“Why the hell should I?!”

The shout rang out in the resplendent ballroom, cutting harshly through the chamber music and quiet, polite conversations that were had been going on, disrupting both, bringing musicians and conversationalists alike to a discordant, awkward silence.

Prime Minister Lewis, his beautiful and well spoken wife at his side, winced at the sound of the voice and, asking to be excused from the lively banter that had been gracing their small group moments before, turned to stare across the hall, his mouth set in a strained grimace of a smile, his wife petting his arm, do her best to keep him calm.

The regally dressed attendees were men and women of high authority and class, the aristocracy of their day, and this was the grandest social gathering of the year. Many a political deal was being struck in these polite, quiet conversations between peers, many a political alliance being brokered between families, often with young couples bartered as marriage partners for collateral. Really, anyone who attended this soirée without a life partner was almost certainly on display for that exact purpose, a lure for those with useful connections and services, alliances of blood far outweighing contracts and legal guarantees amongst the elite.

Indeed, the more powerful and connected the partner and their family, the more in demand taking such a hand in matrimony would be—and none should be more in demand that the family of Lewis, both as the host of this prestigious ball and as the longstanding Prime Minister of their state.

But not so when it came to his sister, “Though I might have to work harder in seeking a husband for her; She could certainly use some mellowing out and a firm hand to encourage her to be less…bombastic, he supposed was the polite term.” That said, he could little more see his baby sister with a mild personality than he could a imagine running into a wolverine in the mood for cuddling!