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Just to keep her torturous sensibilities at bay, she did not look into his eyes. What was it about this man, which caused her every ill thought attributable to him to flee whenever they were within five inches of each other? Close enough that she might reach up and touch his face or even his soft hair should see wish it. Elizabeth prudently shook off her foolish musings. Mr. Darcy had but one purpose in attending her so diligently—to find fault in her and cause a chasm between his sister and her.

The dance began and within seconds, they were waltzing around the room. What natural grace he possessed—a truth which pleased her exceedingly. His dexterity should not have come as a surprise at all—not when she considered his manner of comportment and ever-present air of dignity. Surely everything this man does, he does with grace. They spent the first half moving through the dance in silence. Elizabeth feared he intended to pass the entire dance in his usual taciturn manner. She loved to dance, and she especially loved the waltz. Never before did she have an opportunity to partner with a gentleman, for she and her eldest sister, Jane, had taken it upon themselves to master the infamous dance together. She meant to enjoy it, even if she did not enjoy her companion.

“I love this dance.”

“Indeed.”

She hazarded a look into his eyes. Must he always stare? As close as they were, he looked at her with far more intimacy than she was comfortable. Does he mean to intimidate me?

“For one who does not profess liking to dance, I must say you dance exceedingly well, Mr. Darcy.”

He frowned at her, yet remained silent as they made their way down the room.

After a pause that seemed an eternity, Elizabeth endeavoured once again to entice him to speak. “You might at least pretend to enjoy this dance, Mr. Darcy. I did not ask you to dance after all. You asked me. By your scowling mien, one might suppose you consider it a burden.”

“Forgive me, Miss Elizabeth, but I supposed you were taunting me just then in complimenting my ballroom prowess.”

“Are you not to be laughed at, Mr. Darcy?”

“I find it hard to forgive the folly of others, especially when it is exercised at my expense.”

“Then you will have no quarrel with me, sir, for I meant it as a compliment.”

With that, Elizabeth noticed what looked to be a hint of a smile grace his lips.

“I must confess that I am amazed at your prowess as well. Where did you learn to waltz?”

Elizabeth looked at him squarely. “Do you suppose the inhabitants of Meryton have yet to master the finer arts of town, Mr. Darcy?”

“Actually, I do—then of course, you cannot always have been of Meryton.”

Not about to confess that Jane had been her sole dance partner, she said, “I am sorry to disappoint you, sir, but I did indeed learn to waltz in Meryton. Now, hate me if you dare.”

His hand on her waist tightened ever so softly—tenderly akin to a gentle caress. “I could never hate you, Miss Elizabeth.”

Elizabeth swallowed. Gone was the sternness in his voice—replaced by the melody she had come to appreciate during unguarded moments. She knew not what to say, so she said nothing. Silence ensued, and she began to feel as though it had filled the room to the point that it was only the two of them. A bewildering mixture of emotions engulfed her senses when the music ended, and he escorted her back to sit with his aunt. A strange sense of loss flooded her being as she watched him disappear into the crowd. It was the last she saw of him that evening.

From an advantageous view that he had claimed for himself on the balcony overlooking the ballroom floor, Darcy watched as one gentleman after another approached Elizabeth to claim her hand. What on earth had he been thinking in dancing a waltz with her? True, he had thwarted Lord Davenport’s intentions, but not without some cost to his own sensibilities.

Holding her in his arms, touching her, practically caressing her, had unleashed a yearning the likes of which he never dreamed was possible. Reason had won out over desire as he repressed the urge to take her hand in his and lead her from the ballroom for a midnight stroll in the Richardson’s garden. It would not do.

Did she have any idea the devastating effect of her teasing smile on his gentlemanly sensibilities? Thank heavens his annual trip to Kent was nigh. As long as she was around, he would know no peace. I might spend the rest of the Season in Kent. Surely by the time I come back, she will have returned to Hertfordshire.

Yes, time and distance away from her is just the thing I need.

Darcy’s solitude was abruptly interrupted when a piercing voice accosted him. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end. He would have recognised her fragrance from a mile off.

“Mr. Darcy, there you are. I have been looking everywhere for you this evening.”

The intimacy hinted by her voice gave him a shudder. “You have found me.”

“Of course, I did see you earlier. You were dancing with Miss Eliza Bennet. What a burden it must have been for you to share a waltz with a country nobody. I suppose Miss Darcy cajoled you into requesting Eliza Bennet’s hand for a set. I do recall her boasting of her acquaintance with your dear, dear sister. I supposed she was enjoying a bit of latitude with the truth.”

Having lost sight of Elizabeth amidst a sea of fine gowns, he turned and faced his companion. “I had not expected to see you here, Miss Bingley. I supposed you were in Hertfordshire.”

“And forego the entirety of the Season? Heaven forbid that I shall ever consider such a dreadful prospect. I have left Charles to his own devices in the country and returned to town with my sister.” She crossed her arms. “Mind you, Mr. Darcy, I have yet to forgive you for abandoning me to the wilds of Hertfordshire amongst those savages. Why on earth have you not responded to my repeated pleas to return and help my brother see reason as regards those conniving Bennets?”

“Your brother is a grown man. I expressed my objections to his alliance. He is determined to decide his own course in life.”