A musketeer is nothing like the mysteries made of murder and scandal and delightful little twists and turns she usually dabbles in. At least, Phryne thought so, her finger idling along the petal-spiral at one side of the design. "How novel," she told him, her tone making it as much a compliment as the tip of her head made it flirtation. "So you've never had the pleasure of racing along the countryside with 120 horsepower at your command, what do you do for fun?"

It's a tease plain and simple, one measured for that curl of his lips and the none too wild leap to think a man with a rakish grin would be one who would enjoy such things. Naturally, if he weren't such a man, her interest would wane quickly, but that was still to be seen.