If it hadn’t been for cousin Fairy being a Rose, and his electing to spend Christmas with the Carmichaels, Orpheus most definitely wouldn’t have been attending the ball. As it was, Aunt Isolda had made it clear in no uncertain terms that he was to attend and he was far too acquainted with formidable nature of the Orpington women to argue otherwise.
He’d even bitten the bullet and asked a couple of young ladies to dance, though he was quickly coming unstuck. He knew the next dance was a waltz and was sure he’d promised it to a particular young lady, though be damned if he could remember her name. With only a few minutes before he was irrevocably tardy, Orpheus had no choice but to cross over to the young lady. “Are you ready, miss…” He trailed off rather awkwardly, offering out his gloved hand all the same. Why couldn’t men have dance cards too?
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'Mr. Parkinson, a former Hufflepuff, is twenty-seven years old and we think that his curls are frankly impressive.'
~Witch Weekly