Another tidbit from my Regency romance Brynnde:
Brynnde watched in a dazed and distracted sort of way as Garrick lifted his hand, not realizing what he meant to do until he ran a finger over her cheek. She knew she should pull away, but rather like a cat she felt compelled to push her cheek into the touch. “I doubt Papa would—” she began, but then a shrill call cut her words short.
“Brynnde! Brynnde, are you out here?”
“Yes, Maman!” Brynnde answered. She turned to give Garrick some hasty parting words but, like a shadow burned away by sunlight, he was already gone.