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Summary
“And plenty of gentlemen seem to enjoy her as a dance partner.”
Francesca swallows, “I hadn’t noticed.”
“Of course not,” Benedict hums. “That murderous look in your eyes is unrelated then?”
Francesca’s murderous eyes find her brother’s then, and her top lip curls up in something dangerously close to a snarl. The Countess reduces her to a feral animal, unfit for polite society. “I am not her keeper, Benedict,” Francesca spits under her breath, “she can dance with whoever she chooses.”/
Francesca gets jealous watching Michaela dancing at a ball. She reminds her who she belongs to on the carriage ride home.