Alastair nodded along, already thinking about something else. They kept walking along the gallery. He told some things about the exhibits here and there. Then the outing drew to an end.

The entourage of servants and relatives filtered out of the museum into the street. The rain had not let up. Quickly, his valet cast a spell above their heads that protected them from the droplets.
As they waited for the carriage to be drawn out for them, Alastair looked up to the dark sky. Then he looked to his side, where Miss Ginevra stood.
Her ivory skin and red hair stood out of the drab pastiche of grey and darker greys around him, like someone had cut her out of someplace else. That was the one thing he had noticed, Alastair supposed. She stood out in her environment. Unlike Dorcas, who had been so pale, willowy, and fragile that her surroundings seemed to overtake her. They had swallowed her up as soon as she entered House Rosier.

Alastair knew that the servants would bring a favorable report to his father. He also knew that Mr. Rosier senior had excellent rapport with Mr. and Mrs. Blackwood. At the age of 23, they must surely want to see her married rather soon.
So maybe this would not take terribly long. Yes, he was quite sure. He would marry Ginevra Blackwood. He wondered then if she stood a chance in the shark-infested waters that were to become her new home.
For an instant, he almost pitied her. Then he thought that he hoped she wouldn't be too clever. That would make it harder to hide from her the life that he really led. But maybe she was.

The carriage arrived, and he helped her inside. He was quiet on the way back to their respective homes, lost in his thoughts.
“Until we meet again, Miss Ginevra”, he bid his goodbyes by taking her hand and bowing, as he had been trained to do. Then he was off.