Tonight's premise was a little dubious at best. Torie had never quite been one to get into the St. Valentine's spirit, but she supposed she didn't have much room anymore to turn down invitations, especially out of the season. She had donned a new dress in a shade of pink the modiste had called cherry blossom and headed off with her mother in tow. Pearls clung to hear ears and neckline in teardrop shapes and her hair swept back into something fashionable off her neck to show them off.

So far the evening had been fairly typical, a few dances with eligible bachelors that she saw at almost every event, though nothing ever came of it. She knew she was the youngest, but honestly at this point, one of them had to get married and it might as well be her. Unfortunately she did not see Mr. Echelon-Arnost in her wanderings, so she could not pester him about the latest book he'd given her to read. At least that had given her something more meaningful to do with her time, even if she could only do so in the privacy of her bedroom and not in the sitting room where she was doomed to piano forte and needlepoint.

At least she had found a couple of friend's to converse with to keep her occupied. She held a glass of champagne aloft, their discussion about the latest trend in hats so superfluous that she didn't need to strictly pay attention— that was until someone bumped into her and she nearly dropped the drink. She'd missed the sting in her shoulder, as it happened at the same time, but as she turned to find Mr. Danaher, Torie didn't have it in herself to be angry with him. "Are you quite alright, Mr. Danaher?" She asked instead, eyes curiously meeting his in concern.