Tatiana had, briefly, considered sending her regrets to her sister-in-law, to tell the world she thought some other event far more exciting. She could not, however, abandon Tiberius to his wife's frivolities, and however begrudgingly, she had to admit that Antigone could throw a party.

In spite of her age, her dance card was reasonably full—the two appropriate dances with Mr. Macmillan, one with her cousin, and a number with those who likely sought to ingratiate themselves with her family. Of the names upon them, though, Mr. Enoch Rosier's shone quite brightly; in the event that Mr. Macmillan should ultimately prove wanting, the auror would be a fabulous alternative. After all, he was his father's heir, with no older brothers, nieces, or nephews to hinder his fortune. Still, as company went, he was rather more of an ass, though he was an excellent dancing companion.

"Of course, Mr. Rosier," she responded, offering him a gloved hand.