“Did he look at you as though he had forgotten the rest of London?”
“Eleanor!”
“What? It happens.”
Margaret felt heat stir under her collar but kept her expression steady. If she gave even the faintest suspicion that she thought highly of him, they would not let it go.
“He looked at me as one does during a conversation.”
“That tells us nothing,” Eleanor insisted.
Clara stirred her tea.
“Did he behave properly?”
“Yes.”
“That is disappointing,” Eleanor muttered.
Anne’s gaze sharpened slightly.
“Proper in what sense?”
“Pleasant,” she said.
There was a brief pause, then Eleanor’s eyes widened.
“Pleasant?”
“Yes.”
Clara leaned back in her chair, seemingly also aware of what Eleanor had noticed.
“You have never described a social obligation as pleasant.”
“That is not true.”
“It is.”
Margaret folded her hands loosely in her lap. She had to admit that her friends were right there.
“It was not an obligation.”
All four of them stilled at that. Eleanor’s expression softened into something dangerously delighted. Clara, more measured, studied her closely.
“You sound surprised about that.”
“I was.”
Beatrice leaned forward slightly.
“Surprised in what way?”
Margaret searched for language that did not betray more than she intended.
“He is not what I expected. The outing itself was not what I expected.”
“Well what did you expect? It was your first outing with one another, so you cannot have made too many assumptions.”
