Richard had generally tried to avoid most afternoon social meetings with single young witches when he had been living in London. Then again, those meetings had generally been arranged by his mother. While she had an extensive knowledge of the social register, the most charitable thing that could have been said about most of the young ladies in question was that they were probably human. Probably. Mostly. This new place required new methods of meeting people. Even if they were the traditional Way Things Were Done.
For a wizard with intercontinental range, it was as easy as walking across a room for him to Apparate to Cassi's neighborhood. He whistled a jaunty tune as he walked down the lane toward her house, stretching out a few notes as he noticed her wards, analyzed them, and dismissed them as harmless at their current level, and, frankly, rather quaint. With what he'd learned during the last Wizardiing War from his time with the Resistance, his own wards were military grade, and capable of going lethal with a thought, or in automatic response to an attack.
Under one arm he carried a pastry box, protected by preservation and warming charms, and filled with home-made baklava, his own new recipe. The usual phyllo dough, filled with finely chopped almonds, pistachios, and walnuts, with a honey and sweet rosewater syrup, with just a touch of cardamom. In another box he had a hospitality gift for his hostess, a small rose made of exquisitely thin hammered sheets of silver, enchanted to always smell like a single real rose.
Rather than using a knock or bell spell at his arrival, Rich projected his personal identification onto the house wards, knowing they would report to Cassi no matter where she might be in the house. It was a touch of old Pureblood etiquette, and required subtle and powerful magic to be done correctly, to announce him without triggering an automatic response.