He could have sworn she was disappointed at his dismissiveness – but that would have meant she had meant it sincerely. Kristoffer had always supposed half of what young ladies said, what girls were taught to do, was pure waffle, designed to sound coy and coquettish at once. They didn’t mean any of it, did they?

And see, she was hardly lacking in wit – her tone, when she responded, was as airy as it had ever been. It was an invitation that may nor may not materialise, but Kristoffer had expected that. She was being nice to him because he’d helped her out of a bind today. That was probably all, and he’d be a fool to get his hopes up about it.

But she was doing them both a favour by not forcing him to mingle at the Dashwoods’ tent, so Kris shot her a sincere little grin for that. “No debt,” he answered easily. “I’ll call us even,” he said, giving her a conspiratorial, mischievous look back, to express that on balance, he’d probably had some making-up-for-himself to do to even the scales. (And – his grin went a little secretively crooked – the walk back had proven enough reward for the earlier intervention, though he certainly wouldn’t say it.) “Just this once. But next time, you’ll owe me.”

Kristoffer was quite sure there would be a next time, one way or another.

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