Amelia looked the poor sod over proper as she was being fussed about. Her water poured and napkin fied. He was young - which as far as dates went, was a marking of her aunt's selection. She couldn't really imagine her mother going for someone three years her minor, that was certainly an Aunt Edie thing. That woman didn't seem to notice ages- just names. It was how she ended up on a dinner date with an eighty year old man last month. Oh he had the name, yes, but very little hair to go with it.
Besides his age though, he wasn't too bad off. He was certainly a Malfoy- they all had that too-pale-for-sunlight glint about them, nearly white hair and distracted expression. Even as she thought this though, Amelia had to wonder if there was anything about her that gave her away as a Burke...
"Well, in all legalities, it is my name. I haven't been a Burke since school years, and it suites me."
What she preferred to be called? Really? Certainly he knew she was... Amelia looked down at her left hand for a haf-heartbeat, hiding the glance with amore pointed interest in her menu. Her hand was empty, as it only was on nights like this. He just might not know- which would make her appear very strange indeed.
"My late husband was a Rowe." She informed him, "We would have been married eight years this fall. So, I've been a Rowe nearly half as long as a Burke, and more recently at that." There.Just like a band-aide.
"And you're Mr. Malfoy, yes? I fear whatever Aunt Edie informed you on would have been nearly obsessively focused, but she does mean for the best. You must have every divorced, snaggle-toothed, youngest-daughter witch thrown at you since you were eighteen. Am I correct?"