It had occured to Merek, whilst following his young companion out into the gardens, that perhaps it would've been best had he more fully realized the teachings of his father. Aristocracy was amusing, if not useful at times, but it seemed all to easy a thing to forget, having never been a concern. These English nobles, however, seemed all the more determined than even the French he so faintly remembered, in maintaining an air of superior civility, whether feigned or genuine.
What with the Aubert's being new to the country, it seemed he'd struck folly in his casual demeanor, much as he'd offended the companions of his Father's. At the very least, it was something to consider, if not for another evening.
Once they stood outside, however, these thoughts were forcefully banished, sent to the recesses of memory, available for future reference, but pertaining little to his current interesting.
He fished in his pocket for a brief moment, retrieving the small silk bag, and rolling the contents in a fine paper. The sharp smoke of a lit match, and he was carefully setting flame to the tip, exhaling half a breath of smoke, before offering it to her. Seemed only polite.
"Take it gently; I daresay it is quite the shock for the unfamiliar."