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I t had been a very long winter, and the spring dragged out interminably. Pemberley could not soothe Darcy’s heart as it always had before. He could not concentrate on business, and Georgiana commented more than once on his inattentiveness towards her.

Darcy strove ever harder to exhaust himself, to be tired enough to sleep without dreaming of Miss Elizabeth.

It hadn’t worked.

Finally, Lady Matlock had written to him, demanding he bring Georgiana to town, so she might participate in the excitement of London in the season, even if she was not yet out to attend balls and dinners.

Darcy sighed. It might help him to forget Miss Elizabeth, though he could not imagine how.

But that Friday evening, early in March, was almost too much to bear. He stood beside Cousin Richard.

“Aunt Alice, you cannot possibly have gained the duke’s consent to have me attend the Osborne ball with you. You know what he feels about me.”

“Darcy, you must know I would never take you to a ball without the foreknowledge of the hostess.” Her voice was tart.

“I wrote to ask if I might bring you with our party and received a reply from both Lady Cecilia and the Dowager Countess. They specifically said I could bring you, and that it was time.”

“Time for what?” Darcy was suspicious.

She gave a little moué of a shrug. “I imagine they hope that the duke will be so busy with his daughter’s entry into society, he will not demur at being in the same room as you are, and that this will signify a beginning of the end of this estrangement.”

“I would have thought that as he has been hiding his daughter from sight for all these years, the first time she is out in society, he’d be even more protective.” Darcy sighed. “But we are where we are.” He did not want to go home and think of Miss Elizabeth Bennet.

His aunt looked curiously in the direction of Darcy’s attention. “Yes, she is the Lady Elizabeth Osborne, daughter to the Duke of Lancaster. She is very lovely, isn’t she?”

Darcy didn’t take his gaze from across the ballroom. “She is indeed lovely, Aunt Alice.”

“There was a great deal of gossip, of course, when she was never seen in town.” His aunt was persistent. “Rumours that she must have been damaged by the circumstances of her birth, or that she was simple-minded.”

Darcy finally flickered a glance at her. “Anyone can see that she is neither damaged nor simple-minded, Aunt. To perpetuate such rumours would be malicious in the extreme.”

His lips tightened. The temptation to walk across the room and ask for the honour of a dance was nigh overwhelming. But he was not at all sure of the reception he would get from her, and very well aware of what the reaction of the duke to his request would be.

His aunt was thinking something completely different. “The duke is obviously feeling very protective of her, but he ought to allow her to dance so everyone can see she is well.”

Darcy raised an eyebrow. “It will be a brave man who approaches her while she stands beside him.”

“Do you wish your uncle to introduce you?” Aunt Alice seemed inclined to pursue the matter.

“No need,” Darcy said brusquely. “I am acquainted — with the lady at least.”

Her astonishment amused him, but he had to hide it. He bowed at his aunt, and left her side. He wanted to think, not parry questions.

He stood by the wall beside a large floral arrangement; as he had done back at the Meryton assembly, he recalled, and watched the woman he’d known as Miss Elizabeth Bennet.

Now he knew why he had lost her. The woman he had to acknowledge that he loved, the passion a flame in his heart. He could never love another.

When he’d first seen her across this ballroom, he’d been stunned at her beauty, the pale cream satin gown trimmed with emerald ribbon, swirling around her dainty figure.

Then he’d looked again who was beside her, and his heart became colder. The Duke of Lancaster; a man who bore a grudge — more than a grudge, a cold hatred — towards anyone bearing the name Darcy.

It seemed Miss Bennet had been living a lie all those years in Meryton. Had she known, he wondered? How could a small child keep such a secret from all those who knew her?

And why would she live such a lie? Why would the duke choose the Bennet family to hide her away? And the biggest question of all, why would he want to hide her so completely from society?

He sighed and shifted from foot to foot as he watched.

Would it distress her if he approached and asked her for the honour of the next?

He found he was not at all concerned if the duke gave him the cut; after all, he had ignored every missive Darcy had sent over the years, certain that he ought to make the effort to heal the breach between their families.

But, if that were the case, he would lose every last shred of hope he retained that, one day, he might find himself in accord with her again.

He smiled slightly; if he approached where no other man dared, then she would know he was willing to risk everything for her.

He straightened; he would go — now, before he had time to reconsider.

He moved around the edge of the room, happy the current set still had some minutes to go, so any silence that fell would not mean their whole conversation could be overheard.

He approached her and bowed to them both. “Good evening, Lady Elizabeth. You are looking very well.”

The duke swung round, skewering him with his gaze. “You have not been introduced, sir.”

Darcy bowed again. “Your Grace.” He turned to her.

“My lady, might you do me the honour of introducing me to your father?”

She looked rather startled — he surmised she must know the story of her birth. “Of course.” She drew a deep breath and turned to the duke.

“Father, may I present Mr. Darcy? As you know, we became acquainted while I was in Meryton last year.” She turned back to Darcy.

“Mr. Darcy, my father, the Duke of Lancaster.”

Darcy bowed. “Your Grace.”

The man looked as if he wanted nothing more than to give him the cut right there in the ballroom, and Darcy decided that he could not wait, he must show the lady his determination. He turned to her.

“Lady Elizabeth, might you grant me the honour of the next dance?”

She was not to only person to look startled. The duke snorted. “You would never be granted such, Darcy. And you know why!”

Lady Elizabeth put her hand on the duke’s arm.

“Father, Mr. Darcy must have been only a boy at school when this happened. He could not have had anything to do with it.” She gave him a pleading smile.

“And if I decline the offer of this dance, then I must sit out the rest of the evening. What will society say if they see I do not dance at my own ball? And I must also then refuse my cousin when he does arrive.”

The duke made a wordless sound of discontent, but it seemed she had the better of him; although he was not going to give in gracefully.

“How did you know to seek my daughter out in Hertfordshire?” His voice was alive with suspicion.

Darcy dipped his head. “I did not know who she really is until this evening. Last September I arrived in Hertfordshire to stay with a friend at his new estate, but became acquainted with Miss Bennet, as I knew her then, as a neighbour to Bingley. That is all.” He knew the man was still suspicious.

“I will return her safely to your side at the conclusion of the sets.”

The duke sniffed. “I suppose you would go and arrange that the next is a waltz in order to offend me.”

Darcy kept his face impassive and turned to her.

“Lady Elizabeth, if the orchestra strikes up a waltz for the next, might I amend my request to the next dance that is not a waltz?”

She flushed and smiled slightly. “You may, Mr. Darcy.”

He had achieved his aim, so he bowed and returned to his place beside the floral arrangement to wait for the next to begin. He imagined her hand on his as he led her to the dance floor, and his heart pounded. He must be careful not to reveal his feelings.

She was the daughter of a duke — she was above him in every respect.

His shoulders slumped. She would never be his.

But he could torture himself with her presence, and pay her attention as they danced, and he waited impatiently for the current set to end.