Are you wanting to dance, too, Lord Ashton?” Eliza asked without any preliminaries when he stood before her. “I hope not. My feet hurt and I am tired.”
The music began again, a lively gigue this time. “I wouldn’t dream of it. If you wish, I will protect you from all such offers.”
“Thank you, but there is one partner you cannot protect me from,” she sighed looking past him. “He is coming my way.”
Jeremy turned to see the king approaching.
“I am afraid it would be treason,” he said, “but I gladly offer my head in the service of your feet.
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