The sudden kiss to her palm, while not so unbelievable given his actions moments ago, was still unexpected. She could feel her chest tighten at the contact, and all the heat in her body flooded to her face. This whole conversation had left more questions than answers, especially in regards to his feelings towards her.

"I- I'm sure I can manage," she murmured in reassurance. "I've made my bed, so now I must lie in it. I must suffer the consequences of my..." Her what? Impropriety? Disobedience? The line between her mistakes and her father's crimes was not easily defined. He'd made many assumptions regarding her behavior—correct assumptions, yes, but they were assumptions nevertheless.

"I will survive at the very least," she finally managed with a pat to his knee.

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— MJ is MAGICAL —

"I'm sure," Richard said when Miss Scrimgeour insisted that she would be able to manage. That did not mean that he still would not worry. In fact, Richard was certain that he would worry for her all the time. It had been his constant state of being in the past while.

"I have no doubt. You are very much a fighter," Richard said with a chuckle. He knew that much about her no matter what she personally thought of herself on the matter.

  

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This was over, wasn't it? She was kidding herself if she thought otherwise. Their friendship had already been considered 'odd' because of their opposing sexes, but now they had neither jobs nor status in common to give them any reason to keep conversing. Even if there were feelings, to act on them would be social suicide.

There was no longer any way to regularly see him. No hope to hold onto. No legitimate reason to contact him. They'd had their time. She'd had her time—to act on the little flutter of her heart when she was around him, to tell him that she liked him—but now it had passed. She was ruined, and the ruin was permanent.

She diverted her gaze from him, her heart pounding as she tried to decide what the right thing to say was. He would leave, and she would sit here knowing he was just the first in a slew of broken relationships to come. Would she be alright? She may have grown up in poverty, but those days had long passed. She'd adjusted to wealth, to comfort, and she was not prepared to be thrust back into rags from her riches. Not yet. Not without preparation.

"Yes," she answered, struggling to get the word out as she swallowed a heavy lump in her throat. "It- It was nice knowing you, Mr. Gladstone. I wish you the best in your endeavors, and in your happiness."

She finally glanced up at him.

"I will miss you."

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Richard was somewhat aware of the barriers that were now between them but he didn't rightly care. He was quite wealthy in his own right, he was more than capable of taking care of her. He also didn't give two figs about what society thought about this personal life choices. He did his work well and it was very separate from his career.

Richard was clueless to her current thoughts, however, so he simply sat with her. "You speak as if we will never speak again, Miss Scrimgeour," he stated. Silly woman. Didn't she realize that his very happiness lay in continuing his friendship with her? "There will be no need to miss me for you'll always have my friendship, society be damned." His sisters would probably faint if they were to hear him.

  

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Bella could offer nothing more than a pained smile for a long moment. His words, though ideal, were far from realistic; true, real friendship was impossible to maintain without contact, and she'd already convinced herself that their contact would be limited to the times she wound up in St. Mungo's from now forward.

"Your optimism never ceases to endear me, Mr. Gladstone," she said quietly, her eyes darting back to her sheets. "But, sadly, it is not a quality I possess myself. You must know—" Admitting her fate out loud was far more difficult than pondering on it was. She could try to hold onto the last string of hope, but it was due to snap under the weight of her despair any moment now.

"... You must know that we cannot—continue." Her voice cracked as she spoke. "A friendship, or merely an attempt at one, might see you removed from guest lists. Your reputation will go down the drain. Your good sense will be question. Any chance of finding future happiness—ruined."

She bit down on her lip to avoid even a huff from escaping her lips, though her eyes were beginning to water. She wanted to remain friends. She wanted to visit him and write to him and be around him.

To do all that, though? It was selfish.

"I cannot allow my own desires to ruin an honest, good man, and neither can I allow him to ruin himself because he still sees the good in me. We- We cannot speak again. Not after this."

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No. Richard refused to give things up so easily. The strength of his feelings about how much he was against ceasing contact altogether was surprising to him. "Miss Scrimgeour, I hardly go to social events as it is, I hardly care," he insisted. His sisters would but he could hardly think of their reputations at the current moment.

"But how can I have future happiness without you in my life. Miss Scrimgeour, I don't care one lick about being seen as having a reputation or good sense." His work life and personal life were separate, in his opinion. And even if he lost his job over it - well, he was a heir. He was rich. He worked because he loved to do so not because he needed to. Richard could just as easily be a herbalist.

"The way I feel for you - I don't think it can be just friendship," Richard said, realizing this for himself only as the words left his lips. "Tell me there is no hope at all of you returning these feelings and I will do my best to leave you be. I'll try, at least."

  

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The words that slipped from his lips sounded like they came right of out one of those silly romance novels that she'd long convinced herself had no truth to them. He was willing to forsake his own reputation to simply remain in contact with her. He liked her. But at the same time, he was far, far too good for her. She knew that then.

She opened her lips to speak, but found that any words of sense (which she definitely needed at the moment, seeing that he was so quick to admit that he had none!) were incapable of leaving her lips. She could have everything she's always wanted—a man who cared for her, a way out of her family, a future to look forward to—if she only said yes.

But she couldn't.

He was too good for her.

"I- I cannot return those feelings. We're- We're just friends," she choked out after a moment, managing to bite her lip hard enough after doing so to prevent herself from falling into blubbering hysterics.

What a fool she was.

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— MJ is MAGICAL —

Richard waited for what felt like several long moments for Miss Scrimgeour to speak. She said she could not, not that she didn't. Richard clung to that, finding it a small glimmer of hope that there could be something.

"I will leave you to rest but I won't give up so easily," Richard said as he stood. "I did not hear you say that you did not, just that you could not."

  

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There was a glimmer of hope, for both him and her. She wasn't sure what reaction she'd been expecting, but the shock of his declaration—"I won't give up so easily"—made it obvious that she hadn't expected such words to leave his mouth. Mr. Gladstone was easygoing and friendly and decidedly not stubborn, but it seemed this might be the one issue he was willing to press on. That didn't, however, make the sight of him standing to leave any less heart-wrenching. She'd gone and blown her chances; she was back to square one.

"As I said, I will miss you," she reiterated softly, casting a reluctant, but undoubtedly longing glance in his direction. "Please—take care of yourself."

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— MJ is MAGICAL —