Trevian grinned devilishly as he sipped from his glass. "You're the one jumping to conclusions about what I must have meant, Oscar, and that's hardly my fault."
The smile faded, then, when Oscar described the tears. He loved women -- each and every one -- and he hated to hear of them being upset enough to warrant tears. Oh, certainly, sometimes they burst into tears without any reason whatsoever, but, in this case, tears were certainly understandable.
"Amusing? Our family? What rumors has she been hearing, I wonder?" Because, typically, rumors involving the Treyburns were neither amusing, nor appropriate for the Grand Duchess's ear. But, then, perhaps she was just being polite...
"Well, Oscar, you've secured an introduction, in the very least, and that's better than the rest of us have done. Mother will dote on you tomorrow, I'm sure." He flashed his younger brother another grin as a figure in pink caught his eye -- a very angry lady, unless he missed his guess. "Although it seems you may have made an enemy of Lady Coleridge -- not difficult to do, I assure you. She quite frequently and loudly takes offense. She'll be glaring at you all night unless something is done." He set his emptied glass down on a passing tray with a soft clink. "I'll see if I can't convince her to forgive you. And, besides, I'd like to get in at least one dance before my face is too puffy and horrendous."
So saying, Trevian moved off into the crowd to speak to the lady in question, stopping before her with a bow as the second song of the evening began. "Would you care to dance, my Lady?"
Meanwhile, Oscar had scarcely been left alone for a moment before he was approached, rather boldly, by the Grand Duchess herself. "You look to be recovered," she observed with a charming, sophisticated smile. "And I see you've even managed to convince Lady Coleridge to return to the party. Well done."
