Viscount Beaumont's Birthday Ball — Beaumont London Estate
The chandeliers blazed in warm golden light, scattering diamonds across the polished floor. A fresh set of musicians tuned their strings as titled men and women walked toward the dance floor with a quiet elegance that drew murmurs from every corner.
Sophia watched them go, head tilted, looking as if she were analyzing a painting rather than two people clearly enchanted with each other.
"How peculiar," she murmured. "Felix seems unusually polite tonight. I shall ask him for the next dance, I suppose—after all, we are friends."
Before she could take a single step forward, Benedict gently caught her elbow.
"Sophia," he said lowly, "you must stop."
She blinked up at him, baffled. "Stop what? I am simply going to make an inquiry."
Benedict exhaled as though bracing himself. "You cannot ask Felix for a dance right now."
"Why ever not?"
