August 30, 1888 - The Destiny Hotel, London
Aphrodite Soiree

Open to a gentleman (preferably single) attending the Aphrodite Soiree

The last gentleman Lucy had been paired with had been a complete disaster and Lucy didn’t admit to disasters often. When he had appeared on her dance card and then approached her he’d seemed fine enough. Not very attractive, but one never really knew did they. Then they’d begun to dance and her poor toes had been trampled on. His conversation had never ceased to continue speaking of potions he was inventing to help thicken the coats of sheep at the sheep farms his family owned. By the end of the dance he had been presumptuous enough to think she would be his partner for the rest of the evening - indeed to listen to him talk they were already betrothed. He’d even begun to follow her around. So Lucy did what any sane young lady in such a situation would have done in a similar situation - she turned to the very next gentleman she saw and threw herself at him.

“Oh, darling, I’m so glad I found you.” She fawned, looking up at the gentleman a smile plastered on her lips as if he were the love of her life, but her eyes denoting the danger of the situation. She glanced behind her to where the gentleman stood a mix of disbelief at his presumptions and outrage. Please play along, please. Lucy internally begged. “I’ve been looking all over for you. Mother would be outraged if she knew you had let me out of your sights.” She continued, it might be out of the cauldron and into the fire, but at least she would hear no more of sheep potions this evening.

  

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Thank you MJ for an amazingly Lucy set!

The evening, though a little loud for his tastes, had been pleasant enough. He was sociable, but not outgoing; friendly, but not flirtatious. His romantic nature ensured that he carefully took note of every fact and every mannerism he picked up during conversations with his various dance partners, but his sensibility - his innate cautiousness - made it so he paid attention to every detail and mannerism of every young lady he danced with.

And so far, none of them had fit the description that both he and his family wanted for him.

As the evening went on, he resigned to the fact that it ball would be no different from any others, even if it was love-themed and hosted by a so-called 'matchmaking prophet'. He figured that even if he took a liking to a particular woman, his enchanted pocket watch would soon leave him with a sense of obligation to abandon her in favor of his selected dance partner, lest one of them felt offended - or worse, abandoned and unwanted.

That was, at least until this dance, when his watched failed to give any indication that a partner had been selected for him. Unsure of whether this was a mishap, a break, or an indication that he'd gone through his prearranged list, Edward lingered away from the main dance floor with a flute of champagne in his hand.

A minute or so of silence passed with relative ease before a sudden interruption brought him out of his reverie. A young woman - fair-haired and with wide, blue eyes - attached herself to him, a bright smile on her face that, he recognized immediately, did not meet her eyes. He instinctively smiled back, but his gaze flickered up to survey their surroundings for anyone out of place, knowing there was no possibility for a case of mistaken identity.

"I can assure you your mother will have no cause for concern," he reassured, awkwardly touching her shoulder with his free hand. Then, lowering his head ever so slightly, he arched a brow questioningly.

"Is everything alright, Miss...?"

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He had played along! The gentleman had even reached around her “Flint.” Lucy supplied in an undertone, then added louder so the gentleman behind them might overhear, “You shall have to make it up to me then.” A mischievous look crossed her face to match the part. “I believe you promised to show me the view of London. Or had you forgotten? Lucy pouted as if she were a neglected lover. Merlin’s finest pants, might he take the hint and whisk her away from prying ears.

  

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Thank you MJ for an amazingly Lucy set!

Flint. It was a surname he recognized, but one with enough carriers that he couldn't match it to a first name. Whoever she was, she was a stunningly good actress, the pout sliding onto her lips as if it came naturally to her, and her tone so believable that he might have actually believed himself a married man struck by a memory charm if someone had dared suggest as much. Whether or not it was true (and he was most certain it wasn't), he had little choice but to go along with her charade. (Besides, it brought a little mystery to the otherwise dull evening.)

Eyeing the people around them one last time, he finally caught the hard, cold gaze of a nearby gentleman. He swiftly turned his attention back to Miss Flint, hoping that no conflict came from this situation. He had two options: he could take her arm, lead her away, and open himself up to the risk of speculation, or he could find some smooth way of sending her off in the other direction, potentially putting her in an uncomfortable position.

"I'm sure I can manage that," he said, a tight smile stretching across his lips. "- darling."

Ever the gentleman, Edward reluctantly kept his grasp on her arm. The struggle to maintain propriety while also maintaining a believable sense of warmth between he and Miss Flint was a harrowing one, so, after a few moments of fumbling to get his hands in the right place, led her away with her arm looped around his own.

Leading her through the crowd, Edward did his best to keep his head and gaze low, often averting his gaze to the refreshments tables they past, the question of when they should stop running through his mind. Finally, as they neared the entrance of the room itself, he stopped and released his hold on her.

"I'll ask again, are you alright, Miss?" he reiterated. "Or, more specifically, were you alright?"

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To the gentleman’s credit and Lucille’s lasting gratitude any discomfit the gentleman felt he kept to himself. The tight smile he gave her hinted that his nonplussed attitude was as much for show as her own, but it did nothing to dampen Lucy’s relief as he agreed, even adding ‘darling’ to the statement. She flashed him a bright smile of gratitude.

The gentleman fumbled for a moment as he finally grasped her arm and Lucy did what she could to keep a look on her face as if this was all absolutely and perfectly normal. Together they started across the room, each step away from the sheep-owning gentleman mollifying Lucy’s desire to run as far away from him as possible. Although she did begin to note what the fire she might have just stepped was. Hopefully no one really took too much note, but at least they wouldn’t be gossiping about her and Mr. Sheep Potions in the days to come. Lucille leaned over to him, “Thank you.” She told him in a low tone as the maneuvered the room. If they were to be gossiped about the least she could do was show her knight in shining armor appropriate gratefulness.

When they neared the entrance the gentleman released his hold on her. “Yes, sir. I am thanks to you.” She looked up at him her look full of gratitude, no acting and no guile this time. ”I was in a bit of a bind there.” She admitted almost sheepishly. Looking back out at the crowd she noted Mr. Sheep Potions was now checking his pocket watch with a confused look, as if wondering why it might be going off again. Lucy turned back to the gentleman, “I suppose I owe my rescuer a bit of an explanation.” She bit her lip slightly, “The gentleman back there seemed to believe after Miss Valentine assigned us to dance that I was already attached to him. We hardly were a good match and I could think of no other way to remove him than to remove the object of his attention to an unavailable category. I do apologize for dragging you into such a mess.” Her anxiety showed in her eyes and face, despite the bright tone with which she explained the situation.

  

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Thank you MJ for an amazingly Lucy set!

Edward recognized the sincerity in her words and did not question them. He wasn't sure if the man whose gaze he caught was the man in question, but he could understand how an overbearing gentleman - especially one enchanted by a debutante's dazzling charms - might cause a woman discomfort if the interest was not returned.

"It was no inconvenience at all, I assure you," he replied thoughtfully. To not rescue a woman from a man with ill intentions (or at least ill manners) would have been a sign of his own lacking character. "The gentleman should have taken a hint." Especially given how evident your desperation was. A quick glance in the direction they'd came from revealed that no one had followed them and no one was out of place; all seemed well.

"I hope the situation -" If it could be called that, even. "- has not ruined your evening. Would you like me to see you back to your chaperon?" The alternative, of course, was dancing, but he doubted she would want that; it was obvious the interaction between her and the unwanted suitor had taken a toll on her nerves.

"Or," he added, an afterthought, "I can remain with you until you feel comfortable returning to the party." It would also save him from having to explain the situation to a distraught guardian.

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Now that they were standing still and her desperation had lessened she had a moment to truly look at the gentleman. He had a gallant enough mein to him, she supposed anyone might if they were to rescue her from such a situation. But still, he had shown himself to be kind and he was rather handsome. Perhaps she had chosen well despite her desperation.

“You would think.” Lucy replied lightly enough, “But all he wished to discuss was a potion he was trying to develop for sheep’s wool.” Her face grew serious to indicate the travesty of this particular conversation piece. “I could hardly get a word in edgewise.”

The thought of returning to her mother after such an incident was enough to dampen Lucy’s mood. A mood which had quickly lightened at the realization of her freedom from the situation. She thought to tell the gentleman that it would take more to shake her, but he suggested remaining with her until she calmed. It wouldn’t hurt to talk to her handsome hero a little longer, would it? “If you wouldn’t mind, I’d rather not cause my mother any alarm. I am sure I shall be quite alright to return to the party soon enough, if you don’t mind?”

  

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Thank you MJ for an amazingly Lucy set!

His brows furrowed concernedly at the revelation (a potion for sheep wool?) before a smile spread slowly across his features, finally reaching his eyes. As strange as the situation was for him - and not to mention uncomfortable for her - he couldn't help but find the way she spoke of it rather amusing.

His chest shook with a silent chuckle. "An expert salesman, I'm sure," he responded, "What better way to charm a woman than with your most revolutionizing invention?" He was teasing, of course; he wasn't sure he could handle the company of someone who was obsessed with themselves, let alone as a spouse.

Mrs. Flint might be the overbearing sort, too, he imagined, as her daughter seemed less than enthusiastic at the prospect of being returned to her. "I don't mind at all," he assured. "Do you need anything - a drink, perhaps?" They needed to move closer, or move at all, really; standing away from the rest of the party made them look almost conspiratorial, and he wasn't the type who reveled in seeing his name printed across the tabloids.

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It appeared the gentleman understood her predicament and even found amusement in it. Lucy was willing to admit she was too now that the dire need to escape from such a conversation had passed. “Precisely.” She agreed with an amused laugh lilting the word. “Perhaps he should have waxed eloquently upon his latest endeavors with the sheep as well.” She added mirthfully.

“Thank you, a drink would be lovely.” Lucy agreed, nodding toward the nearest table. Blending into the crowd seemed a better idea than lingering by the door. As they began walking toward the table she wanted to keep the conversation light and running, for she was finding that her choice in a savior had been well placed. He seemed quite gallant and charming after all. “So do you often find yourself rescuing damsels in distress?” There was a tease mainly at herself there in the lighthearted question.

  

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Thank you MJ for an amazingly Lucy set!

Miss Flint's laugh was a refreshing one; it was high-pitched and bell-like, genuine and unforced. It was different from that of the debutantes who felt obligated to let out a laugh every few seconds, lest they seem unfriendly and unapproachable. He simply stood silently, a smile across his face, and admired hers, feeling no obligation to return the same awkward laugh he'd offered twice just this evening.

"I'm sure they've heard an earful already," he responded. (Any gentleman who would unabashedly stalk a woman was the sort, in his opinion, was one who lacked reality - and might very well talk to their sheep.)

Offering his arm once more, Edward was determined to carry on the evening with a pleasant disposition rather than a tense chest. People would only speculate if he gave hem a reason to speculate.

"I wish I could say I did," he said, biting his bottom lip to prevent his smile from becoming unnaturally wide. "You might say it was once an aspiration of mine, but my days of heroism have long passed," he teased. In reality, he'd never once been a hero - a healer's intern, but never a hero.

"And you, Miss Flint," he said, turning towards her as they stopped at the refreshments table. "Do you often find yourself in need of rescuing?"

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The following 1 user Likes Edward Macmillan's post:1 user Likes Edward Macmillan's post
   Elladora Black

As they walked Lucy slipped her arm back into his as if this whole situation were perfectly normal. Perhaps if the man came back they even looked like a couple now that the idea was in his mind that she’d have no further problems from him.

“Is that so? Whatever made you retire from such an aspiration? It seems as if it would be rather worthwhile.” At least to young ladies like her who apparently were mismatched with sheep herders.

“Typically, no. But I suppose all damsels end up in distress from time to time.” Lucy certainly didn’t want him to think that she was completely helpless and that this was a normal occurrence. She gave him a warm smile as she took a glass of champagne from a waiter and sipped it. “Perhaps, it will reignite your heroism?” She teased over her glass, her eyes as playful as her words.

  

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Thank you MJ for an amazingly Lucy set!

Edward wasn't sure if there was a right answer to her question, but was determined not to embarrass himself; he'd dug the hero hole and would now have to either keep digging, or - the most likely option - dig himself out of it.

"I thought my energy might be best employed on my family," he explained. It wasn't untrue, but he quickly amended himself to be more clear: "My youngest brother already has a penchant for adventure; I thought I might be the stable factor in my home, lest my mother worry night and day."

He grabbed his champagne flute, but held it in his hand rather than taking a sip of it. "I'm sure I'll be more observant at the very least," he laughed. "Hopefully the next ball won't involve live dragons."

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At his answer Lucy’s eyebrows furrowed until he explained. “That sounds quite considerate and even, I’d say, gallant of you.” Lucy assured him with a smile. She was mentally adding kind and family oriented to her list. “I’m sure your mother appreciates that very much.” Although part of her had begun to wonder just what type of family her Prince Charming had come from and if he had a younger brother… well he could very well be the eldest and that was never a bad thing. But she had forgotten to inquire about his name and she rather felt it rude to bring the matter up now. Hopefully someone in the room might know him if she pointed him out. She’d have to look for Nora and Helga after this and employ their help.

A surprised laugh tinkled from her lips. “I should certainly hope not. I may need rescuing again if it does!” She held a hand to her heart as if the very thought made it race.

  

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Thank you MJ for an amazingly Lucy set!

The word "gallant" brought to mind images of heroic nights slaughtering vicious dragons, an image that did not at all align with Edward's self-image. He was a gentleman, not a warrior - and yet, based on Miss Flint's next words, she seemed to understand as much. He flashed her a bashful grin, his gaze momentarily drifting downwards.

"I like to think she does." Or else she's been very patient with me over the last decade, he wanted to say, but thought it may have crossed a line. Edward took after his mother in many respects despite the belief that sons were more like their fathers, but had no desire to come across as a Mama's Boy to Miss Flint.

Where rescuing was concerned, he wanted to believe that no more tragedy would hit the magical community, but the last decade had been chaotic to say the least. Hopefully Miss Flint lived in a place far from harm's way, and that no one would be daft enough to bring dragons near a ballroom; despite knowing her for mere minutes, he knew her smile would remain embedded in his memory. "I hope I would be nearby to assist you if such chaos broke out," he teased. More sincerely, he added: "I would hate to envision any harm coming to you."

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“I’m sure she does.” Lucy assured him with a big smile. She often wondered how her mother would feel when Lucy did leave, it had always just been the two of them. Although there was always the unspoken fact of her inheritance of the manor, perhaps if he was a second son he’d want to settle there. Whoever he was.

He wished to be near her and keep her from harm, Lucy’s heart fluttered at the idea. “I should very much hope you are near. I would feel much safer.” She confided with another smile, almost a shy smile at the thought. She very much hoped she saw her savior again, whether her was saving her from dragons or merely another boring conversation.

  

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Thank you MJ for an amazingly Lucy set!

Edward averted his eyes bashfully, his own heart fluttering at her soft words and shy smile. Though a romantic by nature, he had no desire to fall under the spell of a sweet voice and fair hair before he could learn anything more than her name. Yet, he could not find the words—nor the will—to dismiss her hopes, as he too found the prospect of seeing her again most agreeable. "I'm sure we will meet again," he finally said with a sincere smile. "With exclusive events as these," he added, motioning to the event around them with a general wave of his hand, "faces are bound to repeat themselves now and then."

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