Thread: The Lady in Waiting (Lady Bloody Ava & Greeneyed23)

The day had been rather busy. Busier than she had expected. Spending less time with the girls and getting more messages and even two visits. She had yet to see any of the Granger boys, yet. Rose had the girl's gathered, save for Muriel who was still bedridden, into the chapel where they were left to pray. To comfort one another and be together, away from whomever was knocking upon her door next. Slippered feet walked across the cold floor of the foyer where it was said that Lord Trast awaited her. A kiss was pressed to the back of the Lady's left hand. A charming gentleman. A wed one, at that. Rose asked about the health of his wife. A topic which he did not linger upon too long before he offer up his condolences with the unfortunate events to haven recently befallen the Granger family. It would have been more of a surprise if someone didn't know about it. He spoke of her father and how dear friends they were. Making it, if possible, even more awkward when he brought up the 'offer' that was brought to her attention before. I doubt that Lady Beatrice would take kindly to that and as sweet as an offer that it is. She pressed a kiss to his cheek with a sweet smile. The girl was well with words and was rarely blunt. Now... if you will excuse me, I have to check on the girls. With her arm draped about his she walked him to the doors. Your company will be most welcomed anytime. Another humble and innocent hiss was pressed to his cheek. The wind blowing through the open door teased at the hem of the dress the flowed from her slender hims and down to her ankles. Emerald eyes void of that spark that was housed within them when she had first met Rallon. Lord Trast having taken advantage of her moment of mental reprieve to bask in the refreshing smell of the open air that flowed through. His warm hand sliding down her sides and stopping at her waist where she was pulled into an embrace. A gasp ripped forth from her throat as her hands came to rest upon his chest to prevent her from getting any closer. Lord Trast...Her voice barely audible. My beloved Rose... should you need anything... anything, please do not hesitate upon seeking me. Thankfully a cough broke through the moment. The page asking for his Lady's attention. Rose's heart did a back flip and a smile tugged at the corner of soft pink lips. A letter has arrived, M'Lady, from Lord Degan. With that she slipped from Trast's grasp. Putting a foot between the two. Thank you. Her gaze looking back at her guest. A busy day, as I said. Now, if you will excuse me. With that the door was closed with her on the inside and him on the outside. Such close calls always rattled her nerves. With letter clutched to her chest she took up occupancy in the nearest chair and noted the wax seal of the Degans. As it was popped off her eyes scanned the written letter and was a written invitations to their manor for a 'small' gathering for the celebration of Yancy's birth. Did they think that Rose was too kind to refuse? To be on Degan territory as such a time as this left an uneasy feeling to rattle within her bones. That would hardly be the end of her busy day. One of the servant girls brought to her the news of the bedchambers being put together for the girls. She wasn't sure how long they would stay, but it was hardly relevant. Rose made her own way to the chapel. The girl's having left and gone their seperate ways within the walls of their temporary home. The wooden alter looked as inviting as ever. Upon her knees she knelt. Elbows upon the smooth surface. Please... see him though. I pray for a safe return. I pray for the power not to bring harm upon him when he finally walks through my door. It was the latest request to her daily prayers. She dreamed of backhanding her betrothed before nearly strangling him with a hug. she prayed for the safety of the girls. To tell Lord and Lady Granger that they were always in her thoughts as was their youngest son. The thought had her fighting back the hot tears that threatened to spill down from the corners of her eyes. James. He was as sweet as Rallon. He was probably one of the main anchors for her sanity. Charming and nice. Reassuring and warm. James. The name but a whisper upon her lips. Unlike Rallon and the possibility of him being dead, this was a fresh and indefinite wound. There was no hope when the person was cold and dead to the eye. A faint knock sounded upon the doors to the small chapel. She scrambled to clear her face before standing. Come in. She sounded as the door slowly opened.