*You hastily search the ballroom for someone you might know to save you from this horrid dance with a random Lord (whom you do not know the name of).

You awkwardly keep your hands on the older man hoping this song will finally end and you will gain your liberty once again. Until a younger man, hopefully an interested suitor, approaches.*

“Good evening, I am Gregory Bridgerton. Might I have this dance, Miss?” He says as if he is immediately dismissing the Lord from our presence.