Lord Windham and I exchanged pleasantries as we waited for the band to strike up the next tune.

“Have you been enjoying yourself, Miss Delacourt? You appear much restored since I saw you last.”

How I longed to claw his eyes out after hearing that remark. ‘Tis a wonder I was able to restore myself after you mauled me, sir! I longed to cry. But I simply smiled and delivered a picture-perfect curtsy. The band began playing then, as if on cue.

It was a waltz. I’d never danced the waltz with anyone except my cousin, let alone a man.

I froze mid-curtsy. Lord Windham’s curious stare shook me out of my shock.

He took my hand in his, and his other hand came to rest at my waist. It felt as though it was burning clean through my gown, the heat spreading out towards my legs.

“You took so long to get back up from your curtsy, I thought your petticoats came loose. It happened to my sister, once,” he said coolly. But there was a twitch at his lips, as though he wanted to laugh.

I “accidentally” trod on his foot.