Stay in the ballroom and have a party

The ballroom had never seemed so alive.

The orchestra filled the hall with lively music as couples moved gracefully across the polished floor. Laughter echoed from every corner while servants hurried between the guests with fresh glasses of wine.

You remained near the edge of the room, watching the evening unfold.

Across the hall, Lady Charlotte had become the centre of attention.

Every few moments another gentleman approached her.

Some asked for a dance.

Others merely wished to introduce themselves.

She accepted each conversation with the same polite smile, though it was becoming increasingly obvious that she was growing tired of repeating herself.

You caught Sir Edward's eye from across the room. He saw what fixed your eyes.

He raised his glass slightly before giving the faintest shake of his head.

A silent reminder.

Keep a low profile.

You looked back towards Charlotte.

She laughed politely at something one of the gentlemen had said.

A moment later her eyes wandered across the room.

They found yours.

She smiled.

Something about the expression lingered.

You finished the last of your wine.

"One dance," you muttered to yourself. What is the worst that could happen?"

Ignoring Edward's warning, you crossed the ballroom.

Several conversations faltered as you approached.

Charlotte looked pleasantly surprised.

"Mr. Thomas."

You offered a respectful bow.

"My Lady."

"I was beginning to think you intended to spend the whole evening hiding."

"I considered it."

"And yet?"

"I found myself unable to ignore the best dancer in the room."

Charlotte laughed.

She looked at your offered hand.

For just a second, she hesitated.

Then she placed her hand in yours.

"I should very much like that."

As you led her onto the dance floor, you became painfully aware of just how many eyes had followed you.

The music began.

Charlotte stepped closer.

"I believe you've made quite the entrance."

"I've noticed."

"You do realise people will talk."

"They already do."

She smiled.

"I suppose they will."

The dance carried you effortlessly across the room.

At first the conversation came easily.

Then, as the music slowed, words became less necessary.

Charlotte's hand rested comfortably in yours.

Your other hand remained lightly against her waist.

Neither of you seemed eager to increase the distance between you.

"You dance surprisingly well," she said.

"I have an excellent partner."

"You are determined to flatter me tonight."

"Is it working?"

She laughed again.

"You are rather bold after a glass of wine."

"Only one?"

"I'm beginning to suspect two."

By the final notes of the dance, you had almost forgotten the crowded ballroom around you. Her body was now so close to you, that you could feel warmth of her chest.

It was only the polite applause that brought you back.

As you escorted Charlotte from the floor, you noticed Lord Blackwood watching with an unreadable expression.

Not far away, Sir Edward met your eyes.

He sighed into his wine before the corner of his mouth curled into an amused smile.

"You certainly know how to make an impression," Charlotte said quietly.

"I hope it was the right one.", you said nervously.

She held your gaze for a moment.

"I think... It was."

Before anyone else could claim her attention, she gave your hand one last gentle squeeze.

"I do hope this won't be our last dance this hunt."

With a warm smile, she disappeared back into the gathering of guests, leaving you standing a little taller than before.

The rest of the evening went by fast. A lot of the gents in the room seemed to pay more attention to you, and you were exhausted when Edward finally asked you to accompany him to his room. Before he entered, he turned to face you.

“I must say I am impressed that you succeeded in your little endeavor, but the next time I must request that you follow my advice.”

His tone was friendly but stern. Not to be misunderstood. You nodded and headed away to your room.

As you lay in bed you recalled the feeling of Lady Charlotte’s warmth and her soft waist. Before you could continue your daydreams in other directions, sleep hit you like a hammer, and the alcohol worked its magic.