Alice is of age. She can drink if she wants to.

Rebecca stares at Alice for a long moment, then suddenly shakes herself. No, she realizes, she is not going to intervene. Alice is always doing things like this; if she feels a bit unwell later, that's entirely her own fault.

She turns back to Vickery with a smile. "I'm sorry, sir...I was momentarily distracted. You were saying?"

"Well, he says with a frown, "I'm...not actually sure." There's a brief pause, then he asks, "So...you appreciate the arts?"

"Indeed I do," Rebecca says with a smile. "I love painting, music...poetry especially. And you?"

"I do love a good painting," Vickery admits with the faintest hint of a smile. "Though I must admit I'm more drawn to sculpture. I've been collecting Italian marbles for a few years now."

Rebecca raises an eyebrow. "Indeed? That must be a -" expensive "-fascinating hobby. However did you begin such an undertaking?"

"Well, it wasn't very difficult. You see, I spent a great deal of time in Italy when I toured the continent six years ago - a wonderful country, and I grew acquainted with an art dealer there..."

As Vickery begins to wax poetic about the glories of the Italian art market, Rebecca sneaks another glance at Alice. She's already drained her second cup, it looks like. Rebecca sighs to herself. Well, if it looks like Alice is getting in serious trouble, she'll go get her out of it.

***

On the other side of the ballroom, Peggy is sipping idly from her punch cup and letting her eyes rove the room. She so loves parties, but whenever she gets separated from Alice, they're a little...well...it's hard for her to find her way through them, at times. Still - she squares her shoulders - she's a young woman, and it's time that she started striking out to approach people on her own. If Anne ever gets married, she'll be...well...third in line. Still; she'd like to meet a man, for the thrill of it if nothing else.

Letting her gaze wander, Peggy spots two men who seem to be momentarily alone: a red-coated army officer, a Captain if she's remembering the insignia correctly, with unruly dark hair and whiskers. There's also a slightly disheveled looking young man with a poof of untidy brown hair and a smirk on his lips, standing alone and sweeping the ballroom with his own eyes over the rim of his punch cup.