July 23rd, 1891 — London
The Cirque

With his own family's...troubles in the past, Julius Scrimgeour was hardly about to turn his nose up at the Prewetts and their abrupt nuptials. Glass houses, thwacked bludgers, or something to that effect. Still, it was only his mother's needling that had seen him attend this evening; while Media Scrimgeour had been sensitive to his loss (he still keenly felt Will's absence in his life) and had been in emotional recovery from her own misadventures at sea, it seemed his mother had decided that all three Scrimgeours were overdue for a genuine return to society.

And thus, here he stood, the acrobats above him feeling not unlike the sword of Damocles, threatening to plummet to the ground—though perhaps the investigator was simply too accustomed to tragedy befalling social events.

Carefully, Julius redirected his attention from the acrobats to the young ladies milling about the room. Before the ill-fated sea voyage, Julius had resolved to find a wife this Season. While he was no longer convinced of his ability (or even interest) to do so, he was resolved, a the very least, to try. He struck up a polite enough conversation with one young lady who had managed to separate from whichever relation had accompanied her this evening, though part of Julius could not help but wonder if there was an overinvested mama lurking around the edges of the room, eagle-eyes peering eagerly into the depths of his soul.

"A dance, if there is room yet on your card?" Julius inquired with a smile that looked easier than it was. "Upon the floor, I'm afraid," the wizard added, gesturing up at the acrobats above them, "but I promise I am not ungraceful on my feet."

Hurling! Unattached UCAB or MCPB female < 26 who is at least vaguely open to marriage :)

  

---

— graphics by mj ♥ —

As it turned out, Vesta being out had its downsides. By which she meant that her younger sister was so sweetly persuasive when she wanted to be that, whenever Rosamund’s schedule allowed, she had let herself be talked into accepting invitations alongside her, for moral support, if nothing else – as if Vesta didn’t have plenty of friends of her own, and no real anxieties about society to assuage, either. 

As evidenced by Rommy being left largely to her own devices all night anyway, which she didn’t mind entirely either. Only now Mr. Scrimgeour had asked her to dance. Oh, plenty, Rommy might have answered, if that was the sort of admission a lady was encouraged to make – but presumably he would think her ungraceful on her feet if she did. But nevertheless, the next dance was free – and the next, and the next for that matter, and indeed most of the card, more out of choice avoidance than anything. (If she had a flute of champagne in hand or pretended to be invested in watching the acrobatics or talking to friends, or faded out of a conversation early enough not to be asked, there was usually room enough to make her excuses.)

“Well, now I’m terribly disappointed,” Rommy returned with a small smile, hoping as she proffered her card accordingly that he would not notice all the spaces on it. “I am sure everyone has just been waiting for some brave guest to take to the silks themselves all evening.”

---

The following 1 user Likes Rosamund Bones's post:1 user Likes Rosamund Bones's post
   Julius Scrimgeour

---

"I must insist, Miss Bones," Julius returned good-naturedly, "that I am indeed brave, I am just also keenly aware of my own mortality. Without a medic on hand, I feel it should be a fool's errand."

  

---

— graphics by mj ♥ —

Oh dear. Of course Mr. Scrimgeour was witty and good-natured. Nice for him, of course: but now that Rommy had managed to be teasing once she would have to try and keep it up while they danced, and that was a pressure she might have avoided had he been dull and disengaged and humourless.

And she was fairly certain he had meant that as a joke. Keenly aware of his own mortality. Although, who knew: he and his family had suffered through their fair share of trials, hadn’t they? And she had an inkling that his career was something a little serious too. And there had just been the wrecked cruise... (And though all of society knew of the Scrimgeours’ past difficulties, the fact remained that none of those topics were exactly ball-appropriate, were they?)

“Well, I am a healer,” Rommy affirmed, offering her hand with as playful a smile as she could muster, “though I admit daring falls from ballroom heights are not my usual specialty.”

---

The following 1 user Likes Rosamund Bones's post:1 user Likes Rosamund Bones's post
   Julius Scrimgeour

---

A healer, that was right; Miss Bones had been of an age with Araminta and Annabelle and made her debut the same year before promptly focusing upon profession instead of the Season. She had, Julius thought, done so in a much more appropriate fashion than his erstwhile sister, but dwelling upon such a thing was not likely to make him a lively conversationalist as they danced.

"Then is it not unkind of you," he teased as they moved towards the dance floor, the instrumentals having struck their warning notes, "to bid men risk life and limb with no intention of coming to their aid?"

The following 1 user Likes Julius Scrimgeour's post:1 user Likes Julius Scrimgeour's post
   Rosamund Bones

---

— graphics by mj ♥ —

Rommy’s cheeks coloured slightly at being called unkind, even jokingly – she could only hope neither he nor anyone else had any true reason to consider her that. One day she would say something in the wrong tone or to the wrong person and summarily put her foot in it, she was quite certain.

But she felt – in safe hands enough with Mr. Scrimgeour. Literally too, she supposed, as they took their places for the dance, the familiar burst of worry of dancing at a society ball a little soothed by having the conversation to focus upon. “Perhaps a little unkind,” she said, a smile twitching at her mouth. “I should have at least offered to accompany you up to the ceiling.” She glanced upwards briefly, but the sight of the dangling acrobats was rather more dizzying from this dancing vantage, so Rommy swiftly returned her eyes to her present partner. “Do you think we are already in danger, to be dancing directly under them?” (About this, she was only partly joking.)

---

  

---

"Well, now that you mention it..." he trailed off, a good-natured glint in his eyes. "Allow me, Miss Bones, to lead us to a less dangerous patch of the dance floor?"

  

---

— graphics by mj ♥ —

This time Rosamund didn’t bother glancing upwards at the dangling threats, happy enough to trust his judgement on that. “Oh,” she answered with a warm nod, half in the same teasing tone and half in sincere relief; “Mr. Scrimgeour, I’d be delighted.”

---

  

---