Puzzles and mysteries. Victor approved. (This was confirmation bias in the extreme, because if their first conversation had started with her stating her interests in so many words, he would have been entirely dismissive. By mysteries he would have assumed she meant mystery novels, which had more in common with penny dreadfuls than with actual literature. Puzzles were slightly better, but she might have only meant the ones occasionally published in the paper that involved trite society jokes as the solutions. He could have put both under the umbrella of playing at intelligence, believing academic pursuits were something young women put on and took off when it suited them like a cloak. But she had lit someone's roses on fire and he had already decided she was interesting, so he was predisposed to view these more charitably now).

"I certainly can't blame her for tiring of balls," he agreed. "Especially with such a wealth of experience with them. They lack the originality to remain interesting throughout a single season, much less..." He didn't remember exactly how many seasons Miss Christabel had, and thought he probably ought not to know the exact number anyway; it would give away that he'd done his research. He waved a hand as if to say well, it's of no consequence though the fact that he'd mentioned it at all suggested otherwise. Endymion hadn't responded to his attempts to fish so far, but Victor was sure if anything was going to lure him into saying more it would be this almost-insult; any good brother would make a defense of her, and how he chose to do so might be telling. If he chose not to do so, it would be even more telling.

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