Merida watched as Estelle's eyebrows arched higher, catching the subtle shift in her demeanor. She noted the pursed lips and the curt reply, understanding that her own casual stance on marriage had struck a nerve. Estelle's forceful declaration about Maxime drew a flicker of amusement across Merida's face, though she quickly masked it with a more thoughtful expression.

"Of course, not with him," Merida echoed lightly, her tone a mix of agreement and subtle amusement. She took a sip of her champagne, her eyes never leaving Estelle's. "So, if not Mr Maxime, who might catch your eye at an event like this?" Merida asked, her curiosity genuine. "Surely there must be someone here who is of interest?" she asked - what else did debutantes gossip about at an event - other than prospects.

  

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If the season was a battleground, a contest of its own – campaigning for election was not so different to campaigning for a husband – then Estelle was not much inclined to give up any of the cards in her hand in this little heart-to-heart. She would not want Miss Greyback to steal a potential match from right under her nose.

Not even Mr. Maxime.

“I don’t know,” Estelle said, cagey and disdainful. “Has anyone caught your eye?”

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