The path was well shoveled and they made it to the Entrance to the greenhouse without problem. A wave of heat hitting them as they enter but the attendant, who recognizes Quentin, is quick to take their coats and they are offered a tour of the gardens with one of the resident botanists. Quentin glances to Clair to see if that is something she would be interested in.

She gave a nod to the men in affirmation of going on a tour. From there, it began, and she walked with him companionably through the greenhouse. "The heat reminds me of home," she said softly as they moved along.

"I have heard the American South can be quite humid." Quentin murmurs softly as they follow their tour guide. A man in his early forties with graying neatly kept hair dressed somewhere between a gardener and an academic. He was quite knowledgeable as he took them around to the various gardens talking about the regions and properties of the various plants.

She proved very interested in the plants as they took their tour. Claire'd lean in and smell a blossom here and there, and often times would look at Quentin with a soft smile. She was enjoying herself.

All told the tour took almost three hours and lead them back to the entrance of the garden. The nice older man, his had introduced himself as Mister Carlyle, informing them that they were free to tour the gardens alone until closing. Quentin looking her way. "A more leisurely stroll through the gardens?" He inquires. "Or would you like to do something else?" They were in London so they had a world of options for diversion.

"I wouldn't mind wandering around for a little while longer," she was definitely enjoying the warmth, having missed it in the time since she had arrived in England on a wet and cold day.

"Then lets another turn about the garden," Quentin says as he loops his arm with hers and sets them back down the gravel path that leads through the massive enclosed space.

She walked with him, feeling quite comfortable with walking with her arm linked through his. "It's beautiful here, Quentin," she said softly, eventually turning her attention to his and look up at him with adoration in her eyes. "Thank you for bringing me here." Claire turned to face him, pulling her arm free so her hand could move down to touch his.

"You are welcome." He says looking down at her smiling softly. "So." He says as they meander among the foliage. "You've spoken a bit of your father, what about your mother? Siblings?" He knew they'd touched on this before but he figured if he was to know her better he'd benefit by knowing a bit more of her family.

"My father is Bosco Devereaux, he married my mother, Diane. I have a brother, Bosco Jr. My parents own a hotel." She wasn't sure what to say about her brother. "Bosco is the manager," she said quietly.