His eyebrows lift slightly, and he snickers. "Punch! I'm not dealing with this insane crowd without a drink. Come, let's get at the bowl before our host swills down half of it." He starts leading the way over to the extremely lengthy drink table.

"That is how it works. Poets call it "the gilded cage"--if it's luxurious and pretty enough, most people won't protest being there or ever seek their freedom." He notices her discomfort and subtly shifts himself between her and the Duke's line of sight. There are advantages to being big.

"Right then." He leads her around a gaggle of mums and their frightened-looking offspring, glancing around. "First however I should ask you a question. How much do you dislike our host?"