It was maddening how quickly he had found himself becoming attached to this young woman. He had considered courting one or two ladies in the past – those whose practiced arts would have been perfectly suited to his brother-in-law’s formal events – but none of them had come close to charming him as much as Miss Evans did. What was it, he wondered? She was beautiful of course, though didn’t seem to notice it in herself, but beyond that commonplace thing there was a vividness to Miss Evans that he had seen in precious few others.

It was as though the women of the world had existed in the sepia tones of a photographs and Miss Evans was sudden, vital colour. Of course such thoughts were ones he kept to himself – he was, after all, not a poet.

“I’m glad to hear it,” he replied earnestly, offering her his arm and his most charming smile. “Shall we take a turn around the room? Hopefully the other wild animals in here won’t be quite so violent. And perhaps we could risk a dance?”

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