She felt short again for the first time in a while as she stood across from him. Charlotte could not help but stare into his eyes helplessly. What a strange color they were! Caramel – like wild honey from the nests of bees.

            “I believe it is time to begin our dance,” he said, obviously noticing the hallucinatory gaze in Charlotte’s eyes.

            “Of course,” replied Charlotte, realizing that those two words had been the only ones that had escaped her lips since she had run into him.    

            He led her effortlessly to the center of the room, and the two of them began the known routine of a minuet. Charlotte was correct when she had seen him before; his movements were so effortlessly perfect that he gave the impression of gliding.

            “So, Mr.  …” she trailed, beginning the conversation shrewdly, as though she had not heard any gossip about him at all.

            “Dr. Cullen,” he finished for her. “Carlisle, though, if you don’t mind.”

            Charlotte analyzed his tone for a moment before responding to it. “A doctor?” she asked thoughtfully.

            “Yes,” he replied, smiling a little. “I graduated from Oxford last fall, Miss…”

            “Miss Charlotte Marigold,” she introduced.

            “Well, you are quite the dancer, Miss Marigold.”

            “Thank you, Dr. Cullen.”

            He sighed. “Please, I beg you not to call me a doctor…it sounds…too…”

            “Formal?” she finished.

            “Yes, that’s exactly the word I was looking for.”

            They danced in silence for several moments, and before long, the minuet had ended. They bowed and curtseyed to each other and clapped for the musicians as everyone else in the room followed suit with them.

            “Would you mind another dance with me, Miss Marigold?”

            “Indeed, I would,” accepted Charlotte.

            They assumed their positions once more.

            “All right, let’s stop pretending this awkwardness,” said Carlisle at last. “What are London’s ladies saying about me this evening?”   

            Charlotte laughed rather loudly and shook her head. “You seem to notice everything!”

            “I have the eyes of a doctor, Miss Marigold. I am quite observant.”

            Charlotte smiled. “They think that you are rather…strange.”

            For the first time, Carlisle laughed, flashing an absolutely dazzling smile at her that made Charlotte suddenly grow dizzy. “Ah, the usual gossip then, eh?”

            “Is it really?” asked Charlotte, after she had recovered her admiring gaze. “Do they always say things like that about you?”

            He nodded, his smile a little more strained. “Last year, they were content with saying I was no good, and now I’m actually being labeled strange.”

            Charlotte paused. “But, Dr. Cullen…may I ask you something?”

            “Naturally.”

            “Why is it that you only attend two balls a year?”

            His once soft honey eyes grew dark, almost black, and turned cold. “That is none of your concern, Miss Marigold,” he breathed darkly, his voice so mysterious and close to her ear that a shiver forced itself through her spine. “Excuse me,” he said, breaking their contact in the middle of a country dance. Carlisle Cullen bowed to her, and exited the ballroom in a manner that suggested he was never there at all.