You're standing with your friend Margaret at a garden party. When she'd explained last night, over several bottles of wine, what she wanted you to do of course you drunkenly agreed. You both watch your target, Viscount Valentine, as he flirts with a group of women. His hazel eyes glance your way, and you notice he has dimples even when he talks. You can see how she fell for him. You steel your nerves as he excuses himself from his admirers and strides your way, his wolfhound at his heels.