“You have ink on your cheek,” he noted softly.

She glanced at his dirty hands. “That’s your fault. I hope it washes off.”

“It should.” He stared at her as though trying to puzzle her out. “When I was first introduced to you last Season, I thought you were the picture of the wilting wallflower. But you’re not, are you?”

“I thought I was,” she said, nearly as puzzled as he was.

“But not with me?”

“Not with you,” she agreed.

“Probably because I’m so unimpressive.”

“Most likely,” she said.

And after a heartbeat, they smiled at the same time.”