Taking his cue from her Alfie felt a swell of gratitude that he was not being asked to explain himself. Gemma had made it easy for him and he felt his mouth go dry at the sight of her in the dim lights with the cold air making her cheeks the most fetching shade he could imagine. He had not expected this a development: why had he never noticed quite how lovely she was before?

“I will,” he stuttered, finally finding the strength to look away and head back inside. Walking as though he were in a daze he managed to reach the refreshment table and raised a glass to his dry lips before he stopped himself. He would taste of champagne and not of her if he drank this.

Merlin, he was being ridiculous. She probably wouldn’t think of him if he was the last man in the ballroom, though she had offered him a dance. He would be terrible at it, and they both probably knew it, so it was kind of her even if it was not, he realised, what he wanted.

He wanted to be back on the balcony and to know what he was doing.