"Mr Slater, what a wonderful surprise." Harry said rather dryly, dropping the Hackney accent like the plague. "And dressed up in your Sunday best too." He smiled, and took another swallow of his wine. "And where is your good lady friend? Not turned her colours again and run away from you too?"
He set his glass down then, looking from father to daughter. "She is more than old enough to fight her own battles, Irving. Don't moddy-coddle her. We were simply having a chat about her evening out with Paddy. You know Paddy, don't you? Irish lad, likes to think he has a way with women."
"Oh, the lanky-haired Russian? I can't say I've spoken to him this evening. I'm here to see Lord Hurst. He and I have some business arrangements." He said with a small smile.