Her godmother had neglected to tell her of Mr. Prewett's coming Malou realized, she wouldn't have put it past the woman to have organized the whole thing. It explained the insistence, the gown, the hair, all of it. Typically Malou might have been annoyed, but this time...

"No, it is quite alright." Malou's quiet voice floated from her. Her fingers slid down her skirts smoothing them to give attention to something other than him. She met his eyes as she added, "I just didn't expect company." Had it been someone other than Mr. Prewett she might have cut her godmother a look at this, but she found she could hardly keep from looking at him, relieved that he seemed to be alright.

"Good," Mrs. Bagshot bustled back into the conversation, "Good." The door opened again and Mr. Bagshot strolled in nodding at the assembled party, Malou suspected that he had been told to come in at precisely that time. "If you'll excuse me, I must steal my wife away for a moment." Before Malou or Mr. Prewett could say a thing Mrs. Bagshot was cutting in, "If you'll excuse us a moment." Then as if a queen of her own kingdom the woman rose and bustled to see her husband by the piano that was nestled in the corner. Leaving Malou blinking slightly at the obvious plot afoot.

But how could Mrs. Bagshot think that Malou even had a chance with Mr. Prewett? She certainly had no fortune, nor the reputation that might be expected of his future bride. Come to think of it, why was he here at all? She had brought nothing to him except injuries and mishaps. It hardly mattered that the mere thought of him had distracted her for days, but she supposed that had more to do with suffering a traumatic event with him than any real (and probably misplaced feelings). Perhaps that was why he was here, to make it clear that they had simply saved each other and nothing more. Unsure of what to do with this particular realization Malou looked down at the soft satin lines of her gloves, trying to keep as still as possible.