Since it had been handed to him Enoch had found no need to glance at the pocket watch about his person: either it was faulty or, much more likely, he had done precisely what his hostess thought he ought to be doing in the pursuit of true love. Or at least in the pursuit of contentment in marriage, which was a much more elusive goal as far as he was concerned. He loved his sister, he respected his mother. That was more than enough giving of his admiration in his book and he had long since decided his wife need only look the part and come with an excellent name.

If she had money too that would be a boon, but he found the thought of a little gratitude more than appealing...

"Well hello," he muttered to himself as he pulled the pocket watch out and raised at eyebrow at it in bemusement. It was practically screaming at him, though no one else seemed able to hear it, and he glanced around, assuming his dance with Miss Fawley was now not to be. Glancing around, gin sling in hand - Merlin it was fucking disgusting - he looked for the likely candidate.