Usually I was able to ignore the heated gossip of these women, but tonight I was distracted and letting it get to me. The sound of my name suddenly caught my attention. This was new; they didn’t normally talk about me.

”’Tis a pity the cousin, what’s-her-name…”

“Samantha Delacourt?”

“Yes, that’s it. As I was saying, ‘tis a pity she doesn’t share her cousin’s looks. I mean, she is handsome, albeit in a rather feline way, with those strange slanted eyes of hers.”

I was holding my fan so tightly that the sticks snapped in my hand. I hid it under a fold of my skirt and tried to compose my frayed nerves. Suddenly I felt someone standing over me. Looking up, I found myself staring into a pair of pitch-black eyes.

“Would you care to dance, miss?”

I blinked and resisted the temptation to look around and make sure he was really asking me, and not somebody else.

“Oh no – no thank you. I don’t dance.”

To my surprise, he heaved a sigh of relief and pulled up a chair. “Oh, thank goodness. I don’t either.”