Shelley blinks at him, and can't help colouring very slightly.

A strange man, a strange Forsaken man is asking her to dance, and oh dear, is he ever gorgeous. But then, they all are, which is not fair in the least. This would be Rahvin, then. The womaniser, Elan had said.

She risks a quick glance over to where he is dancing and talking with Lanfear. It's a public room, she's safe enough.

"O-of course, my lord Rahvin," she manages, with a small smile. Politeness is sensible.