Half of Malou's attention remained on Mr. Prewett, the other half on the girl. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the movement of Mr. Prewett, but in front of her the girl was excusing herself and making her way to someone who Malou was sure would be infinitently more engaging than herself.

Would it be rude to thank him? Malou wondered. Sometimes around Mr. Prewett she forgot herself and joked with the same sense of humor she had with Fallon, but they hadn't seen each other since her godmother's dinner party earlier in the month and that ease, while lingering at the edges where Malou normally held her discomfort around those not in an intimate circle to herself, it did not seem to extend at first contact to her words.

Habitually Malou turned toward him and curtsied herself murmuring, "Good evening." out a habitually bore into her since the time she could speak.

"Not at all." She assured Mr. Prewett albeit with a bit more relief in her tone than she meant to reveal. The tension she had been holding as she looked for him seemed to melt away as he appeared. He looked handsome tonight and Malou was faced with the fact that even her memories of him paled in comparison. The memories, it ought to be mentioned, that she thought of much too often.

"How are you this evening?" As always Malou found herself worrying over him. Had he slept enough? Was he working too much? Had he managed to be injuried by party goer? This last one might have seemed a bit odd, but after the ball at Sanditon Resort Malou was quite certain she would never attend another ball without cataloging possible injuries - in particular to the gentleman before her. At least in this case politeness was a guise to mask her many worries.