Francesca lingered near the edge of the ballroom, where the candlelight is softer and the crush of people thins just enough to breathe. One hand rests around the stem of her glass while the other smooths the crease of her glove, a small nervous habit hidden by graceful movements. Her attention is on the dancers at first, but when she noticed a pair nearby, her gaze paused.

After a moment’s hesitation, she stepped closer. The music swells around the ballroom, but when she speaks, her voice is gentle and carefully measured.

“Good evening.” A faint smile touched her lips before she glanced briefly toward the floor, gathering herself. “I am Francesca- Bridgerton. Kilmartin. Sorry. I am Kilmartin now”

She gave a tiny, almost embarrassed breath at the stumble, then lifts her eyes again.

“I hope you are enjoying yourself.” Her fingers tightened lightly around the glass before easing again.