Perhaps it was rude not to invite Steve to sit, but Peggy had done enough in insisting he enter the room at all. If he wanted to stay on his feet, to have the ability to pace or move or avoid her gaze entirely, that was his choice. Here at the table, legs tucked beneath her chair and hands loose in her lap, she could play at a poise that was hard to maintain in the face of her own nerves. It was ridiculous to be wary of Steve. She'd never felt unsafe with him; worried for him, yes, and aware of his size and strength, sure, but never concerned she might be at all prey to his ability to turn predator.
Even now, she wasn't afraid. She was discomfited. Uneasy. He'd thrown her last night and she was trying to get feet beneath her again, to feel like they'd regained that easy place they'd always occupied courtesy of mutual respect and trust and regard for one another. Affection had come with time, and Peggy had been entirely honest (even anticipatory) when she'd spoken of hoping he would, sooner or later, as her out for dinner.
She watched him for a moment, gratified when he did choose to stop staring at his feet in favor of meeting her eyes. After a beat she even managed a smile, a little uptick of her lips that spoke of sympathy for how he'd probably managed to make an impression on more than one person last night. Tony was... actually not the worst she could've imagined. Maybe this would help both of them see the other as more similar and less of an antagonist. Maybe. "He didn't seem to be faring well last night either," Peggy murmured, shoulders hitching a little in a shrug. "If you were going to find company, he's not a bad choice. So far as understanding public intoxication goes, Tony is something of an expert."
Expression sobering again, she glanced aside. "If I hadn't come to check on you, you would've slept it off in your room. For that, I apologize. I shouldn't have stepped inside once I... once it became apparent you were retiring for the evening."