At those words, she lifted her eyes and searched the crowd. Mr. Darcy stood no more than five feet away. Emotion caught in her throat, and her eyes filled at the sight of his dear face. His mere presence had preserved her from this dangerous libertine.
Lord Dunwich said, “You need not appear as though dancing with me were a punishment.”
She remained beside him only long enough to curtsy and then withdrew. A smile touched her lips when Mr. Darcy offered his arm. He embodied everything honorable, wholesome, and gentlemanly.
“Fitzwilliam, thank you.”
His brows rose.
“Thank you.” Her voice faltered. “Thank you for stalking us.”
“Stalking you?”
“Yes. Lord Dunwich declared he would have taken me into the gardens and stolen a kiss had you not stalked us throughout the dance.”
“Darling, he sought only to provoke you. I doubt he would dare attempt such a thing. I am known for my skill with pistols.”
Her eyes clouded. “I could not endure it if you faced a gentleman upon the field, sir. Please, let us quit London and retire to Derbyshire.”
“I do not shrink from my duty, Elizabeth.”
“I know, sir, but I do. I could not endure my life without you. Why should we hazard such danger over the impertinence of an arrogant rake?”
No further opportunity for conversation presented itself, for another gentleman claimed her for the next dance.
At last, the waltz arrived, and he led her onto the floor. They stood some distance from the nearest couple.
“Do you fare better now, Mrs. Darcy?”
“Yes, sir. Every gentleman with whom I have danced has proven kind and amiable. Wholesome, sir. I could enjoy a London season were it not for the blackguard who pursues me.”
“I will keep you safe, my darling.”
The music commenced, and he took her hand in his while his other settled at her waist. She had eyes only for him and kept them fixed upon his face throughout the dance.
When it concluded, she said, “I love being held within your arms, sir. Do not laugh at me, but I feel like Cinderella at the ball, dancing at midnight with her prince.”
Pleasure lit his eyes. “I had never imagined myself cast as the prince in a beautiful lady’s fairy tale. I find I like it exceedingly well, Elizabeth.”
Her laugh held warmth and intimacy.
Then they turned to rejoin Lady Helen, and Elizabeth met the dark eyes of the man she had come to dread. He observed her like a predator studying its prey before the strike. She faltered, and Darcy, noticing it, followed her gaze. He glowered at Lord Dunwich, who answered with a smirk.
Chapter 47: The Reckoning
Darcy escorted Elizabeth to Lady Helen’s side. “Remain with Aunt Helen, darling. We will go to supper soon. I shall return for you shortly.”
He departed, and Elizabeth clasped Lady Helen’s hand.
“What is it, Elizabeth? What has occurred?”
“Lord Dunwich spoke improperly to me during our dance, and now he appears determined to provoke Fitzwilliam into a quarrel. I pray it shall not descend into fisticuffs or a duel.”
Lady Helen gasped. “So grave as that?”
“I may exaggerate matters, my lady. Perhaps I fear more than what truly passes. Perhaps Fitzwilliam intends only to warn him away and then return to us.”
The two ladies watched as Mr. Darcy approached Lord Dunwich. No words reached them, but Lord Dunwich followed Mr. Darcy from the ballroom. Elizabeth uttered a low sound of distress. “Oh, Aunt Helen, I am afraid for Fitzwilliam.”