At this point, and quite sadly, anyone with a pulse would do really. And plenty of money, the right kind of background, and no known skeletons in the cupboard, of course, but she was willing to be flexible on the skeletons if necessary. (And the background if she was being honest, but the monetary aspect was absolutely non-negotiable.)

“Sometimes it seems as though there are no decent ones left,” she admitted with a small sigh. Almost every man she had ever spoken to had made there was to the altar over the last few years which left her with what? Widowers with brats in tow mostly.

“There’s always Charles Macmillan, I suppose,” she said, before laughing cattily. “Though he seems far more suited to-” She stopped herself just in time. She had just promised to be nice, it wouldn’t do to fail straight away. “Someone else.”

---

time of death: when MJ dropped this heart-stopping set