(Fred)
The waltz over, he bowed over his leading lady's hand, brushing lips across her knuckles, and then excused himself. He needed a moment away from her, needed to clear his head from the ever-growing desire to possess her. He'd seen, while spinning his Christine through their waltz, another dancer he recognized. Fred, the one he had hoped could be in his ballet, had been waltzing with the one he assumed had been her guest.
And now she was waiting at the door. He moved quickly through the press of humanity and to Fred's side. "I am pleased," he said without preamble, "That you attended."