Lord Trent tapped his glass as he stood from the head of the dinner table. “My ward has been the sole source of entertainments to our party so far and I find I could not be outdone. The annual spring dance at a neighbor of ours looks to be cancelled at the last because of a house fire. No lives lost though that will set the Snows back financially for a generation or two. In any case, I have received an urgent request to host the event to prevent the worst.” “The worst?” Mr. Sheffield echoed, his voice tinged with sarcasm. “Oh, yes. Heaven forbid the local gentry is deprived of the chance to prance and bounce about in circles…” The rest of the party’s reactions were immediate and varied, but Mr. Warrick looked only at her with the promise of a waltz in his gaze. “Dear God!” Lord Morley barked. “What a nightmare!” “Not so bad as that,” Mr. Carlton said with a smile. “Country dances are the most charming affairs.”
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