Feigning nervousness, Percy brought his hand to his cravat. "Do forgive me," he murmured, grinning the grin that he felt made him look his best nitwit-esque. Judging from her dress, her manner of speaking, and almost everything else about this woman, Percy understood that perhaps she was from a different era than himself. It would not surprise him at this point. "It is 1792. Was 1792."