Inouv 42, 228: Match Maker

Match Maker
Summary: Duke of Lakeshire, Aidan Kincaid comes to visit Princess Roslin. They speak of Hadrian and the Duke's need of assistance to find the boy a match.
OOC Date: 31/12/2013 (OOC)
Related: NONE
Aidan Roslin 
Roslin's Suite
See Log
It is day 365 of the month of Inouv, 228 2E - 03:32 PM

Though it is evening, and the skies are dark outside, Roslin Kilgour's rooms are softly lit with a bustling fire and candles set all around the room. She is here only with her lady Elisabeth, who is embroidering by the fire in one of the cozy chairs. Roslin's rooms are, after all, unique. Instead of a series of rooms, this is still her childhood room, two large ones. She has seperated them with a large purple velvet curtain, leaving only teh front half visible containing a shelve of books and scrolls, a table and chairs by the window, cozier chairs and a sofa by the fire, and tapestries decorating the walls of scenes of Mobrin history. The Princess herself wears a lovely dress of bluish silver velvet today, with a bodice made up entirely of matching beads and an underskirt ruched and embroidered in silver thread. A silver tiarra sits on her crown of red braids and a silver eight-pointed star hangs about her throat. She is working amidst a pile of papers at the table, with candles halfway burnt through and ink stains on her hands. None the less, she rises when her guard comes in to announce the guest. Hands folded gently in front of her, her smile warm, she waits to greet Duke Aidan Kincaid.

The day of nights continues, the taint of Inouv still holding firm over the lands and making any light brighter in comparison. The Duke of Lakeshire responded swiftly to the invitation of the Princess, having not anticipated such a meeting to happen unless her father or mother had been present - of which invitations had been sent to both parties from the Duke, expressing his desire to see them and begin to understand the intentions of the coming months. Kincaid was a wealthy house after all and as the years went on, especially after the last war, they had been ensuring their strength continued - economically especially. The fact was, the man hadn't been to Court in about two years, since the death of his wife and while he had sent his kin in his stead, he had lost touch with the network which is so vitally important to the success of any House. To know the game and to understand it meant that one could play it, but in the two years absorbed in the loss of his wife, he had been distracted. Thus, coming was a matter of making sense of what the game was about and how he was to be a piece within it and where he was to be moved. The king and queen were understandably busy, so, he was quite surprised at the response from the Princess. Nevertheless, surprise or not, he has arrived.

The man is dressed in attire that is presentable to the Royals. He wears a vest styled doublet made of black cotton velveteen with a black satin lining, with specifically designed stripes in a trim of silver embroidery and shoulders that have a pointed flare. The undershirt he wears is a medium ivory linen, sleeves snug and arms a bit billowy. His breeches are snug though not extremely so and over them he wears fashionable boots, of course polished and shined. And upon his entrance into the Royal suite, his hand lifts to his chest as he offers a warm smile, "Your Highness," his eyes close as he does another excessive tip of his head, to show his utmost respect for her House and her position, "I am honoured that you would see me this night."

Roslin says, "Your Grace," Roslin says fondly, lowering her own head in a nod of respect and greeting. "Naturally - the moment I knew you were in the capitol I was most excited to see you. It has been several months since last we laid eyes upon each other." She approahes him then, looking over the older, taller man. She is a far cry from the little girl who came to him over a year ago, barely 15 with her hair somewhat unkept and her clothes fashionable but not particularly cared for once on her person. This is a Princess, a woman of royal birth and blood who knows how to weild both. And she is smiling at him. "Come, please. Sit with me. Elisabeth, mulled wine if you please. Unless His Grace prefers something different." She gestures toward the comfortable seats, and Elisabeth moves to follow the orders - without ever leaving the room, naturally. "I hope you will forgive my hands. I am practicing scribe work for the old Master of Laws, and I have found the stains do not easily remove themselves from my skin. Tell me - how was your journey? Did the weather make it positively unbearable?"

The impossible difference is clearly noted. If he had not known the Princess from a year ago, he might have suspected that the woman in front of him was another person entirely, an imposter. Yet time does that to people. A year ago he had been drab and morose still within his mourning that had gone longer than the year most customs decree and here he is, attired polished and neat, hair tended, eyes full of energy and behind that energy, ideas. There's even a true warmth on his lips that had been absent before. "These long months since you were in Lakeshire have had you blossom, perhaps, it was the Lakeshire Lilly itself that lent its strength to that," there is a slight wink, humour behind his tone. "That is fine-" he addresses the mulled wine and moves to sit as she gestures, nodding his thanks as he settles there politely waiting for Roslin to sit first, of course before he sat. "Ink stains are the work of dedication and long hours," he assesses, before he begins an answer to the question of his journey. That is a little longer in coming, "It naturally look longer with the season in change and the army behind us. Though it was otherwise unmentionable and decidedly normal." He laughs softly, "The weather is as the weather is Your Highness. It was a minor inconvenience, I assure you." He cants his head, "And how are you faring? Evidently you're keeping up with the education of law?"

Roslin does seem truly happy to see the man - it shows on her face, in an open and honest way. She settles herself down as comfortably as a Princess might - perched on the edge of her seat, feet flat on the ground, back straight and head high, with her hands light in her lap. "Study, perhaps," Roslin says ruefully, lifting her hand and looking over it. "But hardly the sort of hand one greets respected nobles and important dignitaries such as yourself with, Your Grace."

"I attribute much of my growth and maturity to my time spent in your halls, sir. I shalln't forget them, or your hospitality, as long as I live. I am only happy now to have some small way to return the great kindness you showed to me. Your family is, I hope, doing as well as you expected? I confess I do not see them as often as I would like. I occasionally see Hadrian, though I hope to speak to him more as his time and business allow. You all must join my family for dinner sometime soon. We should all be so happy to have you. Once you are settled, of course. ARe you finding the capitol much unchanged, and at all to your liking? I find so many Lords and Ladies much prefer their own homes to this one - too much business in this place, I think."

The maid comes back with teh wine and offers to Roslin first, who accepts with a nod and sips. Then Aidan recieves his. "I am keeping as busy as I am able. I am too young and inexperienced for council business, but I endeavor that when I am old enough I shall be as useful as I can to the court and the realm." She pauses for a moment, and adds with a slightly softer touch. "If I am not married away by then, of coruse."

Aidan isn't as so formal as Roslin with the way he sits, perhaps because he's accustomed to her company or that his age at least gives him some amount of freedom to sit as he wishes. It is still with a straight back mind, just with his knees a bit apart and one leg pulled up to cross the other, while his elbow is poised on the arm of his chair. "Your Highness, if I may be so bold, I would say that such formalities are passed between two of such history together. You spent a year in my household and for that, I would care for you as my own." Well, isn't he all charming today, "The ink upon your fingers do not stain any relationship between us." Clever witted too.

The mirth that stays in those brooding hazel eyes tip down again, at the respect that she gives him for her maturity, the flattery accepted, a retort nevertheless, "I think it has much to do with your own choice in the woman you've become. The time within our halls can only strength what was already well rooted." There's a touch of curiosity to how she wishes to return kindness, of course he does not prob, instead answers diligently enough, his baritone voice kind, "Aemy's, my eldest daughter, has given twins to her husband, Lord Heir Robben Ruxton," he smiles at that, "And my other daughter Lynette is here in the city with me. Of Bowen I have not seen, though I imagine since he is not back at my House, he must be serving your brother well as a squire. The others are all of course, being Kincaid's." He chuckles, though casually avoids speaking directly of Hadrian. "I'm sure we'd be honoured as guests to your table, Princess," he still avoids anything about Hadrian. "The Capitol has changed in only style and whatever trend passes it by, and perhaps a few of the people are different, though for the most part, it is how I recall it. A busy place, always someone to pay a visit to." A market to foster networks and to harbour negotiations of the most import.

Only until the last does he nod, "Then that is on the horizon as I had feared, hrm. I suppose your Queen mother and your father the King, have already set you on such a course?" And now he seems to have an interest, or perhaps, some regret.

Roslin seems most pleased at his words, and her smile surpasses warmth. It becomes open and true, the smile of a girl this man once knew and not just the Princess she has become, although that woman is there too. "You have always been so kind to me. I only feared you might think that our … friendliness might lead me to believe and behave more casually toward you. I keep your whole family - but especially you, sir - close to my heart, but beyond that I have the utmost respect and admiration for you and your house. Stained hands or no, friendship or no, I never wish that to get lost between us."

"I must admit I have never had the pleasure of meeting your eldest, though I have met Robben Ruxton in passing and his younger brother extensively." Naturally, since that younger brother went on to hastily marry Princess Caillin Kilgour less than a year ago. I see Bowen quite often, and as I understand it he has made himself invaluable to my brother. You should be extremely proud." The wine is sipped, gently, a small little taste, always careful not to overindulge. When she lowers the cup, there is a flush in her cheeks - a redness, brought on perhaps by the wine or perhaps by his final words. "I … my parents hold such discussions. Naturally I am not privy to them. I only wish to serve as well as I may and be as useful to the realm as my worth allows." She nods a little, dropping her gaze. But courtly demeanor wins out, and she's soon smiling at him again. "No doubt you have many old friends to see. Have you managed to meet with many of them yet? Or perhaps our recently-aquired menagerie of foreign diplomats and royalty?" Courtly gossip is her trade, after all.

Those words from the Princess have the Duke rather pleased, not for the words themselves but for which the manner in which she speaks them, a sincerity behind them, an honesty that secures the strands of loyalty, at least from person to person, if not from House to House, or vassal to liege. "I would rather us be honest with one another and not play too heavily in the game of words," though the politeness remains, nevertheless, nodding, "As I have grown accustomed to seeing your growth and success as dearly as you were my own. So too then, do I hope it should never get lost between us."

The mention of Bowen has him perk up a little more visibly, as if he hadn't heard the news of how invaluable the boy has been to the Prince, "Ahh that warms my heart. Bowen, as you know, is not fond of writing us… especially so, after his mother passed." He shakes his head a little and looks distantly thoughtful, for a moment, "I should be pleased to see him, bearing of course, that I can find him when he is not in service to the Prince." Being a Squire was sometimes a twenty four hour position, early risings and late nights. "I'm glad to hear he hasn't made himself in any trouble, so perhaps, with his exchange to your House, the favour of you coming to ours, has been returned in full, for that boy-" he laughs here, "-he would always make light of his training."

As for the parents and the discussions, he nods, "It is what I find myself doing for my own children and they are about the same opinion as you are. I would like to find them matches to which they can utilize in ways beyond the bedroom. A strain on the heart after all, leads men and women both down difficult paths." Ahh, the romantic in him creeps to the surface but then is stuffed back down when he sighs, "Unfortunately, for most of the time, we must play our children like pieces on the chess board. At least for Aemy, it seems we did well to find her happiness." While she's done her duty all the same.

"Since the day of my arrival, I have been doing nothing but establish old friendships and invite new ones to my House." As for the foreign courty gossip, he laughs, "Indeed. I would like to host the foreign Prince and Princess of Moniwid, if I can get the opportunity. I'm not one to let a chance slip by to secure more favour from their kingdom."

"I too prefer honesty," Roslin admits, sipping her cup again. "One of my favorite stories to share with new girls of court is the importance of embroidery." New girls of court are likely older than she is, and yet she speaks as though she is emparting great wisdom. "Those who love it for it's own sake are few and far between, I have found. But the skill is positively invaluabe. For when you find yourself trapped in the Salon for hours on end with the Dowager so-and-so, who sees fit to fill your ears with talk of her yappy pet or her newly born fourth grandson, you will dispair without something to occupy your hands and mind a little!" Roslin smirks a bit, a mischevious little smirk that the man likely saw more than once during her stay. Usually before she stuck her tongue out at Hadrian for something or other. "That is often much of my day, so it is conversations like this that remind me to love my duties."

Roslin takes another sip of her cup and lowers it slowly, her eyes cast downward in a pensive look. "Perhaps I pry too much, your Grace. But I am my mother's daughter, and I have found that I have been … of some assistance in the matter of arranging matches." Potential to be of assistance, but she won't go into too much detail. "I am familiar with most of the ladies and young gentlemen of court, and would be happy to advise or assist to arrange any meetings for your children to seek suitable marriages. Or yourself, if you are so inclined." She broaches the topic gently, but not conversationally - she does not diminish the weight of such subjects. "If you have in your mind some agreements or alliances you wish to strengthen or gain through marriage, and knowing your house better than most, I may at least be able to make some recommendations."

The revelation that the women use embroidery for avoidance of conversation or at least a method of concentration elsewhere, has him laugh, no matter how many times Isys told him of such, it still amuses him to know. His laugh is an easy one, a regal rumble in his chest, produced around quietly stretched lips. "The ladies of the Court are surely clever to hide their trueness behind the needle and the thread. I imagine you must learn a great deal, when you are assumed to be absorbed in your task and yet your ears are attentive to the world around you," his gaze floats over toward her own lady in the room, then back to the Princess, aware that this conversation isn't just for their ears alone. Rarely are.

"It is a skill that you too have to learn-" he does admit as she tells him that she's her mother's daughter and can offer assistance in marriages, "For one day, perhaps it will be your place to do so for your own." As for her being familiar with the younger generations, he nods, "I would be a blind fool to dismiss such an offer. I'd happily take what assistance you were willing to give." That too, he appears sincere about. He's of an older world, the younger generations look up with him, some with respect, some with envy, some with the ambitions to see him and others of his merit and experience removed. The one of himself, while not far fetched, does make him look down for a moment. In a languid motion that indicates some piece of him forever lost, he does quietly speak, "If fortunes were to favour me with another wife, I'd be happy for it, all the same." Not a yes, not a no, more of a if it happens, it happens. There is a gentle gesture of his hand, "I'm concerned for my eldest son. He has not come across many young women who are remarkable enough to be a future Duchess. There's perhaps only one that I ever thought to see him with, though, such, is a far stretched possibility." So now, he speaks of Hadrian…

"Why, Your Grace," Roslin says, feigning innocence. "I am quite sure I do not know to what you are referring. It sounds as though you hint at eavesdropping, but I am sure no lady of the court, much less myself, ever dare stoop so low. It is simply dishonorable." Ah, she too can tease, it seems, and her smile is mirthful and mischevious once more.

The mischief fades and becomes more sincere as she nods to his words regarding his own marriage. If it happens, it happens indeed. Hadrian, at least, makes her smile. "I can see your concern, Your Grace. Your son is a … unique creature, even among such colorful nobles as Mobrin may boast. And yet, it is the month of Inouv awhile longer. Stranger things have happened than a marriage agreement during such a time." There is something deeper in her words and her tone. No doubt she has some incident on her mind, and it causes her to lower her eyes a brief moment, though she does not speak up about whatever it may be. "And if I may be of assistance, I shall happily do so. Though I can think of at least one or two young ladies who may also suite, if your own thought proves to be as impossible as you fear. But let us hear it, first, and we shall reflect upon it privately, between us." And the wall and the maid. You may be an older man, with fatherly opinions, Duke Aidan. But you are still a man and Roslin an unmarried maid.

"I would never suggest the Royal Highness of such dishonourable things," he smirks in response to her look of innocence, "Nor for that matter any lady. Though do not disregard that a man may seem lost in his cups and he is actually doing as the woman with her needle." A fondness there but otherwise, he seems content with the jest between them so.

His concernable topic earns a supressed snort at her delicate way of putting it, "Unique is not quite the word I would choose to use." There is an edge to his tongue now, having never exactly shown approval or fondness of the eldest son, not even in public. This is perhaps the first time he's expressed some 'concern' over the matter. "I'm afraid I'm in need of a woman for him that can tower over him, rein him in when necessary, wear armour against the hardness of his own heart—" oh yes, the Duke is now free in his thoughts about his Heir, disapproving a polite word to describe how he feels, "She needs to be powerful and brilliant at the same time. I would hope, she could find a crack in him to wear him down, to become the other half to that boy and show him the way." He looks across at Roslin now, the conversation having caused him to grip his mulled wine excessively hard, the wine swishing in the confines of the glass, "He would not do with any woman… He is like a bull in a china shop, as they say." There's a long exasperated sigh from him, "It is a most impossible task. I fear you were the only one he was able to be… comfortable with. Though my House is but a minor drop in the pudding, a waste to your affections I'm sure." He shakes his head, "Tell me then, how do we find him another Roslin? Hrm?" Bomb. Dropped.

Roslin shakes her head. "Perhaps, although in my limited experience men often use such an excuse to pretend they are not nearly so far down in their cups as they truly are. A lady can only delve so deeply into embroidery, no matter what she pretends." The Princess' own hold on her wine cup is gentle and easy, even though the stains on her hands show terribly when she lifts her cup to her lips.

"Hadrian is … well, you are not wrong in anything you say. And I daresay you know him far better than I. But for all his faults I have found him to be capable and clever. He shall be a difficult Duke, I do not doubt it. For all his other traits, he inherited his father's resiliance. But I do not believe that through him your house shall see ruin - something other houses, now, are near to facing."

And then, of course, he drops that bomb. Roslin flushes, bright pink in the cheeks. Adrian could put his hands and feet near that glow and stay warm through Inouv's darkness. It seems to throw off Roslin even more than the Duke might have expected. He cannot know it is because this is the second Duke, or Duke's heir, that Roslin has been suggested for in the course of two days. "I … had no idea, your Grace. Hadrian and I have a comfortable friendship, but no … I never imagined that I might be the only one to manage him." She manages a smile. "Indeed, I am sure I am not. Perhaps I am only the first woman he has been so comfortable with. But he is young - and I daresay there will be others for him. No doubt if my family had anything they might discuss with yours for such an end, my Father and Mother would surely see to it." After all, it would be inappropriate to discuss one's own prospects. Scandalous, really. "But your house is one of the strongest in the realm, and closest to my heart, I know. I woud strive to see it succeed. The court is large, sir. And as I said there may be … a woman or two who might tempt your son to propriety. With your permission, I would happily discuss it with my mother. And if she agrees, I will present my thoughts to you in the near future."

The first is not addressed, left to it as it is. As for Hadrian, well, that matter seems to be the one in which is attended to most carefully and yet not so. It could be scandalous for him to discuss his son's prospects with Roslin, and yet, he does it so. "I did not mean any disrespect or ill speak to you, your Highness, I had only wished to remark on how capable you are, as Hadrian is not a man easily handled, if he can be handled at all. Surely in the years to come, we will see what measure of Duke he will be —" predicting his own demise is he? Well it's only natural for a Kincaid to assume as much, if one had been a wise scholar and historian. "I imagine that in your time, where ever you find yourself to be, you will have such dignity and perseverance, that the people will adore you, as I have learned to do so over the last year," there is no holding back here. His compliments continue to flourish from the man, a sip of mulled wine only to wet his lips before he continues, "Aren't all Kincaid Dukes, difficult?" He adds a touch of humour to that.

Though he does continue, trying to be ignorant of her bright pink cheeks. He knows not if that is a good sign or not, to have her blushing at such words. "It is an impossible match, for I am certain your prospects are vastly more important and higher than that of my House. Even foreign." He is not quite as out of touch with the Court as he first appeared to be. The wit and the intelligence behind those hazel eyes suggests he is the scheming man he has always been, the man that kept Lakeshire through the waves of economic depression and war. "I just mention it to you, for it was important to my son that he come speak to me about you. I wasn't so sure if it was a mutual understanding or if you were simply showing him a friendship he has not become to understand with any other." His words are careful but bold, blunt, and forward. "I can only hope. Otherwise, if I leave it to his hands alone, I fear that he will not wed and should live a life of bold ambition, which may create future discord between my House and your own." As if he could tell the future, but he did know his own son.

"Please, look for me, Your Highness, for my eyes see naught but despair for him. You know him from your times spent studying, perhaps he showed you a side to him he never showed me." He stands now, putting aside the mulled wine, "But I beg you forgive me for taking up your time with such matters. I would love to entertain you further. Though there are many others I must see before the war takes them." And steals away his chance to do any negotiating until it was over. The last has him put his fist to his chest again, "If you think it is appropriate, I would gladly accept and wish of it to discuss the matter, as you see fit."

"No, Your Grace. You honor me with your trust. There is no disrespect here - not between us. Not ever, I should hope." She smiles at him, but there is something sad and forlorn in her smile, even as she speaks. "As for my own prospects, I beg you not speak of them as so far removed from houses such as your own. Vassals such as your family have kept mine strong for hundreds of years. Indeed there is no more important thing than strengthing such domestic ties." And yet, as she speaks, her eyes cast to the floor a little for just a moment.

"I will promise that there was no understanding between myself and your son. He was and remains to be a friend. Beyond that you shall have to speak of my father, for me to speak any more on the topic would not be appropriate."

The Princess rises as the man does, even now remaining on ceremony in a display of respect and admiration. "I shall keep my eyes wide for your son, and will speak to you if I find any potentially suitable arrangements. I may do this much for your family, at least. I thank you for your visit, and hope in the meantime that you will come to see me as often as you can. Your handsome face always serves to lighten my heart." She says it with a sincere smile, nothing flirtatious about it at all. More as a daughter might compliment her father than anything else. "Now come and kiss my cheek before you take your leave. I command it." Teasing again, yet commands are commands, even when given with a light, friendly tone.

"My frankness is a symptom of knowing your mother since childhood, I'm afraid. I see her in you and hope for the same measure of trust I found in her, to be reflected in you," he is thankful that she has not taken offense by any of his bold words this night. As for local prospects, he nods with a soft tip of his chin, "It has been a while since our great Houses had such a union. Perhaps one of my kin, or the grand children of my kin may find hope in Kilgour's embrace once more." Read between the lines, Kincaid's have not wed to Kilgours for many long years, perhaps a grandmother some many moons gone was the last. Even so, there is much needed doing to keep the local Houses pleased, with the strength that they provide the Crown.

As for the prospects of herself, he puts his hands up as if to stall any further words, surrendering to her acknowledgement of how inappropriate it would be for him to speak further. Yet, he's not insulted. It is her right to stop any conversation not of her liking. She is the Princess. Her continued remark though that she would look for him, has him smile with appreciation, "That is certainly more than I can ask and I appreciate your offer, all the same." There's a moment where he steps around the pieces of furniture or whatnot to be more politely square with the Princess, "It pleases me to visit, as much as you will it." He gives a good natured laugh at her remark of his handsome face and commanding him to kiss her on the cheek, grinning as if he just won a tourney or a lady's favour, his tall stature stepping forward to oblige the request. The matter is kept strictly polite, a quick peck to the cheek before he lowers himself before her, "Thank you, your Highness for having me. It was a pleasure." He straightens, "Rest well on these days of nights. The light keep you safe and warm. Good night."

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