Darcy and Deception

Lydia stamped her foot and scowled. “Very well! I am certain Denny will be happy to dance this set with me.” Flouncing over to the other officer, she practically thrust her hand into his. More than a little besotted with Lydia, Denny beamed at her drunkenly until she sighed in exasperation and pulled him toward the dancers.

“I apologize for Lydia’s inappropriate behavior,” Elizabeth said to Mr. Wickham, not needing to feign her embarrassment.

The man straightened the cuff of his coat. “That is quite all right.” He flashed her a grin full of white teeth. His obvious enjoyment of the spectacle made Elizabeth feel a little queasy. “Shall we join the set?”

As he led her to the dance floor, Elizabeth reflected that never before had she won a contest when she had so little desire for the prize.

***

An hour later, Elizabeth had finished the second of her two obligatory dance sets with Mr. Wickham—devoutly wishing she could also be relieved of the burden of pretending an interest in his company. She had paced the edges of the ballroom while he danced with Lydia, unable to leave her sister unsupervised. When Elizabeth joined the pair immediately after the conclusion of the set, Lydia pouted. Elizabeth feared the onset of another tug-of-Wickham, but upon discovering a tear in one of her flounces, Lydia hastened to the ladies’ retiring room.

Expressing an interest in lemonade won her a brief reprieve from Mr. Wickham’s presence, but he reappeared all too soon, deftly juggling two full glasses. He handed one to her with a smile that was no doubt intended to be alluring. “Your wish is my command, my lady.”

“You are all that is gracious,” Elizabeth responded, avoiding any touch of his fingers as she took her glass.

His smile transformed into a smirk. “Would that I could have another dance with you.”

She tried to appear coy. “That would occasion too much talk.”

He took a step toward her, standing closer than was entirely appropriate. “Let them talk about us.” His breath ghosted over her face, and she closed her eyes lest her disgust register on her countenance.

Remember your mission. If she was forced to spend time with the man, at least she could ensure that it was valuable. Casting a demure glance at the floor, Elizabeth stepped away from the officer. “I would prefer not to be the subject of gossip, but perhaps we might take a turn about the room?”

“Capital idea!” After transferring their lemonade glasses to a passing servant, Wickham offered his arm and led her on a stately stroll around the perimeter of the ballroom.

Elizabeth broke the silence first. “Do you have a wide acquaintance in Brighton, sir?”

Mr. Wickham flashed a smile. “Of course! I have friends wherever I go. There is my friend, Henry Knox, from my days at Cambridge. He’s hereabouts somewhere.” The officer made a vague gesture. “And Edward Plummer. I know him from Derbyshire. He and his wife were invited but could not attend.” Elizabeth tried to memorize these names. “Lord Cavendish is a friend as well.”

Elizabeth bounced on her toes. “If they are as pleasant as you, I would love to meet some of your friends!”

“No one is as pleasant as I am,” Mr. Wickham said with a devilish grin.

“To be sure.” Elizabeth laughed. “But you always discover the most amiable and amusing people wherever you are.”

The officer puffed out his chest. “Have you been introduced to Lord Cavendish?”

“A real lord?” she echoed breathlessly. “No, but I would find it most agreeable.”

Mr. Wickham’s grin was as condescending as Elizabeth could expect. “We are quite well acquainted already, having met over several games of cards.”

“I would be honored,” she breathed. Abandoning the perimeter, Mr. Wickham led her across the ballroom to the entrance where Lord and Lady Cavendish greeted new arrivals. Their guests were a varied lot, including many men in red uniforms as well as members of the local gentry and prosperous merchants. Mr. Wickham wove them through the throng until they stood at Lord Cavendish’s elbow.

“Lord Cavendish, may I present Miss Elizabeth Bennet?”

The lord eyed her like something he had found on the sole of his shoe. When his eyes drifted over Mr. Wickham, his face displayed only a vague recognition. Elizabeth hid a smirk.

“We met over cards two days ago,” Mr. Wickham prompted.

“Ah, yes, Wyndham.” Somehow the lord managed to speak while barely moving his lips, as if they were barely worth the effort of speech. Well, at least the lord was not one of Mr. Wickham’s co-conspirators.

The officer maintained his amiable smile. “Wickham.”

The lord nodded absently as his attention was drawn to the door. “If you will forgive me, I must greet my guests.” He took a step forward, smiling at the man entering the room. “Darcy, I am so pleased you could come!”

Startled, Elizabeth and Mr. Wickham simultaneously turned toward Fitzwilliam Darcy as he strolled into the ballroom, effortlessly elegant in an impeccably tailored suit of blue and gold. While the master of Pemberley exchanged pleasantries with their host, his eyes ranged over Elizabeth and Mr. Wickham, narrowing slightly when he noticed their linked arms. But he betrayed no surprise. Did he know I would be here with Mr. Wickham?

It seemed unlikely. How could he? No, his presence must be a coincidence.