A Woman Out of Time

Continued from here:

It was only a lifetime of mannerly training that kept Emily from frankly staring at the young man who approached her. His accent marked him foreign -- French, unless she missed her guess -- and he was quite honestly the most beautiful human she'd ever seen. It wasn't as though she'd never met an attractive man before, even quite aside from her admiration for Matt's looks, she could be quite objective about the relative good looks of Captain Becker, Connor Temple and even the rather despised Phillip Burton and her own unlamented husband. But this young man was something else entirely.

Out of pure habit, she responded with a modified curtsey, appropriate for a social inferior, given his youth. "Good afternoon, sir. I'm afraid that I'm well but a bit out of place. A young woman earlier attempted to explain to me what this place is and how I came to be here but I'm still somewhat at a loss as to what to do next. Shelter, I suppose, and appropriate attire." She shook her head. "My apologies, I appear to be unburdening myself on you most shockingly."

I responded with a bow accorded an equal, not knowing her own status, though such things seemed immaterial on the island. I must own, I was not particularly moved by the idea that most here did not care about me being a Prince of the Blood. "It's quite all right," I assured her. "Finding oneself here is a rather unsettling experience. My name is Imriel, and if you like I can show you to where you might find lodgings and clothing."

His bow was impeccable and quite proper, however much it put him at her equal, which raised Emily's eyebrows considerably. Curious to know more of the young man, she inclined her head and smiled, accepting his help. "Lady Emily Merchant. Your assistance would be greatly appreciated. There is rather a chill out today." An understatement, given her light clothing, but it did amuse her at least.