[She leans further forward, arms tucked in a fold beneath her for support, the smile spreading. Amused, charmed, despite her sensibilities; flattery which she takes to heart, masterful riding, and handsome dress! (Not that he is not handsome all the time, but his attire is very complimentary in every way.) There is something he is planning, she's quite sure.

It could be the ball. She dismisses that thought almost as immediately as it forms.

Then he actually invites her. To the ball. With him. With her. To the ball. Together.

His every action still continues to surprise her. She makes a lovely statue whilst she straightens - yes, of course she will, she will, of course - and then stops. She has her own mischief, her humour, a glint in her eye; why not respond in kind?]

I do remember such forevers, [she leans forward once again, smile fond, amused and light,] but those forevers do not provide me with a dress to wear for such a grand occasion. Look at you! Look at me! I would be dull at your side, dressed as you are-- [and the horse. Is he planning to bring the horse?] --there is no compare.

Yet, you are lucky that are those that would correct such a lack of foresight, which makes me free to attend. Which, I suppose, has us in agreement [do you see what she did there], for my reply will be... hmm. [She smiles properly.] Yes. Yes, I will. I would very much like to go with you, Scipio.