Endymion could scarcely say what had caused her to imagine he had a devoted and deep, yearning interest in tea, but he listened along to the stream of description anyway, too relieved at having a subject at all to be truly puzzled about it. His mother might be interested to know; he may as well file away the information to tell her about one day, if she had not visited the teahouse in London.
That made sense, though, that she was a Miss Sprout of said Evergardens, and not just an unrelated obsessee. His mouth pulled up at one side, finally managing to shake his own chagrin, and return to proper civility – he was sure they both looked unfortunately rumpled now, and flustered to boot – but he ran a hand through his hair to tidy the curls and pulled at his collar to straighten it too, and smiled at her. “Dempsey,” he supplied. “Endymion Dempsey. I’m sure I’ve seen you at the greenhouse before,” from a distance, at least; or maybe she was only vaguely familiar from society, but he had visited Evergardens before, “so it’s nice to put a name to the face, and meet you. Ah, in spite of the – unusual circumstances.”
That made sense, though, that she was a Miss Sprout of said Evergardens, and not just an unrelated obsessee. His mouth pulled up at one side, finally managing to shake his own chagrin, and return to proper civility – he was sure they both looked unfortunately rumpled now, and flustered to boot – but he ran a hand through his hair to tidy the curls and pulled at his collar to straighten it too, and smiled at her. “Dempsey,” he supplied. “Endymion Dempsey. I’m sure I’ve seen you at the greenhouse before,” from a distance, at least; or maybe she was only vaguely familiar from society, but he had visited Evergardens before, “so it’s nice to put a name to the face, and meet you. Ah, in spite of the – unusual circumstances.”
