Suddenly, all trace of laughter was erased from his chiseled features (I hadn’t noticed last night what fine cheekbones he had) and he essayed a decorous bow.

“I apologize, Miss Delacourt. It’s just I wanted to give you this in person. I’m quite sure you’ll understand and perhaps even forgive my … intrusion when you see it.” He drew a long, flat box out from beneath his riding cloak. The box was light blue in color and trimmed with gilt.

“What is it?” I asked, curiosity getting the better of me. I held out my hands and he placed the box gently on my waiting palms. It felt light. I was almost tempted to shake it.

“Something you left behind last night. Something every fashionable lady requires for her season.”

I carefully eased open the lid and pushed it aside. Inside the box lay my fan, the fan I’d carelessly broken last night. I suddenly remembered leaving it on the table next to my reticule as I danced. But I didn’t remember it being there when I came back for my reticule at the end of the night…