24th January, 1890 — Somewhere in London
@"Caroline Delaney"
@"Caroline Delaney"
The dinner had been nice enough. He liked the hosts, of course, or he wouldn’t have come; but really he had founded his answer to the invitation upon the presence of Caroline Delaney, and Evander wasn’t sure what to make of himself for that. He had not yet dared ponder it too plainly, but he suspected Charity was to blame. He had a niece at home now to do right by, and things he had once let half-heartedly pass him by might potentially still be in reach after all. Or so he hoped. It seemed sharing his house with an eight-year-old girl had unsettled his priorities somewhat.
(And possibly even slackened his standards.)
They had had some time to talk, this evening, but the problem with parties such as these was the expectation of dividing one’s attentions between everyone present. And Evander had never been terribly good at vying for attention; he had not stood much of a chance. But now that everyone was leaving...
“Miss Delaney,” he began, catching her in the hallway with a tentative smile. “Might you permit me to walk you home?” She and her chaperon, naturally. In any case, he had left her plenty of room to decline: she might easily apparate (if she hadn’t had too much wine), or take a carriage or Floo home without any accompaniment or wasted time if she preferred. She would probably make her excuses that way, he resolved, carefully shrugging on his coat before he glanced at her again for an answer.
(And possibly even slackened his standards.)
They had had some time to talk, this evening, but the problem with parties such as these was the expectation of dividing one’s attentions between everyone present. And Evander had never been terribly good at vying for attention; he had not stood much of a chance. But now that everyone was leaving...
“Miss Delaney,” he began, catching her in the hallway with a tentative smile. “Might you permit me to walk you home?” She and her chaperon, naturally. In any case, he had left her plenty of room to decline: she might easily apparate (if she hadn’t had too much wine), or take a carriage or Floo home without any accompaniment or wasted time if she preferred. She would probably make her excuses that way, he resolved, carefully shrugging on his coat before he glanced at her again for an answer.