"I understand," she said thoughtfully. "And no, she isn't hard to get along with... she is just......." she paused for a moment to think of the correct word. "She is just eccentric, but I have the feeling you already know that about her." Amelia smoothed her hands over the fine skirt of the evening gown she wore, ignoring the way her bustle made it near impossible to sit sometimes. "Parties aren't for me either. I would rather be upstairs with a good book. Miss Harlowe said it was poppycock to hide away."

"I actually know very little of Miss Harlow," Quentin admits. "Which may be why my attempt at a joke at her expense fell so flat." Considering she'd taken it seriously rather than laughing he could tell that he'd missed the mark. "As for me, I would much rather be..." Well, there were many things he'd rather be doing but at this time of night? "Perhaps at a local pub soaking in the culture, at least at this time of day. If it was earlier I think I would be on the deck of a ship exploring the local waters. I've heard interesting things about what can be found in this town."

She had, indeed, missed the joke in her mistress' expense. But then again, she wasn't one who often caught on to when someone was joking. "Ahh, so how do you know her, then?" she asked in curiosity, peering at him. She folded her hands in her lap as she regarded him, the chill in the air starting to seep in through her gown. She should have grabbed her wrapper, but she hadn't planned on being outside for very long to begin with.

"Well without meaning to sound too full of myself it is more she knows me than I know her. I have some vague recollection of meeting her at a party a few years ago but it doesn't go further than that. However, I am the Marquis of Edenhall so when she here's I am in town sending me an invitation to her party is a matter of course. By the same token when in a new town people with titles like mine must attend at least a handful of social gatherings like this. It is the minor inconvenience that title and wealth places upon you that some of my peers act as though it equates to hardships of poverty." He says with a snort. He knew more than a few of his peers who complained that great privilege coming with responsibility was some terrible curse. Claiming they wished they had been born with the freedom of the peasant caste when they didnt realize how much more restrictive that was.

"I see," she said. Such high demands for the aristocracy, she thought with a little bit of a grimace. Of course, she wouldn't know of such demands. This was the first party she had ever attended, obligated of course because she was being paid to sit with the mistress of the house. He was from a different world than she was, that was glaringly obvious. She felt even more like she didn't belong, especially in a gown. "I don't understand the need for these parties, but to each their own I suppose."

That gets a laugh from Quentin. "There is no need to these parties my dear. They are an excuse for the rich to show off to other rich, thus forming business connections to be used to make them more rich." It was clear from the snort and amused grin he gives her that he finds the entire thing incredibly silly. She may not have belonged due to lack of money and breeding but he did not belong by choice.

She tilted her head at his laugh and then gave a smile because while they were both from different worlds, they had the commonality of not belonging in a place like this. She stood and turned toward him, satin rustling as she took a few steps. "My name is Amelia Mason. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

"Quentin North, sir if you must just Quentin if you please." He says extending his hand to her. "A pleasure indeed Miss Mason."

She took his hand and shook it gently but with a surprisingly firm grip. He may or may not feel the callouses that marred otherwise smooth skin that let him know she was most certainly not of the gentry. She smiled his way and said, "And you may call me Amelia if it pleases you. I never did like formal titles."

"I can't say I have much care for them either." Quentin says with a soft chuckle as he releases her hand. "They are, far too often, used to enforce another persons place in the world rather than as a mark of respect as they should be intended." He chuckles as he takes a breath of the cool night air and sighs. "I suppose we are going to have to head back in soon."