Vera’s heart sank slightly as Mr. Travers intruded. She composed her features into a polite, if slightly distant, smile as Mr. Travers spoke, his voice grating against the subtlety of the moment they had shared. The possessiveness with which he laid claim to Mr. Griffith was not lost on her, and it took all of Vera’s practiced restraint to suppress a flash of irritation. As Mr. Griffith was led away, she caught his gaze, and the regret in his eyes mirrored her own - an amusing companion lost. Typical.

Her fingers instinctively tightened around the small metal card he had given her earlier, feeling the cool surface through the fine fabric of her glove. The card was a promise, an invitation that lingered in the space between them even as he was pulled away. It was a reminder that, despite the intrusion, their conversation was not truly over—it was simply paused, with the potential to be resumed in a more fitting setting.

She gave a small nod to him before he was pulled away into the crowd.

Turning away from the direction in which Mr. Griffith had been taken, Vera took a deep breath and rejoined the flow of the soirée.