“ … and now move your left foot gracefully forward. No, Darce, your other left foot!”

Colonel Fitzwilliam became tired of humming the waltz tune and stopped to take a breather. In the silence, a feminine gasp was heard from the direction of the door; the three gentlemen froze in position.

Darcy: Good God. Was that … ? No. I could not possibly have heard what I think I just heard. Fate would not be so unkind. Would it? He slowly turned around.

Bingley: Fiend seize it! To hell with this! I am out of here! Sorry, Darce. He quickly headed for the door.

Fitz: I would probably relish this as a comical dill-emma was I not involved in the same pickle. With a sour expression on his face, he fumbled in his pocket for the key to the library and followed his friend.

Bingley’s face was flaming as he curtly bowed to Miss Elizabeth and mumbled what might have been an apology. Elizabeth stepped aside to allow him to pass and was surprised to see Colonel Fitzwilliam hard on his heels. The officer also bowed abruptly and muttered something unintelligible as Lizzy moved farther into the library.

The unmistakable sound of a key being turned in the lock from the outside caused her to reach for the doorknob. Elizabeth’s frantic assault on the immovable object proved futile, and she said a silent prayer. Good Lord! I cannot possibly remain in this room with only Mr. Darcy, although I would certainly like to hear his explanation ... and perhaps a declaration of his intentions. Lizzy turned to face the other occupant and hoped this turn of events might turn out to be a turning point in her life. With her back pressed against the door, she watched the gentleman turn in her direction.

In the hallway, on the other side of the same portal, the red-coated officer had second thoughts about locking the lady in the library. On the one hand, he wanted to do a good turn for Darcy; on the other, he knew he should allow Miss Elizabeth a chance to escape from the room, his cousin, and her fate. His loyalty to family, he decided after a moment’s hesitation, was the key point in favour of Darcy. Colonel Fitzwilliam was no turncoat. He turned away and quickly strode down the corridor.

Jane Bennet was surprised to pass Mr. Bingley in the hallway without any sort of acknowledgement from the gentleman. He was alarmingly coloured up and in an obvious state of mortification. Well, that is very peculiar! Oh, dear, I hope it is nothing serious. As Jane neared the library, she turned her head to watch the poor chap hurry toward the ballroom. When she turned back … OOF! She found herself up against a solid, crimson-coated chest, encased in a pair of red-sleeved arms of steel, and surrounded by a very alluring masculine scent. Jane was breathless, not due to the impact, but because the chest, arms, and scent belonged to the body of none other than her handsome barbarian, Colonel Richard ‘Stud-Muffin’ Fitzwilliam.

The good-looking army officer considered himself one very lucky man, indeed. He had helped his cousin with two dilemmas, was not the one discovered in Darcy’s embrace, and was now the one embracing the incredibly gorgeous Jane Bennet.

“Miss Bennet, I am most dreadfully sorry. Are you well? I have not injured you, have I?”

Truthfully, Fitz was not dreadfully sorry at all and had not released his clutch.

They were so close she could feel his deep, resonant voice rumble within her. Jane glanced up into captivating hazel eyes that darkened as he gazed back.

She breathlessly whispered, “The fault is all mine, sir. I believe my head was turned. I am not at all injured and should probably go to my sister now. She is in the library, is she not?” Truthfully, she did not wish to be released from his emboldening embrace.

“Yes, but perhaps it would be prudent not to disturb Miss Elizabeth and Darcy just yet. I believe my cousin has a very important matter to discuss with your sister.”

He smiled down at her, and Jane nearly swooned. I do feel a bit weak; so perhaps remaining in his strong, protective arms just a little longer can be justifiably … justified.

Why does it feel like the most beautiful woman in the world is in my arms? “Jane, why does it feel like the most beautiful woman in the world is in my arms?”Good God Almighty, please, please tell me I did not just repeat that inanity aloud.

“You are not allowed to address me in such a familiar manner, sir. You are far too forward. Are you, perchance, a trifle disguised, Colonel?”

“I am not drunk, dear lady, just intoxicated by you.” He winced slightly. Oh God, I am a Colonel of corn! But still he would not release her.

“Gracious! You are oddly audacious.”

“Madam, may I be frank?”

“I would prefer you be yourself, Colonel,” Jane saucily replied. “I was under the impression your name was Richard.”

“Miss Bennet, heed this warning,” he growled. “You are dangerously playing with fire with your teasing and calling me by my first name. You give everyone the impression you are very perfectly demure, yet here you are addressing me in a familiar manner and being rather forward. I know I have been the recipient of your admiring glances. Tell me, is there more behind those tantalizing looks than just appreciation for this uniform? Do you have any affectionate regard for the man beneath the red coat?”

Jane blushed but steadily looked him in the eye as she brazenly whispered, “What the eye does not admire, the heart does not desire … Richard.”

Colonel Fitzwilliam groaned and then instinctively, heedlessly claimed her mouth; Miss Bennet definitely did not wish to be released from his warm embrace, ever. The couple was oblivious and did not hear the approaching soft footfalls and swish of expensive silk gowns.

Lady Anne Darcy: “Nephew!!! Miss Bennet??? Oh, Lord!”

Miss Anne de Bourgh: “Whoo-hoo! The fat is in the fire now. I mean, tsk, tsk. Shame on you, Fitz!”

Miss Anna Darcy: “Cousin! (Gasp!) Jane! What are you two doing?”

The military officer groggily disengaged his lips from the intoxicating osculation, and his passion-filled eyes suddenly opened wide as he became conscious of his surroundings and the scorn of three female relatives. Still, he did not release Jane from his protective embrace as she hid her flushed face on his chest.

“Richard Cosmo Fitzwilliam! Unhand Miss Bennet this minute! Be a good soldier and march into the library while I send for your father. Anna, please go tell your uncle he is needed immediately. Anne, please escort Miss Bennet somewhere and ascertain whether she was … under duress.”

“Pardon me, Lady Anne. There is no need. I can assure you right now that I was under no duress. I am thoroughly ashamed of my conduct, but please do not blame your nephew. The fault was not the gentleman’s.”

The Colonel protested, “Miss Bennet! The fault was most assuredly mine, and I most willingly take full responsibility for my ungentlemanly actions.”

“Richard, I told you to wait in the library.”

“Um. I cannot go in there right now, Aunt Anne.”

“Whatever do you mean?”

“Uh … well, it is currently occupied.”

“By whom?”

Sorry, Darce, old man. “Your son is in there.”

“Well, I shall certainly just boot him out of there.” Lady Anne jangled the knob, yet the door remained closed. “Richard, why is this room locked? You just informed me Fitzwilliam is inside. Is he unwell?” Lady Anne narrowed her eyes at her nephew, who at once looked anywhere but at his aunt’s face. In an ominous voice she said, “Is there, by any chance, someone in there with my son?”

The normally brave military officer cringed and said quietly, “Miss Elizabeth Bennet is in there with him, ma’am.”

The lady swooned and would have crumpled to the floor if not for her quick-thinking, fast-acting niece, Miss Anne de Bourgh. 

Behind the closed library doors, Fitzwilliam Darcy slowly turned to determine whose feminine gasp he heard before his fickle fiend of a friend fled and the military officer deserted. When he beheld Elizabeth, he experienced mixed feelings of relief as well as intense humiliation. There she stood, with her back pressed against the door, as she stared at him with huge eyes. He held his hands out in supplication and said, “It was not what I think you think. I think.”