Beauty was certain she'd heard him wrong, so she dismissed the muttering outright. If he wanted her to hear it properly, he wouldn't have covered it up with a second sentence. And that second sentence sounded just about right for a nobleman to say. They truly didn't do much except politicking.
"Are you a lord, then?" she asked carefully. It was odd that he wouldn't have introduced himself like that, but she'd known some odd lords in her time. Some of them demanded to be called by their full titles at every chance. Some of them preferred not to be called by a title at all. She liked the latter ones better. And she found herself liking Monsieur (Lord) Crowley as well.
"That sounds rather good," she said, to be certain that - if he were a lord - she didn't just force him into admitting something he clearly hadn't wanted to admit before. She should have thought about that before she asked her thoughtless question. Dealing with nobility was never one of her strong suites. "'Lord Crowley'," she said, testing the title out in the air. "Yes, I think it sounds very fine, very fine indeed."
Although she hadn't been guiding them down their walk, and although she hadn't asked to go toward that cottage across the park, it seemed that they were heading that way. Or perhaps it seemed closer to them than it had before. Now, there was an odd thought. Why would she think like that? -- Well, because it seemed that way. But such an odd thought! She frowned at her fanciful flights of imagination. Of course the cottage couldn't have sprouted legs and walked toward them while they weren't looking. That was just foolishness.
But could swear that it was closer. They must have just been closer. That was all. She turned her eyes back, then, to Monsieur Crowley, to hear if he'd admit to being royalty or not.