“Then I pity you,” she replied with a smile.
“I should value your pity more highly if you did not look so entertained,” he said in mock offense.
“Was it that obvious?” She blushed a little, yet strangely enough, she didn’t seem to mind. “That was unfortunate of me.”
“It was cruel,” he told her with equal amusement.
“Oh, well, now I am quite sure you exaggerate.”
“Not at all. I have spent the greater part of the evening being shown women like samples of ribbon.”
Aurelia’s mouth trembled, remembering her own thoughts on the matter. “And did any of the ribbons suit your taste?”
For some inexplicable reason, she wanted the answer to be no.
He let out a breath that was nearly a laugh. “None.”
“Not one?” she replied, hiding the unwanted relief that washed over her.
“Miss Finch, if you ask in that tone, I shall be obliged to think you mock me.”
“Would that be very dreadful?”
“Not if you continue to do it so well.”
She looked down then, pretending to have a greater interest in the stem of her glass than it deserved. It was becoming too easy to speak to him. That was the difficulty. She should not enjoy it so much.
Still, after a pause, she continued. “I confess I could not help observing that you seemed … overwhelmed.”
“Overwhelmed?” he replied, tasting the word as if he didn’t know its true meaning until that moment.
“Very.”
He lowered his voice. “Well, to be quite honest, I have no intention of marrying.”
The firmness of it surprised her. “None at all?”
“None. And certainly not one of those.”
He gave the slightest tilt of his head toward the bright little flock across the room. “Parrot women.”
Aurelia looked up sharply, then laughed before she could stop herself.
“Parrot women?”
“They are all feathers, color, noise, and display.”
She liked his comparison, although she would never admit it aloud. “Isn’t that a bit severe?”
“It is very exact,” he replied matter-of-factly.
“It is not their fault if they have been taught to ornament themselves,” she reminded him.
“No. Only mine if I am expected to admire it.”
There was enough sincerity beneath the dry tone to make her smile linger. She had never been one for bows and feathers, nor for the entire hopeful pageantry of looking fashionable enough to secure admiration. It was pleasant, in fact, it was more pleasant than it ought to have been, to hear another person confess indifference to it all.
“So … you disapprove of ornament,” she mused more to herself than to him.
