She had no idea whether he had actually marked her for a Ravenclaw or that was just something he had said after the fact – who didn’t want to seem smarter than they were, and right about little meaningless things like that? (Well, maybe just a Ravenclaw, but anyway.)
Mattie just about refrained from rolling her eyes at the fear he was going to explain what a wager was to her – and she knew young ladies were hardly expected to make wagers, in their day to day, but they certainly still knew the logic of them! – but at least Mr. Knight did not succumb to a lengthy lecture on the subject, and instead indulged her. (There was not much appropriate that a woman could ask for, even couched in the excuse of a betting prize – maybe especially couched in the excuse of a betting prize – so she had already strategised that there would be a higher stake in whatever he suggested.)
And she had to admit an eyebrow had arched up ever so slightly at first hearing the suggestion, her mind reading the illicit into it, though she doubted even the biggest cad at the party would have said as much with a straight face. (And of course he hadn’t meant that, and if anyone knew what Mattie had been thinking instead, she would be ostracised from polite society in a heartbeat. Her father would have disowned her at once, if he had not had an aneurysm from the mere thought first.)
But he was only offering his hotel suite, and not himself included in it – Mattie had to suppress her smirk harder than ever, to look as charmingly guileless as she ought – though one might call this a little forward in itself. Or – a kind of masculine boasting, she supposed. No doubt he was rich, and used to throwing his money around. If she wagered anything, she would wager that Mr. Knight was an eldest son. (A good catch. For someone interested in fishing for husbands, that was.) And he mightn’t undertake to trouble her propriety, but Mattie could imagine quite the scandalous evening of lounging in a well-stocked suite, gorging herself splendidly on champagne and strawberries, so much so that it was almost a pity if one didn’t have company.
“Chivalrous, indeed,” Mattie merely remarked, showing amusement rather than shock at the suggestion, and making every effort to take it in stride. “Well, we had both best hope I lose the maze race, else wherever will you sleep tonight?” She was entirely teasing, naturally, as if he would ever be left out in the cold; of course he could always go home, wherever he lived. He probably had more than one abode, if he were as wealthy as he sounded; and perhaps many a warm bed elsewhere waiting for him. (That was what unmarried men did, wasn’t it? She had heard the whispers of a bachelor’s common vices, however blind young ladies were supposed to be such things as the existence of harlots and mistresses. Mattie had never thought seriously on the cause of suffrage, but on the hushed universality that a young man, upon graduating, must go out in the world and find his freedoms, indulge his passions, sow his wild oats as they said, when they supposed innocent young ladies were not listening at the door... well, she privately felt that a little unfair. What she would not have given to be afforded all the blank slates and open doors of a charming young rake.)
So jest about it was all she could really do. And indeed she could hardly stay at the room, however grand the Destiny Hotel was, and however she might have enjoyed it – her father would never approve of her accepting such an offer. It was not ladylike. Nothing fun ever was.
But the dance had ended, so at least she had the prospect of a competition to be won and lost to entertain her for the time being. “Come along, then, Mr. Knight,” she intoned, letting him take her arm to move towards the entrance to the mirror maze at the end of the room, although she was perhaps now leading with brisk strides. “I hope you’re not too afraid of your own reflection.” She laughed merrily, tossing him a look – she could not think that he would be, whether he was in costume or not. There was not much to complain about, from what she could see. “I’ll see you on the other side?”
Mattie just about refrained from rolling her eyes at the fear he was going to explain what a wager was to her – and she knew young ladies were hardly expected to make wagers, in their day to day, but they certainly still knew the logic of them! – but at least Mr. Knight did not succumb to a lengthy lecture on the subject, and instead indulged her. (There was not much appropriate that a woman could ask for, even couched in the excuse of a betting prize – maybe especially couched in the excuse of a betting prize – so she had already strategised that there would be a higher stake in whatever he suggested.)
And she had to admit an eyebrow had arched up ever so slightly at first hearing the suggestion, her mind reading the illicit into it, though she doubted even the biggest cad at the party would have said as much with a straight face. (And of course he hadn’t meant that, and if anyone knew what Mattie had been thinking instead, she would be ostracised from polite society in a heartbeat. Her father would have disowned her at once, if he had not had an aneurysm from the mere thought first.)
But he was only offering his hotel suite, and not himself included in it – Mattie had to suppress her smirk harder than ever, to look as charmingly guileless as she ought – though one might call this a little forward in itself. Or – a kind of masculine boasting, she supposed. No doubt he was rich, and used to throwing his money around. If she wagered anything, she would wager that Mr. Knight was an eldest son. (A good catch. For someone interested in fishing for husbands, that was.) And he mightn’t undertake to trouble her propriety, but Mattie could imagine quite the scandalous evening of lounging in a well-stocked suite, gorging herself splendidly on champagne and strawberries, so much so that it was almost a pity if one didn’t have company.
“Chivalrous, indeed,” Mattie merely remarked, showing amusement rather than shock at the suggestion, and making every effort to take it in stride. “Well, we had both best hope I lose the maze race, else wherever will you sleep tonight?” She was entirely teasing, naturally, as if he would ever be left out in the cold; of course he could always go home, wherever he lived. He probably had more than one abode, if he were as wealthy as he sounded; and perhaps many a warm bed elsewhere waiting for him. (That was what unmarried men did, wasn’t it? She had heard the whispers of a bachelor’s common vices, however blind young ladies were supposed to be such things as the existence of harlots and mistresses. Mattie had never thought seriously on the cause of suffrage, but on the hushed universality that a young man, upon graduating, must go out in the world and find his freedoms, indulge his passions, sow his wild oats as they said, when they supposed innocent young ladies were not listening at the door... well, she privately felt that a little unfair. What she would not have given to be afforded all the blank slates and open doors of a charming young rake.)
So jest about it was all she could really do. And indeed she could hardly stay at the room, however grand the Destiny Hotel was, and however she might have enjoyed it – her father would never approve of her accepting such an offer. It was not ladylike. Nothing fun ever was.
But the dance had ended, so at least she had the prospect of a competition to be won and lost to entertain her for the time being. “Come along, then, Mr. Knight,” she intoned, letting him take her arm to move towards the entrance to the mirror maze at the end of the room, although she was perhaps now leading with brisk strides. “I hope you’re not too afraid of your own reflection.” She laughed merrily, tossing him a look – she could not think that he would be, whether he was in costume or not. There was not much to complain about, from what she could see. “I’ll see you on the other side?”
