I’m currently proofreading Bewitched in order to get it ready for re-publication – and I’m falling in love with Fox and Amy all over again. 🙂 Here’s Amy, not at all happy with the balls in London:*
“Puh.” Clutching her glass of lemonade like a deadly weapon, Amy flopped down on a chair at the edge of the dancing floor, where the gossiping matrons and unfortunate wallflowers had gathered.
Being a wallflower sounded awfully good at the moment. She grimaced and wriggled her aching toes. Every blasted man younger than seventy at this blasted ball had wanted to dance with her at least once. They had given her foolish smiles, had talked to her in avuncular tones while leering at her bossom, and — to make matters worse — some of them had actually stepped on her toes. One hundred and eighty pounds of solid male stepping on one’s toes while they were ensheathed in only the lightest satin slipper could by no means be regarded as amusing.
* I have to admit that I’m guilty of letting the trauma of the dancing lessons I had when I was seventeen or thereabouts influence my heroines’ enjoyment of balls. It is most unfair, I know. But what can I do? *shrugs*