“Well there is a shocking proclamation,” Richard said with a laugh, Darcy scowling deeper and adding a glare.

“If that is all you have noticed, then I guess I will share some of my news. Your cousin, Mr. Butler, does indeed compose music as you were told. He has agreed to play for us.”

“I hope he has some talent and avoids the morbid tunes that seem so popular among some.”

Lizzy was shaking her head. “I do not think so. He seemed a lively, humorous young man. Not somber in the least.”

Richard was still smiling at his cousin, Darcy noting the amusement with chagrin. He spoke, eyes riveted to Richard’s face, “Lord and Lady Fotherby arrived about twenty minutes ago. They headed toward the dining room.”

Richard jerked, eyes widening and mouth falling, speech halting once he found his voice. “Lord… Fotherby! How… What do you mean?”

“William, that is just cruel.” Lizzy scolded, although she was fighting not to laugh. “He means the young Lord Fotherby, Richard. No one has learned how to revitalize the dead, despite the fantastical claims in that absurd Frankenstein novel. Did you greet them properly, dearest?”

“Naturally. As abounding in warmth and amiability as I could possibly manage.” He smiled gaily at Richard, who grunted in derision. “She is lovely in a gown of pearly white with mere touches of black.”

“Ah, a bold statement indeed.” Lizzy nodded satisfactorily. “A year will soon be passed. It seems her heart is prepared to move on. Interesting.” She did not look at Colonel Fitzwilliam though, instead gazing at Darcy with a mixture of amusement at Richard’s predicament and unsettling disquiet at the mere concept of continuing life without her husband. He smiled tenderly, reassuring with a firm squeeze to her hand.

“I deem it only proper for you to welcome the new Lord Fotherby to Darcy House as well, Mistress Darcy. Care to join us, Colonel?”

Richard swallowed and nodded, Darcy pivoting quickly to hide his grin.

The former Lady Simone Halifax, now the widowed Most Honorable Marchioness of Fotherby, stood at the edge of the ballroom dancing area. Numerous guests lined the walls, standing and sitting, dancing partners interchanged and mingled, conversation ebbed and flowed. Lady Fotherby was flanked by her paternal uncle and aunt, Lord and Lady Francis-Nall, and her stepson, the new Lord Fotherby. The sixteen-year-old 9th Marquis of Fotherby, 12th Baron of Armsbury was a slight youth no taller than his stepmother, fair haired with a sallow complexion. He exuded an air of ethereal weakness, his frailty unmistakably a result of a chronic illness that amplified an inherited lack of attractiveness. Appearing far younger than his tender years, he nonetheless held himself with the dignity of his station and gallantly assumed the role of protector to his widowed parent.

Lizzy eased into the assembly as effortlessly as always, Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam contributing as fitting to their personalities. That is to say, Darcy offered short sentences and engaged Lord Francis-Nall and Mr. McQuade in a lengthy conversation about the recent races at Ascot, whereas Richard gradually loosened under the carefree chatter and buoyant atmosphere. Never one to remain uncomfortable or tongue-tied for long, he rapidly exchanged his previous anxieties for his native charisma. Of course, it helped that Lady Fotherby was as naturally witty and effervescent as he was and additionally seemed deliberately to steer the dialogue in his direction as often as possible; or at least his heart hoped it was intentional.

“Mrs. Darcy, your home is lovely. I have driven past Darcy House before, but have never been so blessed as to be a guest.”

“Thank you, my Lady. I daresay that was not due to any slight intended, but merely because Mr. Darcy has not been fond of entertaining.”

Lady Fotherby laughed. “No slight perceived, I assure you. I never knew your husband as well as his esteemed cousin”—she nodded toward Richard with a teasing smile on her lips—“but recognized his reserved nature at a young age. Quite unlike you, Colonel. A notorious flirt, I must say.”

“Charm and sporting are taught in the military as tactics for deceiving the enemy. I was merely practicing my profession.” Richard quipped with a straight face.

“Indeed, Colonel. Well, you were accomplished, so it surprises me naught that you have risen to such a high rank. We shall see if you have lost your edge and therefore doomed to remain a mere colonel forever.”

Richard bowed with a flourish, Lady Fotherby laughing as Lizzy spoke. “Personality is a possession my cousin holds in spades, to the point of irritation from time to time.” She offset her words with a playful and affectionate touch to his arm, continuing more seriously. “However, it is his valor and bravery that has earned the notice of his superiors. If it is a subject that interests you, my Lady, Colonel Fitzwilliam is replete with tales both extraordinary and courageous. I cannot say my pride in our country’s armed forces was as profound until deeds were extolled by the good Colonel. I am sure he would delight in sharing with you, in his typically captivating way.”

Richard’s thankfulness at Lizzy’s clever manipulation hid his astonishment at her deception. The truth was that he had never once spoken of anything military to Darcy’s wife! What tales he told were flippant and spun for humor rather than enlightenment.

His gratefulness increased tenfold when Lady Fotherby replied, “It would be an honor to hear your stories, Colonel Fitzwilliam. You are aware, I am sure, what a strong supporter my late husband was of the King’s military. I too shared his passion in the subject. And specifically for the men who sacrifice so much for our great country.”

The last was uttered softly and with a penetrating gaze into his eyes. Richard’s breath caught and it was as if the entire room faded away for a brief time. Strange how tiny details will suddenly loom large and burn into the consciousness. He noted the color of her eyes, a hazel base with pinpoint flecks of greens and blues; the fine lines at the corners of her eyes which lent an air of maturity to her otherwise youthful face; the multiple lengths of her golden eyelashes; the small mole above her left upper lip; and on it went. The girlish face he remembered so vividly from those bygone days of immature infatuation now melded with and was supplanted by the adult one seen clearly with the steady love of a grown man.

Further conversation flowed, Colonel Fitzwilliam and Lady Fotherby fluently drawn into the general discourse as the topics shifted. None but Lizzy and Darcy noted the oblique if borderline pointed exchanges between the two, although Lord Francis-Nall did frown a time or two. The stiffly hovering Lord Fotherby was finally persuaded by his stepmother to join the bands of adolescents flittering around the room. He resisted, shyness apparent and empathized with by Darcy, but was eventually swayed by the rowdy capture by a couple of friends, sons of other prominent guests.

“Mrs. Darcy, the announcement has been made for the sarabande.” Darcy turned to his wife with a staid expression, the twinkle in his vibrant blue eyes only visible to her discerning gaze. “I believe it is incumbent upon us to partake in this particular dance whenever possible. May I have the honor?” His rich voice dropped into an intimate caress.

She took the offered hand with a curtsy and brilliant smile, her own voice a seductive purr. “The honor is mine, Mr. Darcy.”

He inclined his head, flashing a bright smile, and squeezing her fingers firmly before leading away.

The handsome couple strolled regally to the line without a backward glance, eyes locked upon the other, and just like that, Richard and Lady Fotherby found themselves alone.

Lady Fotherby wore a wistful smile as she observed the pair. Unconsciously she sighed, murmuring, “They appear so happy together and well matched. Mr. Darcy is particularly gay these days.”

“Marriage has brought out his lighter side,” Richard said. “He is forever lauding the glories of matrimony.”

“Do his acclamations not move you to take the plunge, Colonel?”

He met her eyes with a steady gaze, attempting to discover the reasoning behind the casual remarks while also trying to pour his sentiments into the responses. “In truth, I have begun to rethink my prior adherence to the superior merits of bachelorhood. Perhaps it is the wisdom that comes with age, or seeing others find happiness in marriage, or maybe… other stimulations. But lately, for a few months now, I have seriously altered my attitude.”

“How wonderful. I am sure every young lady of eligibility in London will be thrilled to hear the news.”

He chuckled. “You are kind, Lady, but this is doubtful. Besides, few of them hold any interest to me.”

She feigned shock as she teased, “Why, Colonel, how do you expect to cross from the realm of single man to happily married couple if you limit your choices and remain aloof?”

He paused, speaking concisely in a low tone when answering. “I deem it wiser not to look beyond ladies in near proximity. A man my age knows what he wants.” He paused again, waiting, but she merely nodded with a secretive but pleased smile playing about her mouth. Richard could not prevent a wide grin from spreading along with the warmth diffusing through his chest. “May I have the privilege of escorting you in the next dance, Lady Fotherby? I believe it to be a minuet.”

For the first time she glanced away, cheeks flushing slightly as she assured they remained isolated. Her voice was apologetic when she replied, “I regret I must decline your kind and welcome offer, Colonel Fitzwilliam. I promised my family I would adhere to their set timetable of mourning my husband for a full year. My recent excursions beyond my home were under the express agreement that I would socialize lightly and not dance.” There was a hint of anger to her tone, nothing in her demeanor giving the impression of overwhelming grief at her loss. She shook herself slightly, again meeting Richard’s eyes with a sweet smile. “Perhaps another time?”