"You look gorgeous, as always, Princess Roxanne."
Lord Adrian Beaumont had materialized beside me before I had even fully entered the ballroom, capturing my hand and pressing a kiss to my knuckles with all the subtlety of a peacock in mating season.
Oh god. Not this. Not tonight.
"Lord Adrian," I managed, forcing a smile that probably looked more like a grimace. "Thank you."
I tried to extract my hand. He held on.
"That gown," he continued, apparently oblivious to my discomfort. "Absolutely exquisite. The color brings out your eyes magnificently, and the embroidery, is that gold thread? It must be gold thread, I have an excellent eye for these things, my mother always says so, she's very particular about fashion you see, and just last week she was telling me about this new dressmaker from—"
Make it stop. Please, someone make it stop.
The gown was beautiful, I had to admit. The palace seamstresses had outdone themselves.
