Dance 4: Ilyas Keats
English men were different from Indian men. Of that Priti was sure. They were very charming. Especially Lord Davis. The joy of their interaction still lingered in the back of her thoughts and even though Priti knew that she should probably not focus all of her thoughts on one man this early in the season, she let them linger on him for a few more moments. However, in all her daydreaming she wasn’t paying any attention to where she was going and she found herself colliding with another person.
After steadying herself, she turned to face the person. It was a tall and, Priti had to admit, handsome man. Though she couldn’t say that she had met any unattractive men so far this evening. Either way, it made her embarrassed that she was meeting him this way. She stood up straighter, correcting her posture to reflect her usual confidence.
“Forgive me, my lord. My mind was elsewhere” She started, adding a small curtsy to be as formal and polite as possible. The last thing she wanted to do was give someone, especially a man, she had just met a reason to think negatively of her. “Allow me to start over. My name is Priti Mehta.” She introduced herself, figuring that if she was already here with him, she might as well get acquainted.
@Madilfill - Ilyas