Kaira

The audacity of the man coming into her business to reprimand her would have been terrible at any time but with so many eyes and ears on her she was even more furious at him and his attitude. “Why are you so concerned? You are not a stakeholder in my business and I am your customer, not the other way around. I’d gently remind you to heed caution for how you speak to people.”

"Shall we?" he asked, gesturing to the direction of the backroom, hearing a high pitched giggle. "I believe that would be her," he said, glancing over at Kaira before moving towards the door slowly. He pressed a finger on his lips, seeing the purple dress that Vivi was wearing sticking out from behind one of the boxes. “Principessa, mi amore?”

They could hear the giggle before they saw her and a flash of a little girl ran past to hide, a bright wave of purple for it. “I think she wants you to chase her.”

Oskar couldn’t imagine what about his small, normal life would interest someone like Kaira who had clearly seen so much. If she wanted stories he would happily give them to her. All the better if Hannah got to hear them as well. “Until Hannah came along, Ava was the best part of my life. I wasn’t the best student, but she managed to teach me how to make simple breads.

“I’m not sure if I could manage it now, though. It’s would ask quite a bit of my shoulder.” Oskar rubbed at his shoulder absently as he spoke. If he’d had the poppy that got him into this mess then he would’ve been able to try it at least. Now he didn’t trust himself.

“If it were that simple, every country would be happy. I have found it is never that simple.”

There was just a gentleness in Oskar, even now when everything had gone so wrong and must’ve felt terrible about everything, he didn’t seem like it was taking away any of that kindness she saw in him. A strong person, she thought. His daughter was lucky to have him. “That is something you can teach Hannah, too. Keep her mother with the two of you by passing on what she knew. I’m sure she’ll be excellent, she seems like a very bright girl. Sweet, too.” 

When he mentioned his shoulder, an idea popped into her head and she got up without a sound passing between them and after a few minutes came back with hot, piping tea. A cup for each of them. “It’s ginger and turmeric. My father used to suffer with various ailments because of his work and on occasion his shoulder too, this helped. Not much but it was enough for him to carry on. Try it,” she offers a cup and sits back with her own.

Thinking of Ava made his face go soft and he could see from the tilt of Hannah’s head that she had heard mention of her mother. Always eager for more stories, his daughter.

“She was the kindest woman I have ever known. I met her when I was stationed near the palace in Germany. Her family ran a bakery the King favored. She was forever giving me a discount on sweet buns. Hannah has her eyes, and her smile. We had hoped for children before I was deployed. Every time she wrote me of Hannah, I could tell how much she loved her.”

That seemed to satisfy his daughter, who moved further into the shop to avoid hearing of the Dowager Queen. The woman had never taken to Hannah and he knew it bothered the child.

“The King and his wife have not been long on the throne. The Dowager Queen is an important advisor. She has much wisdom and still holds sway in Parliament and among the people.”

Every word she listened to so carefully and took it all in, letting it all conjure a faceless picture of the woman and smiling at how much love was given to the words, warming her and thinking how lucky it would be to be so loved by someone. “I can tell how much you love her by how you speak of her and how your face changes. If her family were bakers, did she teach you or Hannah any skills? I wish I could but I’m afraid I’m not a good cook or baker. 

“It matters not how long they’ve been on it but that they are. If they are the rulers then they should be able to help you.”

The bird, now several yards out into the pond, dipped her head beneath the water as though she had never known a crate, a showman, or Edgar O'Connor in her life. Edgar watched her a moment, then huffed a soft laugh. "Worth it,"he agreed. "Though not at your expense." He looked back at Kaira, his expression sharpening with a kind of easy decisiveness. He glanced down at the coat, then gave a faint shrug. "It would, frankly, not be a lie."

A constable's distant shout carried over the park, but it was farther away now, lost somewhere behind the trees. Edgar turned his body slightly, instinctively placing himself between Kaira and the sound. "And if anyone decides to trouble you about it, send them to me. I am very practiced at being blamed." His smile returned then, warmer and easier. "In the meantime, I shall come to your shop tomorrow. Not for mending. For suits. A proper commission, properly paid. You may charge me extra for all of the inconviniences I've caused you."

His reaction to the shout was kind even if he was to blame for the predicament and she could tell that he meant what he said about his intentions. “I wouldn’t dream of it. Besides, if I did, do you really think the authorities would come knocking on a Lord's son's door over a commoner? Trust me, they wouldn’t.”

“Pardon me sir but as you can see I am quite busy and do not need to be reprimanded and I must remind you I did not ask you to deliver it. I had arranged with your company that it would be picked up by a delivery boy tomorrow or did you forget to read the delivery note in your haste come and chastise me?” 

Her face hardens seeing some of the ladies looking over at the scene. “If you come in here, to my business and my home, again with this attitude then you will not have to worry about my accounts and I’ll cite you as the reason for taking my business elsewhere.”

Aera always found art very calming for herself. When she needed to decompress after a long day she would doodle around her written out thoughts or take out some clay and sculpt whatever came to mind. On this particular day, she decided to go to Mayfair's art gallery she had grown fond of.

A sense of peace washed over her as she quietly wandered the rooms, eyes fixated upon giant paintings and sculptures that were so easy to admire. She took her notebook out while looking at a particular piece, scribbing out her thoughts. A shadow appeared next to her and she took a gentle step to the side, her eyes focused on her notebook as she wrote.

"I hope I am not in your way. I just- I needed to write out my thoughts. This art is beautiful, no?" She asked, just briefly looking over at the other person. "The colors, the texture, everything."

"So sorry, I'm looking for--" Lawrence looked around him again and groaned. Both daughter and cat were nowhere to be found. "My apologies," he nodded and cleared his throat. "That would lovely, thank you," he sat down. "Y-you haven't happened to see a little girl about this tall chasing after something she calls a cat, now have you?" he asked, tugging his collar a little to loosen it.

“For what? Something you lost? I don’t think you’ve been here before but if you’re here on behalf for someone else I can-” it was rude to interrupt him before he’d finished but she was rushed and did want to aid as best as she could. Quickly, she departs and returns with a glass of water and places it in front of the stranger. “I think I saw someone like that at the back of my shop. A little girl making animal noises? I thought the heat had gotten to her mind!”

As Kaira mentioned her business, Edgar turned back to her properly. The humour did not vanish, but it settled into something less careless. "No one is going to blame you for this," he said softly. "If anyone asks, I dragged you into it. Which is true enough, and the only thing that people would believe after all." His gaze lowered again to her dress, and then to his ruined coat.

A thought seemed to catch. "Though perhaps I can make it up to you in a more useful way." His mouth curved. "I have been loyal to the Bessette shop for years, but as you can see, my current wardrobe has met a tragic end." He lifted his arms slightly, displaying the damage with a small, helpless flourish. "So. You let me pay for the cleaning of your own gown, and I pay your shop a visit for a few new suits. Properly commissioned. No pity, no charity. Just business." His smile warmed. "And if anyone hears of it, they will hear that Ms Thanvi handled a crisis with grace, speed, and excellent taste. Which is also true. And could potentially lead to you getting new customers as well."

“I’m not a noble or from a noble family. If it means ridding someone of higher status then it’s easier to blame and put some punishment on someone like me, a merchant, than it is to someone like you.” It was an assumption. She didn’t know that he was noble or not but given her work and her past, she thought she could easily figure them out and identify them. “I’d rather pretend I was a bystander who had no part of it.” 

Curiously she eyes him but there’s an oddly endearing quality she has about him that could make anyone easily like and forgive him, she thinks. It’s a good offer. Generous, too. “If anyone asks why I was speaking with you, I can say you came to me about mending your clothes as you say,” she agrees. “I wasn’t helping with this poor animal, I just happened to walk past after it.” It was simple enough and close enough to the truth that it might stick.

“I should charge you for it,” she remarks with a scolding look but the polite and friendly smile touching at the corner of her lips gives away that she isn’t offended or upset at all that he isn’t a customer. It was horrid out there and her shop, thankfully, cooler than outside even if it weren’t by much. “I jest! Help yourself but if you are here, you could put yourself if you wouldn’t mind. The pitchers on my counter will need filling. There’s some lemons there too, if you could slice and put them in there you can help yourself to a glass.”

He wanted to make sure she knew he could pay her when he needed, that he was not so destitute that she would always be giving him things. That was not the sort of relationship he wished to have with her, though he couldn't rightfully say what sort he did wish to have with her.

"I hope that I can. She was too young to remember when her mother passed, though I answer honestly when she asks of her. Hopefully this can be something she will mostly forget." Oskar rubbed his shoulder and sighed. "The Queen and the Princess have spoken on my behalf, but the Dowager Queen is a stubborn woman. If it is not her idea she will not hear it." He realized what he had just said and winced. "Please, don't repeat that to others. I am in enough trouble."

Some part of her suspected, or knew, that her father was embroiled in some secret scandal and it was the reason why he moved from the shop in Mayfair to a quieter town when she was younger. Before she inherited the shop, she’d never seen it and only heard of it from her fathers stories and it was clear how much he loved the place. 

The concern and love he had for her was touching. Amidst all the scandal, that was clear and she noted to herself that he didn’t talk about how it affected solely him. Only her or the both of them and even then it was in relation to his daughter. “What was her mother like?” Kaira asks, softly spoken and with a reassuring but gentle look on her face. How good it was to hear the Queen and Princess had supported Oskar. He deserved people in his corner from what she knew of him. “Anything you say will stay in these walls, I’ll not repeat it to anyone. It is good and a relief that you have two of the most influential people on your side. This will pass. With the Queen and Princess speaking your favour, what could the Dowager do? Is she not just a figurehead now?”

By the time they reached the pond, Edgar’s hair had fallen into complete disarray and his coat had suffered in ways his valet would later describe as unforgivable. Still, the moment Kaira bent over the goose, smoothing down its feathers, something in his expression gentled. "There now," he murmured, crouching beside them. "No more crates. No more false prophecies. No one asking you to expose thieves for a shilling."

The goose blinked at him, suspicious. "Yes, I know," Edgar said softly, a sigh escaping his lips. "I would not trust me either." He glanced at Kaira then, his smile returning, warmer this time. "See? You are very good at this. Though I should apologise for your dress. And possibly your reputation. But mostly the dress. Reputations recover faster than silk, I've heard."

Once the animal is in the pond, she looks him over and then herself. There’s a groan from her upon seeing the mud and whatever else is on her and she can’t help but notice the state of his coat and hair. He looked as strange as he sounded when talking to the goose but she didn’t say anything. It was clear that he cared for the animal a lot. 

“I hope you’re not going to free any more creatures or any that are bigger than this.” The mention of her reputation garners a wince. In truth, she hadn’t even thought of that much. “I can only hope that nobody saw me or I’m certain my business will suffer.” She wasn’t noble like she assumed he was and she wasn’t wealthy either.

“They are pieces of your childhood, I can’t take them from you without payment.” Oskar argued. She had already told him this shop had been her father’s once and he could not let her part from something her father had made without compensation. Memories could not be so easily replaced as cloth. Who was he to ask her to part from any?

“This would’ve come to a head eventually.” He had promised the crown he was sober, and he lied. There was only so long it could have gone on. “At least it is now when her prospects won’t be hurt, and hopefully she won’t remember.”

There was something about Oskar that she liked. It might be that he seemed honorable or that she saw how dedicated he was to his daughter and how much the girl looked at him with adoration. Whatever it was, all she was certain of was that she enjoyed his company more than she had anyone else's. 

“You’ll just have to make it so all she remembers of this time are good memories.” Easier said than done but with the right care and dedication, she thought it possible. “Do you have anyone from your place of work who could speak on your behalf? Someone of influence, maybe?”

manicured nails flip the sign on the shop's entrance to announce it's opening for the day, carefully adjusting the pink and golden welcome to sit perfect within the window of the front door. reaching up, liliana flicks the bell to ensure maximum ringing was available for her customers today - she had a good feeling about today, perhaps it was because lulia had woken her with a sweet song of their homeland. patting down her skirts, the florist took a moment to admire the turquoise silk embroidered with silver and pink lillies along the edges - a gift from one of her customers - looking at her, one would never believe her to be simply a commoner.

the scent of fresh flowers fills the shop as liliana inspects each one of her blooms, collecting the ones that have become weak, wilting or simply faded. if she is to appear the best and become a supplier for the ton, she must show perfection. elegance. success.

"bună dimineaţa," her mother tongue escapes her lips as the bell rings above the door, quickly discarding of the bad flowers in the small back room hidden by a velvet curtain. "good morning, i mean," her accent is thick as she looks to her customer, a charming smile brightening her features as a twinkle shines in her eyes. "are you perhaps seeking a bloom to convey a message to someone or simply to decorate one's home?"

As soon as she enters the shop, she takes in the beautiful scents, all mixed together and making a stunning aroma. Everything about it was fresh and bought back so many memories of different flowers she’d had in the past and the ones her father bought on her birthday. 

“How about to decorate one's shop?” she says, stepping closer and returning the smile with one of her own even though she knows it does not appear as bright or charming as the owners. “I’m mostly in the shop than I am the living quarters above it. This morning I woke and thought, why not have my place looking beautiful and have something fresh and bright to make it look better or to remind me there is life outside of my business?”

the  modiste  assistant  need  not  offer  anything.  she  remains  competition;  once  friendly,  during  the  ball,  now  tinged  with  the  point  of  whistledown's  quill.  though  it  is  the  writer's  fault  for  the  failures  of  his  father?

ramón  licks  his  lips  before  slowly  sighing  through  his  nose.  "miss  thanvi!"  his  voice  barely  dents  the  din  of  the  tea  room,  but  as  he  moves  a  plate  that  served  as  a  cover  the  seat  opposite  him  was  already  occupied,  he  raises  a  hand  and  waves  the  modiste  over.  "come,  there  is  room  here."

Normally she’d visit the tea room when the shop had been long and relentless as a way of getting out and it was something she saw as a treat for herself but seeing Ramón, she nervously tries to retreat before being spotted but she stops hearing her name. “Are you certain? I wouldn’t want to intrude if you were having some time for yourself.” Tentatively she takes a seat and orders a small tea in an effort to be polite but not wanting to stay too long in case things grew awkward.