“Who asked her to dance, an ogre?” Kristoffer said with a loud scoff of laughter, although it was mostly to himself. Miss Whitledge was friends with Frida, yeah, whatever; his wit would be wasted on her.
“But I won’t judge you on your siblings if you won’t judge me on mine,” he drawled, because between her brother and her odd working sister, Miss Darling hardly had stellar relatives to recommend her. “What shall we do in the meantime, then?” He asked, raking his gaze over her as if Miss Whitledge desired nothing more than to spend as much of the evening as possible in his company. (Who in their right mind wouldn’t?)
“But I won’t judge you on your siblings if you won’t judge me on mine,” he drawled, because between her brother and her odd working sister, Miss Darling hardly had stellar relatives to recommend her. “What shall we do in the meantime, then?” He asked, raking his gaze over her as if Miss Whitledge desired nothing more than to spend as much of the evening as possible in his company. (Who in their right mind wouldn’t?)
