“Yes,” she said quickly.
He led her to the floor and they began to waltz.
As they fell into the rhythm of the music, she glanced over her shoulder in time to see the Earl’s son stalk moodily away. She breathed a quiet sigh and realized she had no idea who she was dancing with.
She glanced up. He was politely looking over her shoulder, his face framed by dark hair that contrasted with her own gold strands.
“He’s gone?” he inquired lightly.
“Who—?” she began, but was cut off.
“The Earl’s son.”
“How did you know about that?”
“I saw it. His subtlety was somewhat lacking.”
“Ah. And you’ve been watching him all evening?”
“I’ve been watching you.”
She was thrown a little off balance by this last statement.
“Might I ask your name?” she said stiffly.
“No.”
“Then what company you arrived with?”
“I am not attached to any group present.”
“Were you actually invited?”
His eyes met hers.
“As it happens, I was not not invited, so you could say the invitation was implied.”
She broke eye contact.

A tense moment passed.