“I’d like to be a jack-o’-lantern,” he said, ignoring her. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “One of those scary ones with flashing eyes and sharp teeth. Then you can roll me out every Halloween to delight the neighborhood.”

Emily giggled obligingly, but Lila was still rooted where she stood, unable to shake the feeling that she was standing on the outside of a joke never meant for her ears. As if to prove it, Ford turned to her and swept a bow.

“Thank you, Princess Lila, for saving my daughter—and for the dance.” His eyes met hers, and he lifted his shoulder in another of those awkward half-shrugs. She assumed it was a prelude to more playful commentary, but all he did was frown slightly and add, “We won’t take up any more of your time.”

And that was it. Without waiting for her to say anything in reply—which was probably for the best, since she had no idea what she could say—he whisked his daughter toward the emergency stairwell and allowed the door to fall shut behind them.

The echoing silence they left in their wake had Lila feeling even more unsettled than when she’d come down here in the first place. Ford and Emily might not have been accustomed to running into beautiful princesses every day, but Lila had even less experience with cracking jokes about The Chicken Dance and waltzing with dashing strangers in tuxedos.

And by less experience, she meant none whatsoever. Men didn’t normally sweep her off her feet before running away like Cinderella hightailing after her footmen. In fact, if it weren’t for the floor dusted with glitter from their waltz, she’d have thought she imagined the whole thing.

But glitter was there in abundance, and another glance at the clock on the wall reminded her that she’d spent far too long down here already. They’d be making the announcements soon, if they hadn’t done so already, and there were several people she needed to see before the night was through.

In other words, it was back to business as usual. Now that she was done with the mortification down here, there was no use in delaying the mortification waiting for her upstairs.

“It’s not like you’ll ever see the pair of them again,” Lila told herself as she picked her way over to the stairwell. She was still feeling a little breathless, but that could easily be blamed on the tight bodice of her dress.

Yes. It was definitely the dress. Not the touch of a man’s hand on her waist, not the whirling sensation that had almost swept her into an indiscretion. Even if everyone upstairs knew that she looked like a fool, at least they’d never know that she felt like one.