“I dance as I feel.”
It was what Lord Marston had thought.
No Teacher and no Producer could have designed such movements and such steps that came, as the Prince would have said, from the soul.
Their horses were restless and they moved forward, riding three abreast with Serge behind them.
The Prince's eyes were on Lokita’s face and, as if she could not help herself, she kept looking at him and finding it hard to look away.
“Let me come back with you,” the Prince asked. “I would like to pay my respects to Miss Anderson and hope she is not too distressed by the events of yesterday evening.”
“It was very frightening for her,” Lokita said, “and for – me. She has decided in future that when we go to the theatre – we will take Serge with us.”
She looked back at the man behind her and the P
