Beckett was not excited for the upcoming season, but he was resigned to it. With his thirty-sixth birthday passed, he supposed it was time. It still sort of terrified him, even if he felt more resigned than anything else. His mother was certainly taking the news well. He wondered just how nervous it made her that he was approaching forty and still unsettled. If all went well, at least he could take that worry off her plate.

Tonight's venture was interesting to say the least. He wasn't quite sure what to make of it, but he was amused if nothing else. Beckett had always been a patron of the arts, even if it was not always straightforward (or in his case, proper). After stepping off the dance floor with a Miss Ladyworth, Beckett was pleased to have made it out with the use of his fingers. She had quite the grip on his hand and he wasn't sure if she was nervous or uncoordinated, or both, but he flexed his fingers, regardless.

"Oh my chances are high then," Beckett nearly rolled his eyes at June, but managed to keep it to a low chuckle. "It is my intent to marry this year, or have you not heard?" At least that was what the rumors fluttering about society were saying. The success of the endeavor remained to be seen. He then smirked as he plucked the sandwich from her fingers and ate it himself. "Delicious indeed." He chuckled as he picked up a glass of wine to wash it down with.