Vera smiled at his quipped retort about all good people coming with secrets. Well- wasn't that an interesting comment for a gent. Most gents, at least those in Vera's experience, liked to tell you everything at once, so that everyone knew how rich or clever they were right from the off. The idea that a gent might have secrets of his own was intriguing, the only man who had bothered to cultivate anything like an air of mystery had been Emrys Selwyn, but he had taken himself too seriously to have ever been anyone other than someone that she had rather enjoyed irking - and then he had gone off and married someone as boring as a widowed Hogwarts professor and ended any indication that he might be at all interesting.

Vera's mother had certainly opinions on why she had not agreed to court any of the gentlemen who had shown interest in her - and yes boring had been rather high up her list. She had no interest in being smothered by a man who needed Vera to make him interesting or provide him with interests of his own. Her musing as to what Mister Foxwood might find interesting or what he might fill his days vanished from her mind at his next question. Her green eyes flicked up rather suddenly to meet his - wondering if the question was a trap. Did she want a job? She didn't think anyone in her entire life had ever asked her that. The only 'job' that she was destined for was socialite, but her days were busy inspite of her lack of gainful employment. 'I ride, I have horses, and I manage their training and care' - this was an understatement. When not in town she was at the country home, riding and racing took up much of her country time, and her blood stock knowledge was superlative - she had even made a tidy sum in stud fees and race prizes.

Her fathers involvement in Quidditch, and her own interest in the sport kept her busy enough in the Quidditch season, although there was almost no need to mention the Blackwoods involvement in the sport, they had a box at almost every match in every stadium - and anyone deemed even remotely amusing was usually invited if not to the box, then almost certainly to the parties that were hosted afterwards. 'And I accompany my mother on her engagements' - a coy and suitably demure way of saying that she undertook the sort of suitable charity work that filled most socialites resumes.

'What of you sir?' she pressed him, 'what industry fills your hours? Is your home renovation a full time endeavor or are you political?' - political - a euphemism for the first born sons who had no need of work but wished to avoid an accusation of idleness, political aspiration was a safe association.

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