. After all, what use is disagreeing with one's ruler when one is already dead? It is hardly as though he can threaten you with anything worse."

"Ah, but if there is no threat of punishment, Miss Elizabeth, what reason would they have to obey me?"

He smiled then, a lovely, warm smile that transformed his face, and before she could stop herself, Elizabeth blurted out, "You could smile at them, sir."

His eyebrows rose in surprise, and she felt her cheeks grow warm. Good heavens, what had possessed her to say such a thing?

"I beg your pardon?"

"Your smile," she said, wishing fervently that she had kept her mouth shut. "You have a very fine smile, Mr Darcy, on the rare occasions you choose to deploy it. I dare say your subjects would be quite willing to do as you asked if you were to favour them with it now and again."

And there it was again, that dreadful smile, only wider this time. Elizabeth looked away, thoroughly annoyed with herself. She had meant to tease him, as she always did, and had managed to pay him a compliment instead.

"Well, I suppose Hades must have smiled upon Persephone on occasion," he said, the offending smile still in evidence.

Elizabeth felt her cheeks grow warmer still. Was Mr Darcy flirting with her? Surely not. And yet she was beginning to wonder whether the man beneath the mask was the same gentleman she had known at Netherfield. Perhaps the gentleman's disguise was more successful than she had realised, and it was not Mr Darcy beneath the mask at all. But no, she would recognise that fine, strong jaw anywhere, and those well-formed lips, rather fuller than was usual for a gentleman. Goodness, when had she begun paying such close attention to Mr Darcy's mouth? And why, now that she had noticed it, was she finding it so difficult to look anywhere else?

Elizabeth suddenly stumbled over her own feet, her distraction finally causing her to miss a step. Mr Darcy caught her and held her firmly against his chest, his dark eyes looking down at her with concern. She could not stand this! How could she possibly ask this man for such a favour as she must? He must already think her quite the fool.

"I apologise, sir," she said, looking anywhere but at his face.

"It is quite all right, my Persephone," he said, his voice close to her ear, and she jerked in his arms, shocked by the intimacy of it. He appeared to notice her discomfort and gently set her back to rights as they rejoined the figures of the dance.

Elizabeth moved through the remaining steps by rote, praying only for the music to end. Perhaps being married to Mr Collins would be preferable to embarrassing herself any further in front of this handsome and oddly agreeable man. As soon as the music came to a close, she gave a perfunctory curtsey and practically ran for the terrace doors, pulling them shut behind her and gulping in the cold night air.

Chapter Four

Darcy stayed rooted to the spot, couples moving around him as they sought out refreshments or returned to their parties during the break between dances. No one seemed to have noticed Elizabeth's flight from the room except himself. Miss Elizabeth, he reminded himself, although dancing with her, sparring with her and holding her close against him had been so intoxicatingly wonderful that he did not know if he would ever be able to think of her in those proper terms again.

He saw that her elder sister was well occupied with Bingley, who was chattering happily away, while her youngest sisters were laughing gaily with some redcoats in a corner. Her mother was gossiping, and her father was nowhere to be found. Had he upset her? Had he said something to cause her distress? Was she unwell? A million troubling thoughts flashed through his mind, and he could not rest easy without knowing that she was unharmed.

He followed her path towards the terrace doors, although he took a slower, more circuitous route in order to avoid attracting any unnecessary attention. Once he reached them, he hoped that his black ensemble would help him remain unseen as he opened one of the doors and slipped through, closing it gently behind him. He looked around the terrace but could see no sign of her, and his heart began to beat more urgently.

"Miss Elizabeth?"

The reply was a strangled sob from the far end of the terrace, and he followed the sound to find her weeping, her face hidden in her hands.

"Oh, please go away, Mr Darcy. I cannot bear for you to see me like this."

"You will catch your death of cold," he said gently, untying the blasted cape and removing his jacket to place it around her shoulders. "Are you well, Miss Elizabeth? Have I offended you in some way? What can I do for your comfort? Do you need to return home?"

"You are very good, sir, and much kinder than I thought you would be in such circumstances."

That stung a little, but he supposed he had given her no particular reason to think well of him. Her white silk mask had slipped sideways, and one of its ribbons was caught in her hair.

"May I?" he asked, reaching towards it. She nodded, and he gently untied the ribbons, taking care not to catch any of her curls. He placed the mask on the stone balustrade and removed his own, setting it beside hers.