Gregory and Gwendolyn
"No!" Gwen shouted in mock concern when it seemed he might leap into her arms after all; and, giggling, she turned away as though to shield herself from an incoming libertine. Really, it was a good thing they got off the floor before they made altogether too much of a spectacle, everyone would become jealous of not having as much fun as the pair and begin to drone ceaselessly about their impropriety shortly after. Not that she would really care all that much. It'd just be another thing to add to the litany of complaints against her conduct of late.
Lord Derrick blamed her inability to carry him on roundness about the midsection. "Of course it would have nothing to do with your height," Gwendolyn laughed yet more. "Or perhaps I am simply just not plump enough," which she was not serious about, quite aware that her figure was 'just plump enough' in the opinion of many a member of the male species.
Having come off the dance floor, though, she supposed it was time to find George, whom she had barely glimpsed all evening. Considering....he might feel awkward should Lord Derrick accompany her. "But thank you for the dance, milord, though you quite nearly died of exhaustion," she began the process of bidding him a good evening. "I am afraid I must retreat before my sides are forced to take much more abuse," they were sore from laughing.
"Good night, Lord Derrick," Gwen offered her hand to the young man. "I hope we may speak again soon."