Vera stood at the top of the grand staircase of her family’s residence, her gloved hand resting delicately on the banister. The soft rustling of her emerald-green dress, perfectly tailored to accentuate her slender figure and complement her fiery red hair, was the only sound accompanying her descent. She could hear her mother’s hushed excitement, and she could see the opulent carriage through the window, waiting like a dark specter.

As the servant’s voice rang out, the door opened before her allowing her to exit into the street, her mother and the two lady's maids in tow. The footman announced her. Vera took a deep breath, pasted on a serene smile, and began to descend the front steps of their grand townhouse.

She knew exactly who awaited her. Mr. Alastair Rosier, heir to the Rosier estate, was the epitome of everything she found dull and uninspiring in the world. She had met him a handful of times, always finding his company stifling and his demeanor excessively formal - like almost every pureblood heir that graced the London social scene - so very full of their own importance.

As she reached the bottom of the stairs, her eyes met his. He looked as impeccably groomed as ever, his silken cravat perfectly arranged, his dark hair slicked back. Vera had no doubt he viewed this outing as nothing more than a tedious duty and she wondered if his family steered the tiller of his actions as closely as her mother steered hers.

Vera stepped forward gracefully, her head held high. “Mr. Rosier,” she said with a polite nod, her voice steady and composed despite the churning in her stomach. “A pleasure to see you again.” she curtsied low, her swan pale neck bent, the two red curls cascading over her shoulder. Her mother didn't need to clear her throat, Vera could feel the action subconsciously, "Thank you for your kind invitation today, I'm sure it will be most interesting" she smiled her most flattering smile.

The valet and servants moved efficiently around them, ensuring everything was in place for their departure.