[Well, at least the uncle's blundering doesn't seem to run to all of the bloodline, he notes with some approval as he silently watches her until she gives the signal that it's safe to talk. And this is certainly an amusing way to spend the afternoon, albeit not precisely the way he'd envisioned it going when he was on his way over earlier.

His smile, if you could call it a smile, is vague — not quite there on his lips, but somehow discernible from his overall expression, and the light in his eyes. In his youth, his nursemaids had constantly bemoaned this tendency to his mother, fretting over how he never smiled no matter what they tried; more recently, his sole friend and companion had remarked with humor that it would take a natural disaster, some act of God, or the very fall of the Crown to provoke a smile from him.

Miss Audrey Horne is neither a natural disaster nor an act of God, but he can almost imagine her bringing down the monarchy in one way or another, and that's amusing.]

At the risk of being forward, Miss Horne, I admit I wonder just how much my impression of you really matters to you. [A pause.] Coincidentally, I could say the same about your opinions on the prospect of marriage.

[Well, if she's going to be reckless, then he'll be blunt. They're apparently showing hints of their true natures now, aren't they?]