LEONORA MERCIER

Still holding her hand, Dominic lifted it carefully to his lips. His lips brushed over the newly placed ring before his smile broadened. “Now, I believe there are other things waiting for you,” Dominic said, his hand still holding hers as he gently pulls his future wife to the table. It was overflowing with delicate French sweets, confections Dominic had made just for her. “I was told these were favourites in France, so I’d hope some of them are yours.” He didn’t have a sweet tooth, but this moment wasn’t about Dominic. It was about Leonora feeling safe and wanted, with her future now tied to Dominic. The terms of their marriage had been settled with the duke and Leonora’s father. They had a date, a day to know when their lives with each other would begin. Dominic was still nervous. He’d known other people had their doubts about this match. They’d say they didn’t know each other without thinking both were trying to learn the ways of their future partner. There was time, and this was the start of it. “This is for you as well," he says, finally releasing his hand from hers, only to give Leonora a small parcel. It was wrapped in a cream ribbon with a single yellow peony tucked beneath the bow. He’d waited for Leonora to loosen the ribbon, his expression betraying his anticipation of Leonora’s reaction. Inside the box was a pair of white lace gloves, their cuffs embroidered with tiny seed pearls. “No gentleman should give his future wife just flowers,” he said, teasing a little with a playful tone. "Apparently gloves are the perfect gift for a future bride.”

giddy. leonora felt giddy, like a debutante at their first ball being whisked off for a dance with a handsome stranger as dominic led her to the table. the table was a feast for the eyes, of sweets and treats she had not acquired since returning home, her father being rather fond of pastries and meats rather than that of sugar and cream. "this is truly too much, dominic," yet the smile was unmoving from her lips as she eyed the pralines and madeleines, particular favourites from her days hidden in her rooms when it rained. it was perfect. "i feel ever-so unprepared, i should have brought a gift . . . i should have done something, you menace!" another laugh as she finally looks back to him, squeezing his hand before he releases her. another gift? leonora could count on one hand the amount of gifts the baron had given her, including the wedding ring. dominic was spoiling her already and she didn't know how to react. delicate hands take the box, taking a moment to admire the presentation before carefully picking out the carnation as to not damage the petals. "oh my goodness . . . " hazel eyes widen as cheeks flush, "they're beautiful, and the pearls . . ." like angels tears, her mother had called them, to remind us there is a heaven waiting for us one day. "you really are a menace, dominic o'connor. i love them."

Dominic’s tasks for the day were never-ending. By the time the sun began its descent over London, he’d been almost everywhere in London. The jeweller sent word that Leonora’s ring was ready, and it didn’t disappoint. The amber ring had four freshwater pearls from Ireland, delicately surrounding an amber stone. It was meant to be the perfect ring to combine Dominic and his future wife. The pearls were lovely, but the way the amber caught the light was beyond anything Dominic could’ve imagined. While Dominic was busy preparing his little surprise, he’d arranged for an anonymous letter to be delivered to Leonora. Within it, there were specific instructions, inviting her to meet a stranger in the midnight walk, but at sunset, before anyone would enter the lantern walk. It would be just theirs. He’d settled it all. He wanted the lanterns starting to glow as the sun was about to set, everything in her favourite jewel. Their engagement was settled by signatures and bartering over details, but Dominic wanted something else. Something just for them that couldn’t be shared.

When the lanterns were being lit, the sun was starting to set. Dominic was uncharistically restless. He’d arranged a table of crystal dishes, overflowing with French sweets he’d hoped Leonora liked. Ivory roses with pale peonies with climbing greenery complementing the sunset. In his hands was an emerald green box with her ring inside. He’d checked it over at least twenty times, making sure the ring was still in place. Dominic was pacing, all around this little corner he’d arranged, when he heard footsteps approach. Taking a slow breath, he turned, smiling when he saw his future wife. “I should apologise for my little deception." He laughs, clearly a little nervous. He knew he shouldn’t be. Their futures were already set, but Dominic wanted something for them, something not debated or bartered. His gaze never left hers as he sunk down on one knee, opening the green ring box to reveal her ring. “I need to ask you properly. With no audience but the sun itself. A moment just for us, if you’d still agree to be my wife?"

her ladies maid had helped arrange her gown for the outing, both comfortable and outing worthy in a deep shade of forest green, silk layers dripping down her form like liquid vines - simple, but very much, leonora. having given an excuse of attending with her ladies maid to the fair, leonora made her way to the agreed spot, slippers making contact with the ground quietly as the sound of her beating heart filled her ears - what if she were making a mistake? perhaps the baron's mother had sent someone? what if she were to be dragged back - ?

dominic.

his voice breaks her from the spiralling thoughts that threatened to overtake her mind, evident in the frozen expression of panic that was on her face. then she took in his words, soaked in the atmosphere and everything prepared, her features softening and her cheeks warming - what is this? hazel eyes watch as he sinks down to one knee, the hammering of her heart threatening to burst from her chest as realisation hit her and lips spread wide - bright and easy. leonora had heard many tales of how women felt upon the proposal, though she had never had that. the baron sent letter of his engagement to her with a neatly wrapped box of a ring much to big for her finger. "dominic," her voice is soft as she admires the setting sun, "you didn't need to do this, truly." stepping closer, she admires the ring within the box, amber, he remembered. this was not love, it would not be love, but they were to be companions and she was more than happy for this. "yes, dominic, i still agree to be your wife, i wish to be."

It felt a privilege to be handed a nickname to call Leonora. They'd only just met recently, and yet, she saw the makings of quite the beautiful friendship between them. "Nora," she said, testing the syllables on her tongue. It felt natural, comfortable. So much so that she smiled hearing it. But the revelation of her new friend's interests caused her to perk up, eyes alight with a newfound interest. "Excellent! I can give you many of them. I fear your arms will be full before you leave," she teased gently.

Ceara's own demeanor softened, reaching across the table to place her hand over Nora's. It was hesitant, but her fingertips brushed her knuckles carefully. Respectable but still offering something less intrusive than a handshake or, goodness forbid, a hug. "I would love to have you. I typically leave the gate and door unlocked during the afternoon, and I am always here by the evening. So, you're always welcome. I keep a spare key hidden beneath the windowsill by my front door."

She leaned close and lowered her voice. "Though beware, the youngest Mr. O'Connor does find himself here when I am not, as he helps me with grading, so should you not find the key there, it means he is likely here, as well."

placing down her drink, leonora claps softly at the use of her nickname - something so simple could bring the widow so much joy, it was almost bursting from the shine in her smile. "oh, it is so nice to be called such again, ceara. i must have more people call me nora," i must make lots of friends again. lips settle into a soft smile as she nods in thanks, "it is greatly appreciated, i will ensure i come supplied next time."

it felt real. a real and true friendship, like the one she shared with lottie. to be given such trust in short time, the connections between two people were not simply made but foretold in the soul - as evident with ceara and nora. "i am glad, i promise i will not be a burden, nor will i be offended if you ever wish me to leave."

"frederic?" the name tumbled from her lips as if familiar, but nora was yet to meet the man - only ever hearing his name in conversation. "i am yet to make his aquaintance."

“It did for a time." He smiled at the memory. For a time, their grandfather was distracted with protecting the precious art works and portraits while Dominic escaped. His escape didn’t last longer than an hour, but he was thankful for his brothers. “Honestly, I think they wanted to see what mess the pig would make,” he smiled again, only not as big, “but the hour or so it freed me was appreciated.” Dominic felt like a fool. Of course Leonora wouldn’t want to go back to France on her honeymoon tour. It wouldn’t be the best start of their new life together, being in a place where she was previously married. “We can go anywhere you’d like, but I’ll have to warn you I’m terrible on boats.” He hated the waves, and the Irish Sea was known for the tumultuous crossings. Seasickness usually followed Dominic when he reached land, but there wasn’t anything to be done for it.

He tried his best not to laugh, but Dominic failed miserably. “So to make sure my wife is happy, I’ll have to have endless sweet treats and greenery? I’ll note that down.” He teased again, pretending to reach for an imaginary piece of paper in his pocket. Hillsborough Castle would be overwhelming at first. The gardens, Dominic thought, were something Leonora would love. Maybe she’d enjoy the Yew Tree garden walk, but Dominic always preferred the walled garden or meadow. On sunny days, he’d swim in their lake, but that’s when he preferred peace over conversations or duties. As far as he was concerned, Leonora could do whatever she wanted to her rooms. If she wanted it for complete privacy, he’d oblige. There was a cottage on the edge of the land, but that was the dowager house. His mother would have to move in eventually. He noticed the slight blush in her cheeks and smiled. “Your rooms will be completely private,” he said, patting her hand to reassure her. “But mine won’t be closed off to you if you ever need anything.” His marchioness would be in control of her own dominion, including her rooms or part of the castle. “We have a lot of gardeners for the entire hundred-acre grounds, but they’ll be happy to meet you and help find a place for your herbs."

Dominic paused on their walk, a thought suddenly popping into his head. “I know there’s a fair coming; would you join me in attending?” He asked, oddly a little nervous. “Your ring should be ready then, but they’ll probably have sweetmeats that’ll be to your liking?”

"they sound like good brothers, no matter the mischeif." she already found a kindred soul in edgar, a friend and brother to support her through her marriage to dominic and she hoped that frederic would take to her as well - or at least tolerate her. leonora had always wished for brothers, menaces to cause headaches for her father and to tease and care for - an odd dream for a girl, but a dream nonetheless. "i am not fond of boats these days, i'm afraid," though she does not elaborate further, the crashing waves and memories return like a flash and leave her quiet for a moment before a forced smile pulls at her lips. "seasickness, of course."

oh yes, that would make her very happy. she did not need love, she did not need forced affection, nor did she need endless dresses and shoes - she could live a happy life with a table of sweets within a hidden garden of tulips and lavender. "i am easy to please, i am afraid. i do hope you don't mind your wife getting a little stuck in with the gardens, i rather like to grow my own herbs." she would understand if dominic would rather the gardeners take over that matter of her life, not every lord would want his wife on her hands on knees except from himself - though she doubts dominic would wish such from her. they were to be friends and do their duty to one another. nothing more. "if you did ever wish to come to my rooms, to see my progress, then they would be open to you, dominic," she could share her research with him, explain how she uses the herbs and demonstrate them to him. it was a thrilling thought to share such ideas with another person.

"yes, the bartholomew fair!" her eyes lit up like a child, lips stretching into a bright smile, "i would love nothing more, i've seen there is a carousel, i wonder if they have painted horses - i quite like them."

perhaps edgar o'connors poetic wordings were rubbing off on her.

"i completely agree," her gaze returns to the painting of the tulips, brushstrokes wild and unyielding against the grain of the canvas - she can image the wildness within the eyes of the artist as the moved with passion and grace to create the vibrant image. "i see joy, excitement, new life, and apprehension." her hand raises to the smallest tulip, here the strokes can be seen to be precise, as if it were to ruin the painting if it were anything but. "i believe art invokes the emotions the artist was feeling, sometimes that can reflect in our own daily lives."

He waves his hands abit. "It's alright. they arent' damanged," he slightly pouted- it almost looked like one of the ducklings in the pond. He carefully dusted off the books.

He finally looked toward the pond that she seemed to be distracted by. "Oh, you can see animals every day. What's so special about them?" He asked as if scolding her. “You know, walking while distracted could get someone hurt" He added, because clearly he wasn't trying to be mean per se...

Once, he had his books in his hand. "Where are you heading?" He knew Ceara's Cottage was this way. He wondered if this was a friend of Ceara's

"damaged or not, no piece of literature should find itself fallen." leonora held a lot of respect for books, always had, and already she was eyeing the edges of the books in case there was anything unseen to the naked eye.

"again, i apologise, sir." she flushes out of embarrassment at her scolding, almost feeling like a child being found in her father's study beneath his desk. "you would be surprised at the obscurity of animals when away from mayfair..."

features soften as she thinks of ceara, "i am off to visit a friend. we drink tea and she allows me to explore her herbs and flowers for research."

His gaze drifted toward the painting before them, where the river curved quietly through a stretch of green. It looked peaceful from a distance. Only up close could one see the brushstrokes pulling against each other, the water painted in restless little movements. "That is the trick of it, I suppose," he added. "Some pictures look calm until one stands near enough to see how much motion there is beneath the surface." He glanced back at her, his expression softening. "You need not tell me anything you would rather keep to yourself, Ms Mercier. But if you ever wish to speak of what France was like for you, or what you hope will be different now, I should like to listen."

It was offered gently, without pressing. Then, as if unwilling to leave her with too much solemnity, his mouth curved. He clasped his hands behind his back as they continued through the gallery. "When I was a boy at Hillsborough, I once brought a lamb into the breakfast room because we were convinced it looked melancholy. Our mother was furious, naturally, and delivered an entire speech on propriety while quietly feeding it bits of apple beneath the table." The memory made him smile. "That is the O'Connors, I'm afraid. Half scandal, half sentiment, and everyone pretending the sentiment is not there."

"one day we will sit with tea and biscuits, under some wild hawthorne tree on a spring day," the image paints itself from her thoughts and into the landscape before her, as if she were the brush itself creating such strokes of stress and minute details, "perhaps it will be spring, and i will tell you all about france as my brother." a gem of a sentiment, to feel open enough to give an idea of when she will open up - she must first share with her soon-to-be husband. that made her feel less open, more petrified, but she hoped such feelings were not displaying on her features.

"i fear i have heard another tale of you and frederick with animals, mr o'connor." a sly smile pulls at her lips as she recalls her chat with dominic as they promenaded, something that had not left her mind yet. "will i be subject to some animal mischeif once i enter hillsborough? i do hope it is a goat if i am."

His brothers were the cause of most of Dominic’s headaches, but he still couldn’t imagine life without them. Even with all of their mistakes, they were his brothers. Blood didn’t mean as much to Dominic as it did his grandfather. As far as he was concerned, Frederic and Edgar would always be his brothers, and the same for any children they’d adopt. “That mischief is all Edgar and Frederic,” Dominic said, smiling, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “The pigs were trying to distract my grandfather so I could sneak away from lessons.” It worked for a short time, but then the fun had to come to an end. Their mothers didn’t punish them apart from a quick telling off. “It’s only a four-day journey,” Dominic wondered out loud. “France should have calmer waters than the Irish ones. We can go there as part of the wedding tour?” Taking your new wife, who was once a French baroness, back to France, didn’t seem like a clever idea. If Leonora wanted it, Dominic would try and accommodate it.

Dominic laughed at her answer, but it wasn’t out of cruelty. He just didn’t expect that answer. In Ireland, everything wouldn’t be as sweet. Instead of the French way with smaller portions and the artful presentations, Dominic’s table was overflowing with roasted meats, plum puddings and, not to be left out, crisp desserts the French had. It would be a lot to adjust, and another worry was added to his list. “You’ll have your own room, but I hope you don’t have to use it,” he said, blushing a little before clearing his throat. “That is, you can decorate any room however you want.” He couldn’t stop beaming when Leonora mentioned the gardens. Hillsborough Castle was the O’Connor family jewel. The building was beautiful, but it was the 100-acre garden that left everyone in awe. From the walled garden with the different walks to the lake and the lost garden. “You’ll love Hillsborough Castle,” he said, a little boastful. “We’ve got walled gardens with fragrant blossoms, hidden gardens and a tranquil lake. I don’t think there’s anything like it in the world.

"you speak of them being mischeivous, yet they did such a joke to allow you an escape?" leonora can see in dominic that he loves his brothers, of course he does because they are family - but she wishes to understand the role he must play as not only their brother, but their patriarch. an imbalance of power can sometimes lead to a clash within families, and leonora wished to prevent such a fracture. if she was able in any way. shaking her head almost too quickly, leonora offers a tight smile to the offer, looking ahead rather than at dominic. "no no, i would...i would rather not return for now. one day, but not yet." each pebble she had passed over, each villager she had greeted, each child she had held, each plant she had cultivated - they called to her, but her heart was poisoned. afraid to return and be met by her mother in law who wished for her head. it would not do for a wedding tour to have the wife beheaded. no no.

"don't laugh, my lord, it is all true! my sweet tooth was rather accompanied in france, as was my need to have simple furnishings in my bedroom." she pouts for a moment, before a smile spreads upon her lips once more, much easier than the last. her bedroom had once been compared to one of a servant, or a commoner, wooden furnishings and plants scattered about everywhere - the maids had no love for tidying up as each day the mess return with more soil and scattered pages of research. upon his words, her flush returned, less pink and more rouge as it prickled her cheeks - perhaps it was because her old husband had wished for them to have seperate bedrooms and only join to fornicate, that the idea of dominic wishing her not to use a seperate room caused such a reaction. "yes, of course, dominic - though i may have to turn . . . turn my room into a sanctuary when i am ill, i would not wish to cause unjust symptoms upon the marchess." smooth. at the mention of the gardens her eyes light up, she looks to dominic once more as if she were being told she would be a published writer, glee and wonder. "do you have a single gardener or a number of garderners for hillsborough? may i meet with them and learn their ways? do you have anywhere to plant and cultivate herbs?" her questions spill unladylike and wholly curious.

"I would not worry about Frederic. He can be quiet, but he is not unkind. A kind smile and a little patience will carry you far with him." The mention of Daniella softened his expression. "My mother can be intimidating," he admitted, knowing that lady Edith had softened her, during her time on earth. "Not because she is unkind, but because she does not waste time with nonsense. She has endured too much to have patience for pretence." He looked back at Leonora, his tone gentler. "But that may serve you better than you think. She will not require you to be dazzling. She will not ask you to be untouched by the past. She will only want to know whether you are true." His mouth curved, as he listened to her tease him. This was what he ahd enjoyed about Mary Barnett's presence in his family, although it was short-lived; the idea of having a sister thrilled Edgar. "If anything goes dreadfully wrong, you may blame me. I am quite good at being the problem-brother."

Her grin pulled a quieter smile from him. There was something almost startling about seeing her hopeful, as if the woman he had met at the ball was beginning, carefully, to step out from beneath her own shadow. He looked once more at the salmon that had made it above the current. "That is not a bad omen to choose." His gaze settled on her again. "And for what it is worth, Ms Mercier, I think you may bring something good to us as well. Not merely join the family, but change the shape of it a little. Maybe to something softer." The thought seemed to please him. "Perhaps that is what families ought to do. Not simply survive what came before, but make room for what comes next."

she would have brothers. she would have a mother again. she would have a husband, a friend for life (here's hoping). edgar may not see the magic in such a tale, but to leonora it was a fairytale, and a small part of her was waiting for it to come crashing down.

"i believe i will like lady daniella, i would much rather her be straight with me than lay on a falsehood, it is all too much for one person to begin running through webs." she had experienced as much with the baron's mother, a doting mother who would do anything for her son - including choose his brides and ensure they are whipped into shape. obedient. quiet. unseen. fertile. "i suppose i will lay my cards before her, i do not wish for secrets with my future mother in law." a risky move, one would say, but she could not live under the thumb of another again, she would be open with their mother and hope she could accept her for who she was. "perhaps we can be the problem siblings together, i have caused my father far too many headaches as a young lady."

"i believe we will make great partners in this family, mr o'connor." she is thankful to have met him at the gemstone ball, an ally in a world of vipers. rare but he was true.

Charlotte's breath caught in her chest at seeing Leonora. It really was her, standing there! The last time she had seen Nora was when the baron died. It was a horrible event, of course... But Nora deserved a better man in her life. She only hoped that Dominic O'Connor was that man for her.

A smile easy graced her lips as she stepped forward, unable to help the excited chuckle that left her as she reached out to take Nora's hands. "Oh, ma vieille, it is you! I had heard of your engagement." She spoke in a low voice, worried eyes searching her friend's face. "Thank goodness we have found each other again. I have missed you terribly."

Lottie was not the best at making friends, despite being sweet and friendly enough. It was just rather difficult for her to get along with people. Not everyone liked quiet. But Nora did, and they had spent many summer evenings in the garden talking about florals and music. Confiding in each other of their hardships. Not many people had a nice friendship like theirs. She giggled again and gently pulled the other woman into an embrace.

hands slip into hands as if made for one another, platonic soulmates through and through, leonora was brightened just by charlotte's presence in mayfair. "mon cher, how delighted i am to have you with me once again," her voice carries a smile as she squeezes charlotte's hands, "i fear i may be engaged to a man who is actually quite funny."

charlotte knew the baron through leonora's retellings, many stories were hidden - she still believed her honoured duty of a wife - however, some secrets were best shared to lighten the burden on the mind and the heart. charlotte would understand the engagement as one of good fortune for leonora, even with no love she would have a friend. "i have missed you terribly," arms wrap the other up tightly, emotions seeping through the action. deep regret and guilt, relief and happiness.

"your highness." her voice is polite, a withering tone of anxiety rests beneath each word - she had been scared enough to meet the king at the gemstone ball, never mind another royal when she was in a moment of pure peace. lips form a small smile as she shakes her head at the notion.

so her engagement was making the rounds with the royals as well.

"just admiring the brushstrokes of a talented artist, your highness." true enough, and she did not see herself worthy of tulips. perhaps her bouquet will be made up of simple flowers that did well not to stand out.

Frederic had just left Ceara's cottage and was heading home- he was in an oddly good mood that day. He was becoming a teacher’s aide- maybe not something an O’Connor should be…but it was nice. He liked it.

Even though he felt like scowling just thinking of his brother and his Marriage. How dare he act as if it were all right? How Dominic could do whatever he wanted and marry whoever he wanted without anyone's permission….

So as long as he didn't think about Dominic, and whatever wench Leonora? he can’t find himself to remember. Dominic married...he felt pretty good, actually.

He was quietly walking along the side as he was making his way home. He had a few books in his hand, and he was more focused on his books than on who was in front of him. He bumps right into someone and his books drop, scattering a bit. He wasn't in a bad mood, so he only let a soft little huff out and looked at who he had bumped into. "i wasn't paying attention," He said as he bent down to pick his book up- no 'I'm sorry' or 'alright' but it was almost a good reaction from Frederic.

the anxiety of marrying as a widow was dying down as the days went on and the stares calmed down as a new scandal surely took away from the lonley ms mercier, meaning her walks in parks had grown more comfortable, whether she was with dominic or her ladies maid. today she was with neither, she was alone.

with edgar's support and dominic's strength, leonora knows this marriage would do better than that of the one to the baron - she already had one of his brother's as a friend, so surely that was better.

one moment she looks away from her path to a duck exiting the water, and the next she has caused books to tumble and a man to sigh. crouching down, leonora begins to help the man collect his belongings, "i apologise, sir. i ... i was much to distracted by animals to be aware of what was happening around me."

"Oh!" she gasped as someone bumped into her. "I-I--" she shook her head quickly. "My apologies," she managed to chirp out before really looking up and seeing who had bumped into her. "Oh, Miss Murray," she gave her a nod of her head. "How are you today?"

"my apologies for halting your entrance, miss barnett." one of the barnett daughter's she had read about, she was sure she had heard many mention the names of the daughter's at the ball, but leonora was unsure of which she was. "i am fine," she was not, "i do hope i haven't caused you any distress."

"They love the bread I bring home with oats and seeds, so I can offer you a slice to crumble for them before you depart. They may follow you back to your residence, though, so beware," she warned with a teasing lilt to her tone. But she couldn't conceive the idea that the ducks would think poorly of the other young woman. She was as sweet as pie, and Ceara was convinced they could sense that.

She offered a smile of her own, lending an ear. She was used to being a listener, as it made conversing that much easier. For once, she was grateful her parents taught her listening offered more rewards than constantly filling quiet spaces with senseless noise. "Please, just call me Ceara. And I've not given my condolences for your loss, but I am sorry for it," she said, voice softening. Glancing about her own place of peace, she nodded. "I do. I brought far too many books from Ireland to grow every plant here. I can lend you a few, if you're interested. You're fond of flowers yourself, if I recall correctly."

And then she said something she never considered, offering, "Should you need another place to escape, my garden is welcome for you. I have herbs in the kitchen for use or study, and I've just managed to successfully plant peonies."

"oh, would you?" her eyes light up like a child's on the first snowfall of the year, "i do not wish to make a bad first impression on the creatures." whilst all creatures were favoured in her world, leonora had a rather soft spot for ducks and geese; she had found them to be first animals to accept her companionship when she was little and again when she became a baronness in france - perhaps they were a sign, they tended to appear before important meetings. "though my father will be of a hardy opinion of the creatures, i'm sure i could find a room for them to rest if they were to follow."

leonora was making a friend. she once had so many that she lost count, but then she left and they all moved on as if she were not a ghost of their past - she forgot how much she enjoyed another's platonic company (other than charlotte, back in france). "ceara it is, please call me leonora . . . or nora, if you prefer." was a nickname too far? but she liked ceara, she enjoyed her company and would surely be seeing her more in the future. "i am rather, i have a small collection of books regarding herbs and plants and their purposes for medicinal uses," leonora retracts the part of her using such remedies on her own body and mind, "i would be very grateful."

the offer was a surprise and it is noticeable on leonora's features for a moment, before they soften and warm, a pink flush rising to her cheeks as she nods. "ceara, i would love nothing more than to get lost in this paradise. if you are sure you will have me?"