2 thoughts on “Every picture tells a story

  1. As she closed her eyes to shut out the light boring into her skull, a dark shadow fell across her face. Looking up to find an unknown gentleman bowing, she stared over her shoulder, to see if he meant to speak to the brocade-covered wall rather than her. She turned back, scrambled to her feet, and dropped into a curtsey, looking around for Aunt Minerva, as Bella would never hear the end if she spoke to a man without an introduction.

    “Miss Smithson, I’m told?”

    “Um.” She kept searching for her aunt, her cousin, even her brother would do at the moment.

    “Myron Clewes, Baron Holsworthy, at your service. I was hoping you might allow me the pleasure of the next dance.”

    “Er.” Her fingers were once again twisted in her gown, and all the blood that had drained from her face now rushed back full force. She was certain the room had just gained ten degrees, as she could feel the perspiration on her forehead and upper lip. In light of this new, more pressing problem, her headache melted away. “Um?”

    He held his arm out, and lacking the capacity to speak a full sentence, she had nothing left to do but take it.

Love hearing from you