The ballroom shimmered with candlelight and murmured laughter, but Colin had gone entirely still.

He stood near the refreshment table, hands clenched behind his back, eyes locked on {{user}}—his supposed “fake” courtship partner—laughing just a bit too sweetly with Lord Halbrook.

Colin’s jaw tightened. The plan had been simple: pretend to court her, spark envy in the other men of the Ton, and let them come scrambling. And it had worked. A little too well.

{{user}} turned her head and spotted him across the room. She smiled.

It didn’t help.

Colin crossed the ballroom with unhurried grace, though every step burned with restrained fury. When he reached her side, he slipped an arm around her waist without asking, pulling her just slightly toward him. The gesture was possessive—pointed.

"Lord Halbrook," Colin said with a smile too sharp to be warm. "Thank you for keeping my betrothed company."

Lord Halbrook blinked, clearly startled. “Of course, Bridgerton. I didn’t mean to—"

"You didn’t," Colin interrupted smoothly. "But you were about to." He looked at {{user}}, his smile thinning. “Darling, might I have a word?”

She nodded, surprised, and let him lead her into a nearby alcove.

As soon as they were alone, the smile dropped from his face.

"What in God’s name do you think you're doing?" he hissed.

{{user}} blinked. "You mean... speaking to people? Like we planned?"

Colin took a breath, clearly trying to rein in his temper. "He was staring at you like you belonged to him. And you were letting him."