Weddings had the nasty habit, Seraphina had learned, of devolving after the bride and groom had left. Why anyone would leave such a ball before dawn was a well stated fact in society, wedding or not. But after the bride and groom left the rest of the party had sufficiently indulged into enough alcholic beverages to become less enchanting and the hold on good behavior was gone. Which left women like Seraphina in the grasp of Uncles who had imbued enough to believe they could seduce ladies like her into dances and other forays - rather mistakenly.

It wasn't only the devolution of manners that Seraphina found herself disliking about weddings this evening, but also the reminder that she was quickly approaching the age of a spinster. Every wedding this season was a reminder of that. Girls younger than her marrying canidates that could easily been her's if only she had thought them worthy. She refused to accept defeat however.

But in the early hours of the morning and the white haired widowed Mr. Garbish cornered her for yet another dance, Seraphina was finding it easier and easier to realize that defeat might just await her at the end of the year in the form of a widowed old man who might not see her age as a hindrance.

"No, Mr. Garbish, really, that's quite alright, I rather think I need a breathe of fresh air-" Seraphina was saying in desperation as she tried to keep her words polite and escape the impossible old man after their first dance. Who did he think he was, the King of England?