He said oh, well, as if he was struggling to come up with anything pleasant to say. The delay was only a moment, but Henrietta noticed it. She had been so carefully instructed to never let such a delay occur in her own speech, and really there was only one polite thing to say in response. It wasn't that he was struggling to come up with the sort of pleasant banalities that the situation required; he was doing this on purpose. Merlin, how infuriating he was — this was supposed to be a moment where he paid her a compliment, and he'd managed to turn even this around into another assertion of how much better he was than everyone else.
The fire display. Henrietta smiled at this, her grin wide and genuine if perhaps a little manic. Well, the thing he liked best about the evening was the fire display — and what would her mother or sisters have had to say about that? Not that Henri was planning to recount this conversation to them, of course, but she felt triumphant all the same. "Those were my idea," she said smoothly, as though they had been an idea at all, rather than a spontaneous disaster. "I enjoy the symbolism." This was offered without further explanation — she herself did not entirely know what she meant by it, but felt it was a mildly provocative thing to say — the sort of thing that would have appalled her mother — and she wanted to provoke him a bit, to see if she could knock that stupid smug smirk off of his face only for a moment.
"I'm sure he'll recover," she continued, regarding the man who had caught on fire. Really, she had little sympathy; no one could have suffered more badly than she had during the moment the primroses had ignited, she was fairly certain, and anyone who was here in the first place could afford to replace a suit.
The fire display. Henrietta smiled at this, her grin wide and genuine if perhaps a little manic. Well, the thing he liked best about the evening was the fire display — and what would her mother or sisters have had to say about that? Not that Henri was planning to recount this conversation to them, of course, but she felt triumphant all the same. "Those were my idea," she said smoothly, as though they had been an idea at all, rather than a spontaneous disaster. "I enjoy the symbolism." This was offered without further explanation — she herself did not entirely know what she meant by it, but felt it was a mildly provocative thing to say — the sort of thing that would have appalled her mother — and she wanted to provoke him a bit, to see if she could knock that stupid smug smirk off of his face only for a moment.
"I'm sure he'll recover," she continued, regarding the man who had caught on fire. Really, she had little sympathy; no one could have suffered more badly than she had during the moment the primroses had ignited, she was fairly certain, and anyone who was here in the first place could afford to replace a suit.
