Sara swallowed again, harder this time. For some reason, there was the slightest obstruction in her throat. She couldn’t imagine what it was or why it was there. Why shouldn’t the villainous viscount talk and laugh with another young woman? There was nothing wrong with that. That the girl was practically throwing herself at him made no difference to her, none whatsoever.
Perhaps the way she behaved was normal. Perhaps young ladies were supposed to interact with a gentleman like that at a ball. Sara looked around to see that, in fact, there were a number of young women behaving in a similar fashion with other gentlemen—waving their fans and giggling at the things the men said. This was normal, Sara supposed. Odd, but normal.
Sara turned back to Mr. Fotheringay-Phipps and Lord Merrick. The
