Mama always said that you should remember a man who is well monied, well married, or who has lost either. she added waggling her eyebrows and laughing lightly. Eugenia Blackwood was every stereotype of the upperclass pureblood socialite one could imagine, and while Ginny had enough of her father's levity to temper the more vicious aspects of her personality and make her a lot more fun than her mother could ever boast of being, she was well on her way to being the socialitic powerhouse her mother wanted her to be, although she was unlikely to ever be considered the successor to someone as austere as Olivia Pendergast and much more like Daisy Greville, Countess of Warwick.


'Her of course!' Ginny said, 'What use is marrying if he's going to lose your fortune!' she said, her fan cracking like a whip as she opened it and fluttering before her, 'If you are going to be pretty and penniless one might as well be single while doing it.' she added, as the maid brought her tea, 'Although I believe she has an excellent dowry, and her only brother is very sick, like might not make it sick - which I am sure is why he is so keen'. Ginny couldn't help the slightly cold look she gave him, having now decided to hate him entirely for being so mercenary. There were mercenary matches made every day in the upper classes, but that didn't mean one should drop all pretense of affection.

'Oh god they are! she mused, 'He's following her!' she added in a frantic stage whisper. The man caught up to the lady and grabbed her arm. The teashop fell instantly silent, amidst gasps of shock, as the air was rent with a sharp CRACK as the lady's hand came into contact with his cheek. Ginny stared at the salt shaker in the middle of the table, her eyes casting sidlong glances at the other two, not daring to turn her head, her mouth forming a silent O at the very public spectacle they were privy to.