Catherine was standing alone, but she was hardly on her own, and far from vulnerable. Her mother was talking to a guest across the floor, keeping a sharp eye on her daughter to make sure she only danced with suitable men.

Catherine did not need to see her mother's shake of the head to make up her mind that this fellow was highly unsuitable. The entitled command from a practical stranger offended her. Wasn't he one of those Carringtons? Dancing with one of them was be social suicide.

She raised her eyebrows and looked at him with a polite but cheerless smile. "I'm sorry. Have we been acquainted?"