And, given the thinness of the social calendar on this particular evening, the event had turned into a true crush. The dance floor had narrowed by the press of people until it was overheard that “ ’Tis far too crowded for a country dance, and so close that the waltz becomes positively indecent.” Tony had no more than relinquished Leah’s hand to a dashing young Irish peer than the Earl of Rotherfield edged his way through the departing dancers to her side. His black head gleaming beneath the gaslights, his dress characteristically both expensive and austere, his manner abrupt in the extreme, he managed to insert himself between her and her would-be partner. “Ah, Barrasford—I believe I am promised this dance with Miss Cole.” Not ready to give up the field tamely, the handsome Barrasford raised a barely civil eyebrow. “A Banbury tale, if I ever heard one, Marcus. You are but just arrived, and Tony put her in my care.”
