In terms of humans, Emmeline Vance is a goddess.

Alice Prewett, on the other hand, is parchment and doing homework on sundays and bland debutante balls and a upcoming betrothal to Frank Longbottom, who may quite possibly be the dullest person she's ever met.

It's hard to think about her sweet, naive, future to-be husband, however, when Emmeline Vance pulls her too tight against her chest and Alice can't resist a look down where Emmeline fills out every inch of her gown.

"Alice, darling!" Emmeline exclaims, kissing both of Alice's cheeks. Frank steps to kiss her hand but Emmeline ignores him in favour of grabbing Alice's hand.

"I'm borrowing Alice for a dance," Emmeline tells him and Frank flinches. It isn't done, two girls dancing, but nobody dares contradict Emmeline Vance. Not after what happened to the last people who did.

On the dance floor, Alice feels every inch of Emmeline' salon—down to where she slips her fingers into the cracks of Alice's corset.

"When are you leaving him?" Emmeline whispers in her ear, seductive and demanding. Alice thinks of Emmeline's wicked smile, her skilled hands, and if Frank's endless plant talk.

"Not soon enough, my love," Alice whispers.

(Let the people talk. What is a commoner to a goddess?)