Chapter Seven
The realization startled him into missing a step, which provoked a glare from Caroline.
He had met hundreds of beautiful, rich, and accomplished women—none of whom had claimed anything above a slight talent for magic.
Not one of them had done anything nearly as scandalous as applying to the Academy.
They all had perfectly respectable, well-connected families.
And he had remained unmoved by them all.
In fact, he had surmised that he was incapable of love and settling for Caroline was the most rational choice.
Now this iconoclastic daughter of an impoverished country gentleman had knocked Darcy flat on his back—without any effort. What a terrible time to realize it.
He could easily envision himself paying court to Elizabeth, but it was a fever dream, a fantasy.
I am promised to another. I will not be forsworn.
He had a contract. In fact, he had a contract with Bingley, his best friend.
He was obliged—by bonds of friendship as well as honor—to abide by it.
He had given his word as a Darcy, and that meant something to him. Meant everything, in fact.
He shoved aside wayward fantasies of wooing Elizabeth. Kissing Elizabeth. Holding Elizabeth. He would not imagine such things. He could not.
Their party would depart from Netherfield soon, and he would likely never encounter her again. The mere thought opened a gaping hole in his chest. Who would imagine a man could even dance with such emptiness inside him? By rights I should not even be capable of standing.
If thinking about losing her leaves me so empty, what effect would the actuality have on me?
Darcy had a sudden urge to get very, very foxed; perhaps he could schedule that for later in the evening.
He reminded himself why he was marrying Caroline.
She was an accomplished hostess. She was acquainted with all the right people in the ton and the Convocation.
His father had liked her, and Darcy had always trusted his father’s judgment.
Perhaps Darcy did not love Caroline, but she was precisely the right woman for a man of his standing.
They would leave Hertfordshire once this goblin business was completed. They would stand up in church and recite vows. He would smile at her, and she would never know his heart had been touched by another woman.
He practiced smiling at her now, apprehensive that it appeared rather forced. But Caroline returned the gesture with a smile showing all her teeth.
“We really should set a date for our nuptials.” Her innocent words further ripped at the hole in Darcy’s chest, and he continued dancing only through an effort of will.
She was absolutely correct that he could not possibly delay forever.
“Perhaps in the autumn?” he suggested. “That should allow sufficient time to make preparations.”
Caroline pouted. “The preparations have been made. Perhaps around Easter? A spring wedding would be lovely.”
Panic caused his heart to race. “I will consider it.”
“Excellent.”
At least their union would please someone.
They fell silent after that. The dance seemed interminable, but eventually Darcy found himself escorting Caroline from the dance floor.
Once the second set had passed, he would be free to dance with Elizabeth.
Fortunately, the butler took Caroline off to the dining room with a question about the champagne.
Finally, Darcy glimpsed Elizabeth leaving the dance floor. Collins had a possessive hand on the small of her back and she appeared quite uncomfortable. Darcy wasted no time. The moment he arrived that avaricious fool would cease touching her.
Did he imagine the relief on Elizabeth’s countenance when he approached? Of course, she would most likely be relieved to encounter any man aside from Collins. She smiled and obligingly took his arm as he led her to the dance floor.
Darcy was suffused with happiness as they faced each other, waiting for the dance to begin. If only he could suspend this moment in time, live in it forever. The moment when Elizabeth was his and smiling at him with genuine warmth in her fine eyes.
Perhaps that was the path to happiness. I will push Caroline and the future from my mind. I will just take pleasure in this time with Elizabeth.
He lost himself in the steps of the dance, the intricate movement of his feet, the slide of his hand in and out of Elizabeth’s grasp. The rise of color in her cheeks. He reveled in the exertion, his partner’s smile, the rise and fall of the music.
Unlike with Caroline, they did not speak much.
Elizabeth appeared just as interested as he was in sinking into the dance and enjoying the moment.
The steps of this dance did not call for any magic, and Darcy was briefly disappointed he could not display his expertise.
The dance was over far too quickly, and he was bowing to Elizabeth.
He was not ready to relinquish the balm of her presence, the serenity he experienced with her.
Experiencing a grasping need to extend his time with her, he suggested a visit to the terrace so they might enjoy cooler air. She agreed readily, causing him undue elation.
He could not prevent himself from touching her back lightly with his fingertips as if she needed his guidance to find the French doors. If only he could be the person with permission to touch her—not just on her back but everywhere.
The outside air was cool but still warmer than expected for the time of year.
The chill in the air meant that the terrace was sparsely populated, and Elizabeth strode to the corner furthest from the few guests who lingered outdoors.
Darcy followed, feeling honored. She had not accompanied Collins to the terrace.
“I am pleased at the opportunity to speak with you privately.” Her voice was low, words intended only for his ears. He could not help noticing the way the moonlight reflected in her eyes.
Darcy struggled to check his wayward imagination. She did not come here for an assignation.
“I am in possession of all the ingredients save one,” she said with a proud smile. “I need a juniper berry, and then all will be prepared for the containment spell.”
Yes. The spell. Summoning a goblin. Oakham Mount. Darcy dragged his thoughts back to the matter that should be his greatest concern. Goblin attacks were effective at throwing a bucket of cold water on his ardor.
“Will you be ready by the end of the week?” she asked.
“The spell is complex,” he said. That was not a lie. “But I believe so.” He had no desire to place her in danger. But if he did not honor his promise, she would do it without him. She was desperate and reckless enough.
She regarded him for a long moment, her teeth worrying her bottom lip. Why is the sight so compelling to me?
Goblin. Summoning. Spells. He said the first thing that came to his mind. “How will we compel the goblin to speak with us?”
She wrinkled her nose. “Wyndham used a suasion spell on the creature. But I have no intention—”
“Suasion spells are illegal,” Darcy said quickly, “if you could find one. They were all destroyed by the Convocation.” Suasion was a violation of another person’s mind, a subversion of their will. One of the greatest crimes a mage could commit.
“Yes, I know,” she said sharply. “I do not want to use it. I was about to suggest that we could simply ask the goblin to speak with us.”
“Ah. That…might work.”
He sidled a little closer to her. She smelled so…tantalizing—a faint rosewater scent.
Goblins. Summoning. Spells. He took a deep breath, willing his body to cooperate. “I must warn you again that what we are planning is exceedingly dangerous. I do not want you to get injured.”
She met his gaze, smiling gently. “I am certain you will make it as safe as possible.”
Undoubtedly she did not intend for her words to sound seductive, but the simple statement of faith caused him to lean closer to her, wanting to be as near as possible to the person who made him feel so…cherished. “I appreciate your faith in me.”
She moved infinitesimally closer. “I have no reason to doubt you.”
Tenderness, pride, and love mingled together, welling up in Darcy’s throat and strangling his voice. What could he possibly say in the face of such trust?
A new tune wafted from the open French doors at the other end of the terrace. Elizabeth turned her head toward the ballroom. “Is that ‘The Wizard’s Duel?’”
“Yes. Would you like to join me for another set?” The dance was new and somewhat scandalous. It was the last dance he should perform with Elizabeth, but he could deny her nothing.
She gave him a sad smile. “I never learned it. My father considers it…inappropriate.”
Darcy glanced around the terrace. It was quite spacious, and they were now alone. With no windows at this end of the terrace, nobody in the ballroom could observe them. “I would be happy to teach you.” He gave her a very precise bow.
A startled, grateful smile was his reward. After a moment, she remembered to curtsey.
He took her hands in his, holding them in the correct position. “One hand is clasped so and the other outstretched. We move in a circular direction, and occasionally I will twirl you and lift you briefly from the ground.”
“What fun!”
“This is the basic step.” He demonstrated the three-part step and the circular motion. “Shall we attempt it together?”
Elizabeth allowed him to slowly guide her in a circle. As in the ballroom, they found an easy rhythm immediately. It was startingly easy to imagine kissing her, taking her to his bed. That dance would be effortless as well.
When it came time to twirl, Darcy wrapped the ether around Elizabeth, levitating her and spinning her slowly.
She shrieked with glee and demanded, “Again!” Darcy was helpless to deny her anything.
He spun her around twice, three times, each time a little higher until she was nearly four feet from the floor.
She laughed each time, delighted and carefree.