With the Season just a couple of short months away, Torie was preparing herself to be fully invested; she needed to come out of this summer with some official attachment or she was likely to abscond to France to stay with family to see if she could have better luck there. Honestly though, it should not be this hard.

Tonight's fete was a good warm up. This branch of Pendergasts did not host often, so Torie was intrigued. She didn't think she'd ever been inside their house before, now that she thought about it. Aoife Pendergast was not the typical sort of society woman and Torie respected her for it. Still, she was curious enough to accept the invitation and had so far been pleased with the result. She wore a gown of green so dark it almost appeared black, except for in certain lights. It was a beautiful, flowing material that almost moved like water around her legs. All in all, it was perfect for the evening's theme.

Wary of the fortune teller's reading, Torie steered clear of the woman's table; she had no patience for hearing she was doomed or blessed or whatever it was the woman was going to spout at her about her luck this year. Surely it was all nonsense anyway. (Maybe she was a little afraid to hear what it might be, lest it be true.) Instead she'd take a couple of turns on the dance floor and was now nursing a glass of champagne in hand as she wandered toward the magically warmed garden. The fairy lights and ethereal glow were enchanting enough and Torie wished for summer weather now more than ever, even if the summer felt a bit daunting. She was going to be three-and-twenty in just a couple of months; she could not go unwed any longer. It was ridiculous.

As she was wont to do in moments of downtime, she was trying to figure out a plan to make this season more successful when she felt an abrupt nudge hit her right at the back of her knees, sending her careening forward, champagne lost over the railing as she went crashing into the person who had just come up next to her.