Given enough time to watch the occupants of the ball, June could list the number of times she’d rather jump from the balcony than have to converse with them. There was that nasty looking man with a tacky golden suit that had tried to fondle her butt while they danced, a dour man who had just come out of mourning but wasn’t quite over his wife, and a few more fresh faced bachelors who constantly bored her to tears; the worst part was them not even being old enough to marry yet.

(Clearly conversation wasn’t something they taught in etiquette class anymore.)

June made a beeline for Mr. Longbottom the moment she saw him after quickly leaving her dance partner, if only because he was at least interesting enough to not make her want to throw herself off a balcony from boredom. “I’ve learned several things tonight,” she started as she came up beside him near the refreshment table, not caring that she didn’t offer much of a greeting to him, “First of all, these sandwiches are a thousand times better than they look.” They were little French ones, filled with who knew what.

She glanced at him from the corner of her eye, a small tugging at the edge of her lips. “Secondly, Miss Ladyworth, the one you were just dancing with, is willing to marry anything with a pulse, so I hope you didn’t like her too much.” If he was that desperate, well, June was going to judge him.

---