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Another ball you've been forced to attend by your mama. It doesn't help that you are to find a possible suitor for marriage by the end of the season. You zone out while the man next to you explains how amazing his taste in carriages is. Gladly a certain Bridgerton comes to your rescue.
"Good evening sir,"
He barely offers a smile to the man, his gaze not one of kindness, before his eyes reach yours. He smiles reassuringly at you, bowing.
"I am to escort Miss Featherington to the floor."
You exhale relieved, linking arms with him. He moves his mouth to your ear and whispers with a chuckle:
