He lifted his brows. “Are you quite serious?”

She looked at him as though he were daft. “My mother was beautiful. As is my brother.”

Now it was his turn to interrupt with a snort of laughter. “I’m sure your brother greatly appreciates being called that.”

“Oh, he knows he is. And he’s made a living from it.”

“I suppose his musical talent had nothing to do with that?”

She finally leaned back a bit in her chair, and her smile went light and bright. Interesting—speaking of her brother made her relax. “His talent made him a professional violinist. His beauty made him a celebrity.”

He chuckled, since that was probably true. “And you think you bear no resemblance to him?”

“I know I don’t. I take after my father.”

The professor whose work had apparently brought enemies down upon them at the start of the war. He lifted his cup again and saluted her with it. “Well, I’ll have to respectfully disagree on the beauty question, and I daresay many other men do too. But if romance is of no interest to you, then I suppose our opinions don’t matter.”

“Not in the least.” She tilted her head to the side, apparently unaware of how it lengthened her neck and made her jawline look so fetching. “And why are you even saying such things?”

Never in his life had he met anyone quite like Margot De Wilde. Drake took another sip of his tea to give himself time to school his lips. “It’s called flirting.”

She stiffened again. “But . . . why?”

“Because you’re intelligent. And you’re beautiful. And you’re interesting.”

And baffled, apparently. Which only made her all the more interesting. She shook her head. “But to what purpose? Is it meaningless, to pass the time? In which case, I’d rather talk about something else. Or are you angling for a fleeting amorous encounter? Because I’m not the type. And if you’re interested in courtship, you ought to know now that I have no intention of marrying.”

He studied her over the rim of his cup. She looked completely serious. “Ever?”

“Not for the next decade, at the very least. I have plans.”

“Mm.” He ought to call his interest ill-advised and leave it at that, then. He was in no great rush to find a Mrs. Elton, especially while the war dragged on, but he certainly didn’t mean to wait another decade to do so. But still . . . puzzling her out would prove an entertaining distraction while he was laid up. “University, Dot said. What then?”

“A professorship, ideally.”

Drake couldn’t keep his brows from drawing together. “I’ve never known of a female professor.”