"Vahelo," Ambar says, giving you an almost conspiratorial little smile. "I believe her exact words were 'an intelligent and upstanding lady'. Whatever did you do to leave such a good impression from so brief an acquaintance?"
You cast him a sidelong glance, keeping most of your attention on guiding your mount down the shallow slope ahead of you. "Nothing that would interest you at all, from what I've been told."
Ambar laughs, seemingly genuinely delighted. "Now, that's certainly fair enough. But from what I've been told of you, my lady, I might think that attention to such matters isn't what you'd seek in a man anyway."
You don't let your mouth twitch in amusement. "I may also look for some measure of discretion," you say instead.
"Well, of course," Ambar says, with surprisingly little resentment, "it's all well and good to be so blatant while I'm still young and unmarried, but trust me when I say I fully intend to allow whatever lucky woman I end up with full credit for finally 'taking me in hand' — I will certainly continue seeing to my needs, of course, but I am confident that I can do so without being an embarrassment to my spouse or our household. Although I doubt I'll go so far as to outright declare a lover sworn kin. Such a show of devotion is a little beyond my cold little heart."
You turn your head to consider him fully for a moment. He's too much of a stranger to you to be able to tell how sincere he's being, but if you were to marry a man already notorious for his conquests while in his twenties, his reforming his ways only after marrying you is certainly one way to make up for it. The remark about Maia is a little pointed, but hardly unfair, following your own jab. "And who could ever ask for more in a groom?" you say, voice bone dry.
"Well, I do bring intelligence, wit, and social connections as well," Ambar says, "but it's true, my unwillingness to maliciously cast doubt on my eventual wife's ability to control her own household is the best feature I'd bring to the table. For my sake as much as anything."
[...snip for space...]
You lean down, extending a hand to Ambar. "Can you walk?" you ask him.
"Not well, or with any dignity," he admits.
"Do I have your permission to carry you?" you ask, with as much gallantry as you can muster under the circumstances.
He sighs, accepting your hand. "Well, it does seem like the most practical solution, for the time being." You lift him up easily enough, carrying him in your arms without complaint as you begin to walk toward the loudest of the voices. "This would be disgustingly romantic, if we were different people, wouldn't it?" he asks.
You laugh again. "Yes. It would be."