The familiarity he used was closer to that shared in their letters than what was appropriate in public. And, for a moment, she was so overjoyed to hear her name on his lips that Eloise could think of little else. Her name was magic coming from him, sparks of electricity bursting like fireworks. It was the sea breeze brushed past her on the shore and reminded her of home. A decade of rigid distance, and she was undone by a single word. Three syllables and she belonged to him just as passionately as she had back then.

The moment to return the favor was lost as she struggled to return her thoughts to the present. The dance was over, the partners separating and in search of their next. Eloise hands fell a second after his own, grasping at the edge of her dress so that she may curtsey and leave. She had to leave.

"The pleasure was all mine, Mr. Scrimgeour," she murmured once she was standing once more. "Good evening."

Merlin, save her.