Something had shifted again, in their conversation or the moment she glanced out at the ballroom and looked back, somehow different, that quite convinced Endymion the answer he had given had been wrong. Or that the question she had posed hadn’t been meant to be answered at all.
Too late, he had answered it and perhaps misstepped, and for all her wit he had just remarked upon, Miss Potts was playing games no longer: she had been pure politeness, and called it kind. He could have fallen back on the question of fashionable languages, and almost opened his mouth to – but she had looked out at the room, which he could only interpret as her wishing for an escape. Which was – fine. He could hardly be disappointed if this wasn’t how she meant to spend the entire evening. He hadn’t meant to spend his time hiding behind a floral arrangement either.
“Well,” he said lamely, trying to think of a suitable excuse for parting ways to let her get on with her evening and struggling to come up with anything; it was as if his brain was blank. “I suppose I...”
Too late, he had answered it and perhaps misstepped, and for all her wit he had just remarked upon, Miss Potts was playing games no longer: she had been pure politeness, and called it kind. He could have fallen back on the question of fashionable languages, and almost opened his mouth to – but she had looked out at the room, which he could only interpret as her wishing for an escape. Which was – fine. He could hardly be disappointed if this wasn’t how she meant to spend the entire evening. He hadn’t meant to spend his time hiding behind a floral arrangement either.
“Well,” he said lamely, trying to think of a suitable excuse for parting ways to let her get on with her evening and struggling to come up with anything; it was as if his brain was blank. “I suppose I...”
