It has not occurred to Dorian, that the book within the woman's hand is something of a social symbol. That such a thing instigates a desire not to be approached without cause and yet within his day and time no such gesture had ever existed. A woman, perhaps, might wield a fan with enough skill to suggest much about her status and yet a book- Dorian is sure, remains decidedly out of place within the hands of a woman. For a moment his silvery-hued gaze lifts from her, following her own line of sight towards a small group of children and a rather towering young man engaged in some sort of chasing game a short distance away. Ah, perhaps she was merely watching over her child as he or she played. This perhaps, would explain her unaccompanied state in the park and yet it still did not explain much as to how it was she seemed to be reading, Dorian entirely content to simply ask outright as his status and position allowed him.

The woman shifted a moment, lifting herself up from the grass to stand before him, taking several steps back and yet truly Dorian hardly thinks anything of it. People rarely chose to stand close to him. After all, closeness indicated fondness or else intimacy and Dorian is content to afford such a thing to very few people. It is only as the young woman looks upward that the rather startling damage to her face becomes apparent, both eyes of the Fae widening slightly in rather evident surprise. Gracious! What a terrible thing to happen to a woman to have injured herself in such a manner as to damage her face, the very thing so assured to afford her a good husband! For half a moment Dorian near shifts in place, as if he intends to reach towards the woman before his own sense of decency halts his actions. She may not welcome his approach and King or otherwise he hardly intended to oppose upon her. Truly he almost feels....pity for her. He moves however, to avert his gaze from her scars all the same, quite content to continue as if he had never been startled by her appearance at all. It was a shame really, she would surely never marry with a face like that and yet if she had a child perhaps it hardly mattered. Perhaps she was married already. For now at least, he brushes the thoughts aside.

"School?"

The evident query in his voice is clear, accented words lilting his voice with each neat annunciation as his head tilts ever so slightly, brunette locks falling into his gaze, much of his hair having become streaked with blonde these past weeks spent in the sun. So many, many years without the full touch of the sun however had made the man almost wary of it's often oppressive heat upon his fair skin.

"We are from Italy. We do not have school, at least, we did not the last time I inquired. Is it only for woman?

It was possible, he supposed, that in the time he had been...away that some sort of female education system had developed. His sisters had forever begged him to share with them many of the things his own tutors had taught him and indeed Dorian had always held some inclination towards the belief that, despite what many said, women seemed as entirely capable of learning as their male counterparts. His own sisters fortunate were enough perhaps to have been educated in some things as was expected of a royal household and yet for anyone of common breeding and ability to read and write was decidedly unusual.

"We do know that book though. My female companion afforded me a copy of it some weeks ago. I do not dislike it. I do not understand all of it but I find it....interesting in the least. It appears to be about one woman's struggle with the issues of manners, marriage, morality and upbringing in the society of the landed gentry of the British Regency. To be honest I found the female characters more engaging then the male. I almost felt for Elizabeth and her dilemma. To be fair I felt for their mother also- so many unmarried daughters."

His words are nothing short of eloquent, Dorian simply having a manner of speaking that resulted as such. His language gentle all the same, affording the woman a soft smile although truly he finds he does feel for Mrs Bennet and her overly numerous amount of apparently unworthy to be married daughters. There was, in some degree he supposed, less pressure upon men.

"I did find Elizabeth somewhat....how you say.....unruly?"

He pauses briefly, one eye lifting upward, assuring he has the correct word. English, after all, is not his first language despite the fluency with which he speaks it. He remains where he is, making no attempt to press any further into the woman's space and yet his demeanour is entirely relaxed, the man finding himself curious of the woman all the same as he simply leans back upon the nearest tree with laconic ease in a manner Dorian truly excels at- arms folding across his chest. Lamenting finally.

"No one ever seems to be married anymore."

Dorian Aragona