To be perfectly honest, Endymion wasn’t sure what was happening here. Daphnel had brought up Christabel, and had seemed to be amused by her and then seemed to be almost critical, but it was certainly beginning to feel that he was assessing her, or making some statement of his own. Endymion rather wished he would be a little more forward with it, if that was the case. He hadn’t known Daphnel, in recent years at least, to have taken a great deal of interest in debutantes at all.
Had something changed there? Had Christabel made him stop and take notice? Endymion was – surprised, or intrigued, and maybe a little impressed. It sounded simply dreadful to say he’d given up hope for Christabel – when she was younger than him, for one, even if in society’s eyes at large women’s prospects were rather less perennial than a bachelor’s – but regardless, she, like Daphnel, had never seemed particularly urgent about it before.
And oh, that was as much a statement as anything, wasn’t it? I have every expectation that we'll continue to get on well. He meant to continue seeing her, getting to know her – was this the scent of courtship in the air? (Endymion had rakish brothers, so he was fairly certain rakes didn’t go about hinting at their intentions to a debutante’s brothers, unless they were stupid and looking for a duel.)
“Well, I’m delighted to hear that,” Endymion said loosely, brimming with good cheer and a genuine smile and not a great deal of judgement. He ought to interrogate Daphnel a little more, probably, to see quite how serious his intentions were, but he had known him long enough to deem him a fairly good fellow without doing further research. “She’s great fun.” And so was Daphnel, and if the setting fires thing had been any indication, they were both the same kind of intellectual oddity – although, if Daphnel did come to call, they really ought not try anything in Lowri Dempsey’s gardens, because their mother would not take kindly to him then. (Try any experimental magic, that was, not the hammock sort of ‘anything’, although – as Dymion recalled with painful awareness – Lowri Dempsey did not take very kindly to that either.)
Still, for the moment Endymion took another sip of his drink, smiled into his glass, and decided he could be afforded a little taste of mischief. “And would you like me to ask her for her impression of you?” he inquired, raising his eyebrows jokingly. (He might have to do that anyway now, he thought, just out of curiosity.)
Had something changed there? Had Christabel made him stop and take notice? Endymion was – surprised, or intrigued, and maybe a little impressed. It sounded simply dreadful to say he’d given up hope for Christabel – when she was younger than him, for one, even if in society’s eyes at large women’s prospects were rather less perennial than a bachelor’s – but regardless, she, like Daphnel, had never seemed particularly urgent about it before.
And oh, that was as much a statement as anything, wasn’t it? I have every expectation that we'll continue to get on well. He meant to continue seeing her, getting to know her – was this the scent of courtship in the air? (Endymion had rakish brothers, so he was fairly certain rakes didn’t go about hinting at their intentions to a debutante’s brothers, unless they were stupid and looking for a duel.)
“Well, I’m delighted to hear that,” Endymion said loosely, brimming with good cheer and a genuine smile and not a great deal of judgement. He ought to interrogate Daphnel a little more, probably, to see quite how serious his intentions were, but he had known him long enough to deem him a fairly good fellow without doing further research. “She’s great fun.” And so was Daphnel, and if the setting fires thing had been any indication, they were both the same kind of intellectual oddity – although, if Daphnel did come to call, they really ought not try anything in Lowri Dempsey’s gardens, because their mother would not take kindly to him then. (Try any experimental magic, that was, not the hammock sort of ‘anything’, although – as Dymion recalled with painful awareness – Lowri Dempsey did not take very kindly to that either.)
Still, for the moment Endymion took another sip of his drink, smiled into his glass, and decided he could be afforded a little taste of mischief. “And would you like me to ask her for her impression of you?” he inquired, raising his eyebrows jokingly. (He might have to do that anyway now, he thought, just out of curiosity.)
