" Now I know how to still your sharp tongue.” He spoke right into her ear, his cheek almost against her temple. If he moved any closer, they’d become objects of talk. “All I have to do is stand up with you, and your temper falls silent.” “I don’t generally dance.” “I know, though I can’t fathom why. You move like a sylph.” “Are you teasing me?” “I am not.” He pulled back to study her by the candlelight. “I’ve partnered many women, and you are an accomplished dancer.” She relaxed a little at his words, because Hazlit might be a wretch, but he was an honest wretch. He’d tell her to her face when he was making fun of her. “I "
― Grace Burrowes , Lady Maggie's Secret Scandal (The Duke's Daughters, #2; Windham, #5)