Beatrice looked up from her book, spoon of porridge halfway to her mouth, and blinked slowly in suprise at hearing her name - her face reminiscent of a stray dog caught before a carriage. Breakfast, once mother left if she joined them at all, were normally silent affairs in which she was the only consistent factor in an otherwise revolving cast. Mother had already gone over her social calendar so she hadn't actually expected Victor to speak to her - not there morning after his birthday trip.

"Uhh... ah a good marriage? I think that really depends on the individual," Bea drawled, glancing between the book and her brother before setting the book down. She knew logically that her brother had been searching for both a husband for her but also a wife for himself but his own hunt wasn't something they often talked about. "I mean, I guess as a bare minimum it would be nice if it was someone you trusted and enjoyed the company of.