Verity listened to Grace ramble with a growing sense of dread. Was this what she was meant to be feeling, too? She had never been the sort to indulge in romance novels and daydreams about fellow classmates. Grace had, though, so was there something she knew that Verity gad missed? Was there a small nugget of information that would then mean the difference between a successful match and a failure?

"Mr Prewett is the head of his family," she reminded Grace, eager to get past any talk of handsomeness. "And the Prewett's are connected beyond our imagination. There is, of course, the unfortunate nature of one of them marrying a muggleborn, but it's not as though I would have to marry them." Verity wasn't against muggles, per se, but there was a reason she was a pureblood and they were magicless. Rules and standards to be adhered to. Merlin, if only she'd been able to debut and entice Claudius Lestrange into a marriage before he'd been committed to his cousin!

There was still Cassius Lestrange, she supposed, but he was neither handsome nor established. Quidditch was no place for a married man. "A ministry job is a must, Grace. Or an investor sort, like Mr Abbott. Anything less is beneath us."