May I see your dance card?Dont you believe me? She presented it to him with a flourish.He ran his fingers down the list of names.Hmm . . . Waterburn? Bastard. DAndre. Definitely a worthless bastard. Lord Camber, a thoroughgoing bastard. Lord Michaelson? Bastard. Peter Cheswick? BastShe snatched it from him, laughing.I wouldnt dance a waltz with you, anyway, Lord Dryden.No?You might accidentally lock eyes with Lisbeth Redmond, stumble, and fling me across the room to avoid crushing my feet.

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Julie Anne Long.

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