Yes; Mr. Twilwell's a better prospect!

"Welcome to Highbury, Mr. Brightson," Anne says with a smile. "If you'll excuse me, I'm afraid I must go consult a friend about something for a moment."

"Of course!" Mr. Brightson gives her the smallest of bows and a smile. "Don't let me detain you. Lovely to meet you, Miss Foxhaven." Anne sees Rebecca raise a brow and smirk slightly as she departs, but she's not bothered by it - she's determined to get to spend some time with Mr. Twilwell.

She makes her way across the room and lingers near Twilwell long enough for him to notice her and make the first move. "Ah, Miss Foxhaven," he says {if Twilwell-Anne < 1}coolly{else}with a smile{endif} when he spots her. "Delighted to see you again. How have you been? {if Twilwell-Rebecca > 5}How's your sister, Rebecca?"

Anne smiles, though she feels an unexpected pang of jealousy at this good-looking man's first question being to ask about Rebecca, specifically. "She's well, sir. {else}How are your sisters?"

Anne smiles. "They're all well, sir. {endif}I'm sorry to be seeing you under such regrettable circumstances, but glad to be seeing you at all."

"Quite, quite. In fact, running into you here is rather fortuitous - I was thinking just the other day what a delight you and your sisters are, and that I must invite the whole family over to Applethorpe sometime soon for dinner. The place is almost completely decorated now, and I find myself wanting for company!"

"I'm sure that if you choose to extend an invitation, we would be delighted to attend," Anne says, heart racing. A private invitation! Surely that's a good sign. Twilwell smiles at her, but he looks slightly strained, glancing nervously about the room. "Are you...well, sir?" Anne asks gently.

"I, er...well, not exactly, Miss Foxhaven," Twilwell says with a sigh. "I find receptions such as these...funerals...the whole apparatus of death...rather unsettling. In truth, I have a bit of a phobia around it. To such an extent, in fact, that I've taken to a light bit of self-medication, though I rarely drink in my regular life." He takes a small, silver flask out of his inside pocket and, glancing around, takes a quick swig. Swallowing, he clears his throat and chuckles. "I'm sorry - I'm being impolite. Would you like some?"

Anne hesitates. He's probably partly jesting, but it would be rude to refuse if not...on the other hand, who knows what's in that flask!