Aimé had taken a longer walk than usual, but he'd gone down a street he'd never walked before and found himself in a part of London he had never been down before. He walked a little faster, pulling the collar of his coat up - he wasn't sure why he did it, but it seemed like a simple way to protect himself.
There was a young woman across the street from him. She looked almost as out of place as he felt. She was quite beautiful but utterly unlike anyone else he had seen before, at least, dressed as well as she was. In France they had had Indian servants and mistresses, the novelty of them had always been a great draw. He felt rather ashamed of that now.
"Miss," He called, hurrying across the road. She probably lived around here, or would at least know where they were if she spoke English. "Miss, can you tell me which street I'm on?"