#youngoconnor

After her lessons—and ‘lessons’—with Edgar, Genevieve decided to stay a bit longer while he was occupied with something. In the midst of her exploring their estate, she stumbled upon a grey, spotted bengal grooming himself in one of the stretching hallways. She blinked in surprise and lowered herself to her knees, not caring much about the motion ruining her dress.

“Quelle belle petite chose,” she whispered to herself before extending her hand, movements relaxed but still careful. “Hello, there.” She watched as the cat lifted its head to look at her, an uninterested gait about him before he stood and gave a slight stretch before approaching her with much reluctance. He gave her hand a light sniff, tail curling upward.

Genevieve knelt as he did so, smiling once he meowed softly and nudged his head against her fingers. Without another word, she stroked between his ears with a finger before scooping him into her arms. She got a chance to eye the dark leather collar around his neck, reading the silver nameplate. Sardine.

“Quite the silly name, but I suppose it must suit you, hm?”

Offering scratches beneath his chin, she continued her walk down the hall with Sardine nestled in her other arm. That was…until she heard a voice calling for him and turned, spotting the youngest O’Connor brother, Frederic. “Oh, Monsieur Sardine found his way here,” she said, now feeling truly like an intruder in their home.

Ceara wasn’t sure where her mind was at after last night. But all it did was swim. Quell the fire, swim. Drown her in sorrows, swim. She could barely come up for air. She hadn’t read Whistledown but she heard whispers, saw the way people eyed her when she passed. It hadn’t been long until they put a face to the name, but even she wondered how that got around so quickly. Mayfair always found a way, but so could see.

Which was why she was in the midst of grading a pupil’s work while she waited for Frederic to meet her. She wouldn’t dare invite him to her cottage, and she was surely not welcome at Easthampton Park. Not that she wanted to attempt stepping that way. Just a foot on the property and she’d likely burst into flames. Her thoughts had been grim since she awoke, but there wasn’t much she could do about it aside from work diligently until her mind was too tired to think.

She finally looked up when she spotted a familiar figure nearing the bench she’d claimed for them, quickly storing the parchment into the satchel and raising a hand so that Frederic could focus on it, see where he needed to go. She had something to focus on: turning the youngest O’Connor into the best teacher’s aide Mayfair had ever seen.