”Badl—?” he began, prepared to ask how she could possibly think such a thing, but his speech was interrupted by the arrival of the woman. He immediately put a foot or space between himself and Miss Lestrange, and in looking at the older woman felt suddenly sobered from his lust-drunk state. He glanced back and forth between the two ladies, knowing how at must have looked but finding that his tongue had caught in his mouth. There was an urge to try and explain himself—but then, the woman hadn’t said anything suggesting she required (or even wanted) an explanation.

Instead, he cleared his throat. “Of course,” he said, feeling all too stiff as he took another step away from Miss Lestrange and into the light. His cheeks were still pink, but not overly so; however, he wore an expression of guilt that said everything that went unspoken. “Miss Lestrange,” he said finally, angling his head down in farewell—it was best to disappear before he stumbled over his words.

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