August 30th, 1888 - Aphrodite Ball

Nicky had been delighted to win the Witch Weekly sweepstakes, and was happier still to take Mrs. Esther Browne, who had once been the less attractive Miss Diggory, with her. They had rekindled their friendship since Nicky's return - Mrs. Browne and by extension her husband were the only people who knew Nicky as nee Dippet although she was still clinging to the Van Der Sandt surname - and so she was Nicky-the-widow's company. Nicky-the-widow was staying at The Three Broomsticks after moving her young daughter here. Nicky-the-widow had been disadvantaged by her husband's will. Nicky-the-widow was low-key a bit of a gold digger. Since Mrs. Van Der Sandt was supposedly a British widow, she was using a lilting received pronunciation accent. Her gown was one she'd had in South Africa, high quality, a bright purple dress in gentle fabrics that draped. Her hair was done up in a distinctly British style. She'd made a few cheerful introductions. An hour or so into the party, standing at the edge of the dance floor in the midst of conversation with someone else, she saw a man twenty-feet-away and took pause. Nicky trailed off mid-sentence, mind suddenly blank.

He was tall; it was easy to spot him. He stood above the men around him. Even from here, she could tell that his suit was well-made; it would be. He had always been more than willing to spend money on things like that, an almost exorbitant amount that marked them as new money - it was how Nicky's fashion was able to slide under the radar with this dress, as well asthe foreign fabrics masking her. The facial hair was new. If she got close - and she was not going to get close - she knew that he would look older, because she looked older. He would have aged well, though. Both his parents had aged well.

Max.

She looked away. "I'm sorry," Nicky said to the person she was talking to, in that careful RP accent. Her smile was gentle; she looked up at them from under her eyelashes. Her heart thumped against her ribcage. He could ruin everything. He was going to ruin everything. Her face did not betray her. "What was I saying?"

She didn't know what he was doing here, but she had her suspicions - Max had always wanted European wives. And she was suddenly glad that Josie was nowhere near, safely sealed-up in her room in The Three Broomsticks. Josie mirrored Nicky physically almost exactly - but.

But, she could be Max's.

As someone else started talking, and she nodded as if she was listening, Nicky glanced over the shoulder of the person she conversed with once more. Had he seen her? Was he going to?

Their eyes met.

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