Gwendolyn Vane-Tempest was cold, and the hems of her petticoats were sodden from the streets, and osmosis was dragging the dirty rain water further and further up her legs, she could feel it at her shins. Her buttoned boots were pinching her toes and her new long corset was chaffing her leg. And yet, anyone looking at the Countess of Addinbury would know that she was a seething ball of miserable uncomfortable fury.

She didn’t have a footman with her today and so her packages and parcels, mostly new fancies and items of small haberdashery where shrunk into her purse, a tasseled and beaded French confection which hung from her slim wrist and jangled as she moved. Its small size belied the fact it was laden with a few galleons worth of haberdashery – but thus was the power of magic.

She stopped at a booksellers, examining the table in front of the store window and the leather and vellum bound volumes that were offered for sale there. As she leaned over she felt a sharp tug at her elbow and felt the delicate chain of her handbag snap free. It took her a moment to realise what had happened, and to incredulously affirm that her handbag was indeed gone. Peering around the crowded highstreet she sought out the culprit

(helping her? Getting accused? Maybe you actually did it! Pretty open)

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MJ is queen
Gwen is referred to as Countess of Adinbury by others, but as Lady Adinbury when you are speaking to her