September 8, 1894 - Paris, France
Anthony was less worried for his nephew than he was concerned about that other little shit bothering poor Charlie. He’d written to Basil, asking his cousin to keep an eye on the situation, to which he’d received a playful jab about being too overprotective and letting the boys sort it out between themselves. Hmph! Overprotective? Him?! If anyone was overprotective, it was obviously Lucy. He was a million miles away in another country. Wouldn’t overprotective be banging down the doors in Scotland itself? The brunette ran a hand tiredly through his hair and decided to forget about it. He had bigger fish to fry than worrying about how Basil perceived him. Benoit had written earlier that day that there was to be a new opera opening in Paris next week and he was to bring a companion. Someone he wanted to impress. Anthony wasn’t sure what Benoit was getting at; he’d met many eligible ladies this season but his friend knew that there wasn’t any particular one that had stood out above the rest. Was he supposed to just find someone out on the street?! (If Anthony was honest, there was maybe one he’d taken a liking to, but he didn’t even know her name much less anything about her. How rude would it be to track her down and ask her to attend an event with him? No, he’d do better to forget altogether.) In fact, he’d do well to find himself someone for this event sooner rather than later. It sounded more like a business dinner than a courtship invitation, if he really squinted at the print.
It was a good thing he was off to Paris now then for an evening with the uppercrust of magical society. Perhaps if he tried hard enough he might find someone at least mildly interesting; someone he might fancy spending a second evening with, if not more. Standing from his desk, Anthony straightened out his jacket and tidied his hair. He would check in on Charlie again in a few days. Maybe he’d even swing back home to check on Lucy, too. Reg, and Tillie. (Was he homesick? Hah. What a miserable reality that would be. A fish out of water both here and there.) He dismissed the thought as quickly as it had come and took a hold of his portkey. The sooner he got moving, the better off he’d be.
The evening passed quickly after that. Anthony arrived at the splendid town home of the former Countess Beauvais who also happened to be matriarch of one of the older, pureblood families in France, and made a decent enough acquaintance with her daughter. Mousey, shrew-like thing as she was. Blonde and with a nose much too big for her face, Anthony wasn’t sure what interest they might have in him but he didn’t reciprocate the sentiment. In fact, he spent most of the evening avoiding the mother or daughter, and at one point found himself wishing for a respite. It was in this moment that he made a beeline for the door.
The bustling Parisian street just outside was a welcome distraction, one he reached for with every nearing footstep. It was downright rude to leave an event such as this without bidding one’s host adieu, but he couldn’t help it. Perhaps he’d even run home and see Lucy tonight. His heart just wasn't in this and what good would it do to force anything— oh!
With his attention thrown over his left shoulder, Anthony did not see the moment he stepped out into the street and nearly bowled over someone in his path. The someone was slight and he reached for them - her? - as if on instinct, a string of apologies on his tongue. “Désolé!” He announced, catching the young lady by the waist. Of course it would be just his luck that it was raining, too.
© darling MJ for this spectacular sight
![[Image: ohwRsWh.jpg]](https://i.imgur.com/ohwRsWh.jpg)