He didn’t even mind being sociable, really, but Savino pitied anyone stuck in the circuitous, circular existence of society season after season - people aimed for marriage, and then returned to standing on the sidelines and nothing ever really changed or evolved or - mattered, even.

But as long as they were happy living it, he supposed. He certainly wouldn’t be pleased to see the calendar filling up, but knowing Lucretia Zabini it soon would. Perhaps he could stretch out his time back in Italy this summer, show Ruby the sights and then make his excuses to his parents - or travel somewhere else. “Well, as I hear it you’re one of the most eminent hostesses in London,” he offered (which he fancied was a slight exaggeration, but in the interests of keeping things cordial it seemed worth saying anyway). “So you must have good judgement on parties - you’ll have to warn me which spring events aren’t worth attending.”

He was joking again, had no expectation that she would - because forcibly polite public conversations was about the best the family could do - but as he spoke he caught sight of his mother in the crowd, coming slowly this way, and on the word warn nodded furtively in her direction.

To spare Camilla that encounter, sure; but also to give himself time for a getaway.

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