"White on ice wouldn't make me any more handsome, though," he pointed out cheerfully. "I might still lose out to a well-equipped gentleman with a stronger chin." He swirled the wine around in his glass, a bit too wide for the motion to be considered graceful — the liquid swirled nearly to the rim before sloshing back down.

"I might crash a boat," he put in. For the joviality of his tone he might have just as easily been saying I might pick a plum to eat. "But not until tomorrow. It's only the yacht race today. Were you going to sign up for the yacht race?" he asked, with a curious look. He hadn't expected many women to be going. Well, normal women, anyway — his sisters and their friends were a different variety.

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