Ford ran his tongue over the backs of his teeth. When he spoke his tone was hesitant. "How — is she?"
He'd asked the question on a whim without thinking it through properly, and as he heard the words in the air he realized he shouldn't have. This wasn't the sort of thing he ought to be asking someone else, who had only just met her. If he was in love with her (or not in love but at least on good enough terms that he'd been able to get her undressed in a coatroom in the middle of a ball) then he ought to have already known the answer, because he would have just asked himself. Or maybe he wouldn't have even had to ask — he was sure that if something like this had happened to Tycho, he would have already known exactly what the other man was thinking without needing to send him letters to inquire.
"I mean," he said hastily, trying to figure out how to backtrack before Greer had a chance to respond. "How did she seem to be handling — well, with all the rumors and things." This seemed plausible, he decided; it fit the narrative well enough for them both to be allegedly looking forward to the wedding but still anxious about the gossip that had sprung forth in every direction. And maybe Greer could believe that he'd been writing her letters or visiting her or doing whatever it was dutiful fiances were supposed to do, and had all the right reassurances about how she was faring generally, but was still fretful over how things were going in public. Yes, that was the right tact — how is she in public. "We haven't been out, together since — so I just wondered —"
He'd asked the question on a whim without thinking it through properly, and as he heard the words in the air he realized he shouldn't have. This wasn't the sort of thing he ought to be asking someone else, who had only just met her. If he was in love with her (or not in love but at least on good enough terms that he'd been able to get her undressed in a coatroom in the middle of a ball) then he ought to have already known the answer, because he would have just asked himself. Or maybe he wouldn't have even had to ask — he was sure that if something like this had happened to Tycho, he would have already known exactly what the other man was thinking without needing to send him letters to inquire.
"I mean," he said hastily, trying to figure out how to backtrack before Greer had a chance to respond. "How did she seem to be handling — well, with all the rumors and things." This seemed plausible, he decided; it fit the narrative well enough for them both to be allegedly looking forward to the wedding but still anxious about the gossip that had sprung forth in every direction. And maybe Greer could believe that he'd been writing her letters or visiting her or doing whatever it was dutiful fiances were supposed to do, and had all the right reassurances about how she was faring generally, but was still fretful over how things were going in public. Yes, that was the right tact — how is she in public. "We haven't been out, together since — so I just wondered —"
Set by Lady!