Hermia felt the blood rush to her cheeks, though she met his gaze steadily. "Thank you," she said smoothly, tilting her head slightly. "It's always nice to be appreciated."
Before the man could respond, another voice joined the conversation. "It's not just appreciation—it's admiration," said a slightly older gentleman, his salt-and-pepper hair lending him an air of distinction.
He extended his hand. "I don't believe we've met. I'm Charles Renwick."
Hermia shook his hand politely, her mind racing. Renwick… one of the biggest investors in Dad's company?
She summoned a confident smile. "Hermia Blackwood," she said, her voice steady despite the rapid thrum of her heart.
"Ah, Blackwood," Charles said, a glint of recognition in his eyes. "I must say, you've certainly inherited a flair for making an impression."
"I do my best," she replied, keeping her tone light.
