Oh. Oh dear.
Flighty little thing, isn't she?
"Oh, goodness, my lady, let me—"
"Allow me."
Mikhail froze, gritted his teeth, and turned with Gavriella still in his arms to see a young woman with his eyes smirking at him as she held out a glass of water. "Reina. Dearest," he said through gritted teeth. "Excellent timing." Suspiciously so.
Reina just beamed at him and pressed the glass into Gavriella's hand before giving the other woman a pat on the back. "Easy, darling. My brother has this effect on most women, believe me. Just take a sip and breathe."
The Bartok siblings had managed to guide her toward the edge of the dance floor without drawing too much attention, and Reina's attention was already wandering again. She shot Mikhail a look—you've got this?—and he nodded once. She gave Gavriella another smile and urged quietly, "Sit, dear, catch your breath," before she turned and glided away back toward the veranda.
"I apologize, my lady," Mikhail said with a sigh as he guided Gavriella onto the nearest chair and half knelt in front of her. He offered a sheepish smile. "It was a joke in poor taste, I'll admit, but I didn't mean to startle you so."