Like the Sun We Will Rise Again - Printable Version
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Like the Sun We Will Rise Again - Marie-Louise Prewett - October 22, 2021
October 2, 1891 - The Bagshots' Home in Wellingtonshire, Hogsmeade
We may lose, and we may win,
But like the sun we will rise again.
-Rescue Me, Daughtry
But like the sun we will rise again.
-Rescue Me, Daughtry
The rich warm music flowed around Malou, the tones floating into the parlor as her fingers danced along the keys of the piano, years of practice coming back to her. It wasn't often that Malou got play piano now, but she had sat on the bench of the piano when she was still a small girl and diligently learned. Her mother had added harp to her lessons a few years later, but Malou had never felt the same connection to it that she did with the piano. Whenever she saw the one sitting in Mrs. Bagshot's parlor her fingers ached to play it, to wash the world away with music. Her godmother understood and often when Malou was persuaded to join the Bagshots for a social gathering, be it tea or supper, Mrs. Bagshot often suggested Malou play piano for their guests, allowing Malou to indulge in the music she so loved, but also allowing her a repreive from social nicities she always found so difficult.
As she played she forgot the world around her, forgot the grueling schedule of the week, that her rare Saturday off saw Fallon out of the apartment, forgot that the days that lingered between her and moving out of the flat were quickly dwindling. Indeed, she was so focused on the music she didn't even hear the butler announce a guest, until after that voice spoke. She knew that voice. Malou's fingers stilled as her heart seemed to grow faster, she turned to Mr. Prewett with an owl like blink, entirely unsure what he had said or what she should say.
Faustus Prewett
RE: Like the Sun We Will Rise Again - Faustus Prewett - October 23, 2021
Though he hadn’t been planning on visiting the Bagshot household for a bit more (he’d certainly planned on calling upon Miss Skovgaard, but hadn’t planned on so soon), Faustus had received word from Aunt Hermione that she’d forgotten something at the Bagshot’s. A quick owl later and Faustus found himself running errands for his aunt after he’d gone into the office for the morning.
Except, the butler seemed to have mistaken the reason for his visiting, and instead of being escorted to Mrs. Bagshot as he’d expected, Faustus found himself being led back into the same parlor he’d been seen to last time. This time, however, he was welcomed by a warm melody floating through the hallway. There was something so strangely familiar about the tune too, though he couldn’t quite put his finger on it as he stepped through to the parlor. Taking off his hat, Faustus tucked it under his arm. Bless the family butler, he tried, though it seemed Miss Skovgaard missed the introduction. He opened his mouth to attempt once more, but Faustus stopped him with a keen smile, not wanting to interrupt her as she played.
As the butler stepped out to call for a chaperone, Faustus walked towards the piano. She was angled slightly away from him, completely engrossed in the song. With the sunlight from the afternoon spilling around her through the window, it suddenly occurred to him where he had heard this song before, and he smiled. Though he was loathe to interrupt her, the curiosity of if his assumptions were correct won out: “Miss Skovgaard.”
As suspected, she immediately stopped. He could see her hesitate for a moment before turning her gaze to him, and he gave her an apologetic smile. “I’m so very sorry for interrupting you.” He began with a nod of his head. “You play beautifully.”
Except, the butler seemed to have mistaken the reason for his visiting, and instead of being escorted to Mrs. Bagshot as he’d expected, Faustus found himself being led back into the same parlor he’d been seen to last time. This time, however, he was welcomed by a warm melody floating through the hallway. There was something so strangely familiar about the tune too, though he couldn’t quite put his finger on it as he stepped through to the parlor. Taking off his hat, Faustus tucked it under his arm. Bless the family butler, he tried, though it seemed Miss Skovgaard missed the introduction. He opened his mouth to attempt once more, but Faustus stopped him with a keen smile, not wanting to interrupt her as she played.
As the butler stepped out to call for a chaperone, Faustus walked towards the piano. She was angled slightly away from him, completely engrossed in the song. With the sunlight from the afternoon spilling around her through the window, it suddenly occurred to him where he had heard this song before, and he smiled. Though he was loathe to interrupt her, the curiosity of if his assumptions were correct won out: “Miss Skovgaard.”
As suspected, she immediately stopped. He could see her hesitate for a moment before turning her gaze to him, and he gave her an apologetic smile. “I’m so very sorry for interrupting you.” He began with a nod of his head. “You play beautifully.”
RE: Like the Sun We Will Rise Again - Marie-Louise Prewett - October 23, 2021
"Thank you," Her cheeks warmed at the praise, but also his consideration on not expecting her to know what he had said. It was a consideration not many people would have allowed her that. "Mr. Prewett." She nodded slightly, an almost distracted hello as she forced herself into the present.
Knowing the kindness he had given her, Malou turned on the stool, her skirts swishing gracefully around her legs as she placed her hands gently in her lap. Her fingers strained to play again but instead she clasped her hands and allowed her mind to focus on Mr. Prewett.
She had dwelled on the fact that he wished to see her again since Wednesday's tea, but it had only been three days since then and his appearance so soon startled her. She doubted that it was Mrs. Bagshot's meddling this time as Malou had decided to surprise Mrs. Bagshot herself with a visit. The woman had been fretting over Malou since last Sunday and it seemed a kindness to spend some time for her. They had spent the morning together and Malou had promised to stay for supper as well. However, in the afternoon hours Mrs. Bagshot had declared she had some social calls to make and would soon arrive back. So Malou had been left with some time on her own.
RE: Like the Sun We Will Rise Again - Faustus Prewett - October 24, 2021
He’d hesitated slightly - Miss Skovgaard seemed rather bewildered, and he felt the beginnings of guilt at having interrupted what seemed like a rather pleasurable activity for her. Given that the events at the Sanditon were only one week ago she more than deserved any sort of leisurely activity she saw fit. “I apologize for the interruption,” He stated again, running a hand through his hair.
“My aunt requested I fetch something for her here, but it’s just occurred to me that she neglected to tell me exactly what it was I was looking for.” He peered at her curiously as something dawned on him. He felt his ears redden slightly and he ran a hand through his hair again. “I wanted to inquire after you to make sure you got more of that rest, we’d discussed.” Faustus grinned, knowing it was likely she wouldn’t have gotten any, same as he. But he hoped he was wrong.
“My aunt requested I fetch something for her here, but it’s just occurred to me that she neglected to tell me exactly what it was I was looking for.” He peered at her curiously as something dawned on him. He felt his ears redden slightly and he ran a hand through his hair again. “I wanted to inquire after you to make sure you got more of that rest, we’d discussed.” Faustus grinned, knowing it was likely she wouldn’t have gotten any, same as he. But he hoped he was wrong.
RE: Like the Sun We Will Rise Again - Marie-Louise Prewett - October 24, 2021
"It is quite alright." Malou assured him. Like sugar in her tea, the piano was something she only indulged in at Mrs. Bagshot's home. However, it was the one luxury that Malou missed in the loft. She could live without the trappings of luxury, but she missed the music.
Ah, that explained the visit again so soon. "I'm sure Mrs. Bagshot will know precisely what it is when she returns." Malou certainly didn't despite knowing of her godmother's friendship with Mrs. Longbottom, indeed she had been at plenty of dinners with the woman in residence, not that Mrs. Bagshot had managed to get Malou married off yet. Having met Mr. Beckett Longbottom this spring Malou was inclinded to believe that was likely a good thing. Rosamund had laughed when Malou told her of the incident and Malou rather felt that was the appropriate response. Although part of her wondered how Mr. Prewett would have handled a biting flower. None of this, however, explained what Mrs. Longbottom would be requesting from her godmother.
Her eyes looked over him, assuring herself that was indeed healed. He looked tired, she was noting when surprise took over her. His ears looked slightly red. His question, indeed the attention it hinted at, made Malou's stomach tighten and her own cheeks warm slightly. But she found herself giving him a guilty smile, a half laugh on her lips. Of course she hadn't. "I suspect no more than you." There she went again, teasing someone she had no business teasing. The back of her neck grew warm but it was too late to take the words back.
RE: Like the Sun We Will Rise Again - Faustus Prewett - October 29, 2021
Aahh...alas. The grin on Faustus' face didn't fade though; if anything, it widened as he chuckled to himself at having lost his bet. He inclined his head, the smile still tugging at his lips. "You wouldn't be wrong on that score, Miss Skovgaard," He responded, adjusting his hat under his arm and switching his gloves from one hand to another. He resisted the urge to gently remind her she needed rest and instead focused his attention to her.
"I suppose I shall leave it, for now, however do not think we're finished with this dilemma for either of us." They were both too dedicated to their work, that much was true. But Faustus was too amused by their similar tactics to truly take it further. The teasing tone that emitted from him was a foreign one; though he wasn't without humor, it had been quite some time since any sort of similar feeling had made itself known.
Hoping this feeling wouldn't befuddle him too much, Faustus nodded towards the piano again as his previous question resurfaced. "I couldn't help but recognize the song you were playing." He said, thinking back to the night of the symphony; the music then had floated through the air just as serenely as they had when Miss Skovgaard played. Truth be told, he'd found himself thinking of that very song occasionally, though never often enough to question why until he'd just walked into the room.
"I suppose I shall leave it, for now, however do not think we're finished with this dilemma for either of us." They were both too dedicated to their work, that much was true. But Faustus was too amused by their similar tactics to truly take it further. The teasing tone that emitted from him was a foreign one; though he wasn't without humor, it had been quite some time since any sort of similar feeling had made itself known.
Hoping this feeling wouldn't befuddle him too much, Faustus nodded towards the piano again as his previous question resurfaced. "I couldn't help but recognize the song you were playing." He said, thinking back to the night of the symphony; the music then had floated through the air just as serenely as they had when Miss Skovgaard played. Truth be told, he'd found himself thinking of that very song occasionally, though never often enough to question why until he'd just walked into the room.
RE: Like the Sun We Will Rise Again - Marie-Louise Prewett - October 29, 2021
At his use of we're and us, Malou's stomach tightened and her eyes lightened as she chuckled. "I am inclined to agree." She tilted her head toward him in silent acquiescence.
She looked at the sheet music on the piano and then back to him, her face shy at the mention of her playing piano again - and indeed, the reminder of their meeting. "They played it at the symphony." She admitted, a bit sheepishly. Then, because she was self concious of her playing (after all it had been such a long time since she had any sort of regular practice), she added, "I don't think just piano does it justice though. But it is better than no music at all."
RE: Like the Sun We Will Rise Again - Faustus Prewett - November 2, 2021
The barest hint of a flush that bloomed in her cheeks at the mention of the symphony was enough confirmation for Faustus that he’d been correct. Though he was certainly not musically gifted enough to play the piano beyond a few chord progressions he’d learned as a child, he did have a taste for it and found himself smiling that the song that played the night they’d met was not only following him around, but her as well.
“Nonsense,” He countered, waving his hand to dismiss her excuse, for he found her playing quite lovely. And besides, he had absolutely no room to pass judgement even if he was inclined to. “Music, whether it be alone on one sole instrument or on many has its own charm to it. I’ve always found that what matters is the player.”
“Nonsense,” He countered, waving his hand to dismiss her excuse, for he found her playing quite lovely. And besides, he had absolutely no room to pass judgement even if he was inclined to. “Music, whether it be alone on one sole instrument or on many has its own charm to it. I’ve always found that what matters is the player.”
RE: Like the Sun We Will Rise Again - Marie-Louise Prewett - November 2, 2021
Mr. Prewett had a point, music was music. It had a certain magic to it that no charm could ever hold up to. It seemed to almost be a living thing itself, with emotions, and thoughts, and even presausion. But there was music that was meant to be played as a symphony or sung by a chior. Handel's Messiah for instance would sound out of place if only one singer sang Hallelujah chorus. It simply was not meant to be a solo. It was meant to be a thunderous piece for many voices swirling up the stone walls of a church, echoing across the beams of the celiling, seeping in the souls of those who listened to it.
It depends on the player. The words sunk in and Malou's cheeks grew even warmer at the implication. Did he like her playing then? Or was he trying to let her down gently? Malou knew she was out of practice but she knew her own skill on the piano. She knew she was not terrible, and yet her mind swirled like a school girl. The farmiliar circling thoughts creeping in at her, making her wonder what to say, what to do. It was a large part of the reason that she had despised making her debute that first season, part of the reason why making friends had always been so hard for her. In fact, it had been hard enough that she really only made friends with people who Fallon was friends with. Over the years she had gotten better at it, but still it was a stuggle - a struggle which seemed to be worse in the face of Mr. Prewett, who (she was surprised, and yet not surprised, to find) she rather hopeed to get to know better.
To pull herself out of the thoughts, she ignored the comment. She was not some debutante versed in the happy reportaite of a drawing room. She was Malou Skovgaard, shy and passionate. She reminded herself to keep her spine straight, to look Mr. Prewett in the eye, to ignore the word circling in her mind (player, player, player) and only to consider the conversation at hand. "But surely you can agree that some pieces are simply not meant for a solo instrument? Take for instance Handel's Hallelujah chorus from the Messiah. If there were only a solo alto singing in place of a full choir the peice would be lacking, more than lacking, it would make no sense at all."
RE: Like the Sun We Will Rise Again - Faustus Prewett - November 4, 2021
Faustus quirked a smile at her rebuttle. Though he knew she had a passion for music, it was this that really confirmed her thoughts. She had a point. One lone voice in what should be a great chorus of voices echoing throughout the building was a poor example of what a powerful song could be. And yet, it also occurred to him that this might have been the most he'd heard her speak in quite some time, never mind the fact that he'd only known Miss Skovgaard for nary a month.
He decided he liked it, and would quite be interested in hearing more.
So, despite the fact that he quite agreed wit her, he found himself inquiring, "Would it?" It was not a challenge, but moreso a thought. Of course, Hallelujah was meant to be sung in an entire chorus, weaving a story for the entire audience to see; so vivid one might be able to see the chorus of angels dancing upon the sound of the chorus. "Or would the presence of one lone voice in the beginning prove to be such a striking contrast?"
He could envision it starting out as one voice, something that would surely take the audience by surprise. But given its position in the Messiah, just before Part III, it might prove to be a stunning contrast. "Instead of one choir of angels, perhaps a director wants to build the sense of victory - the sense of glory and make the audience feel it too. One voice becomes two, and two become three and so on and so forth. Until finally the full might of the choir finally hits in the crescendo."
He was certainly no conductor, nor a musical genius, but he was intrigued to hear her thoughts on the setting he'd just built for her to critique, and he peered at her with an inquisitive gaze, searching her reaction.
He decided he liked it, and would quite be interested in hearing more.
So, despite the fact that he quite agreed wit her, he found himself inquiring, "Would it?" It was not a challenge, but moreso a thought. Of course, Hallelujah was meant to be sung in an entire chorus, weaving a story for the entire audience to see; so vivid one might be able to see the chorus of angels dancing upon the sound of the chorus. "Or would the presence of one lone voice in the beginning prove to be such a striking contrast?"
He could envision it starting out as one voice, something that would surely take the audience by surprise. But given its position in the Messiah, just before Part III, it might prove to be a stunning contrast. "Instead of one choir of angels, perhaps a director wants to build the sense of victory - the sense of glory and make the audience feel it too. One voice becomes two, and two become three and so on and so forth. Until finally the full might of the choir finally hits in the crescendo."
He was certainly no conductor, nor a musical genius, but he was intrigued to hear her thoughts on the setting he'd just built for her to critique, and he peered at her with an inquisitive gaze, searching her reaction.
RE: Like the Sun We Will Rise Again - Marie-Louise Prewett - November 5, 2021
Malou nodded her head in mild agreement as she considered it, almost hearing the music in her head. She was a fair singer herself, but had always been too shy to demonstrate that skill, besides her voice was firmly in the alto range, it would hardly soar beautifully on it's own unaccompanied. "I think it would depend on the soloist's range. A soprano or a tenor, perhaps, but I would be disinclined to believe an alto might be able to do the same thing for the piece." Malou's eyes met his gaze, holding steady as she calmed herself with the discussion, ignoring those thoughts swirling in the back of her mind.
But that had hardly been the point she was trying to make. As deftly as she could she brought the conversation back to her original point. "But I still believe the whole piece is better as a whole if a choir were to sing it. Should I try to play it on the piano it would be a pale imitation of what was intended." Such as the imitation of the song from the symphony she had played on the piano.
It was then that she realized not everyone's passion for music was quite as strong as her own, Mrs. Bagshot had warned her that first summer to refrain from going into musical details. She had said that it was delightful for a young lady to be able to demonstrate her skill on an instrument, but less attractive to know too much about the subject. Now the words came back to her and Malou felt the farmiliar sense of failure that had been so common that summer. As a healer and in her own life she felt assured of herself, able to speak of topics in depth. But as a debutante she had often felt she had failed more often than not. She had learned to be comfortable with the fact that she was never going to be the perfect young lady, and yet at this moment she felt the discomfort of knowing she would never be.
"You seem well versed in musical theory." Or rather the artistry behind it, perhaps that would have been more apt to say. "Are you musically inclinded?" That seemed too imprudent a question, but it was out in the air between them, slightly less mortifiying than asking if Mr. Prewett played a musical instrument or sang. Most men did not, she knew, at least not among her set, but still there was occasionally one who liked to sponsor the musical arts. Perhaps Mr. Prewett were among their number.
RE: Like the Sun We Will Rise Again - Faustus Prewett - November 11, 2021
Perhaps despite their conversation, Faustus only found himself an admirer of music. He would never be so bold as to call himself a scholar; a title reserved, in his opinion, for only those who dedicated their lives to the craft. He gave a shrug at her question, quirking a small smile. "Would that I could," Was his reply as he shifted the hat under his arm. He found music to be a great escape from the chaos and disorganized environment that the Auror Offices often provided. As dedicated as he was to his job (as they'd already established for both of them) at the end of his day he often found himself in need of something a bit more grounding. Music had been something that proved to be just the remedy for this problem, and he had only grown more fond of the subject in the recent months.
"I think if you talk with my mother you'll find that the extent of my musical inclination didn't extend beyond the practice that I grew too impatient for in my later years." He chuckled. "But I am fond of the subject. I find it a balm after an otherwise chaotic day." And plus, living in a large residence could prove to feel quite empty at times. Hearing music floating through the halls oftentimes brought a sense of life to the establishment.
Faustus shifted his attention back to Miss Skovgaard though. Perhaps she might have thought her rendition a pale imitation, but that was something they certainly didn't share an opinion on. He found her modesty endearing though, and slightly nodded his head toward the piano. "And yourself? Are you otherwise musically inclined to another instrument besides the piano?"
"I think if you talk with my mother you'll find that the extent of my musical inclination didn't extend beyond the practice that I grew too impatient for in my later years." He chuckled. "But I am fond of the subject. I find it a balm after an otherwise chaotic day." And plus, living in a large residence could prove to feel quite empty at times. Hearing music floating through the halls oftentimes brought a sense of life to the establishment.
Faustus shifted his attention back to Miss Skovgaard though. Perhaps she might have thought her rendition a pale imitation, but that was something they certainly didn't share an opinion on. He found her modesty endearing though, and slightly nodded his head toward the piano. "And yourself? Are you otherwise musically inclined to another instrument besides the piano?"
RE: Like the Sun We Will Rise Again - Marie-Louise Prewett - November 12, 2021
He seemed almost as nervous as she as he admitted he was not. The blush in her cheeks deepened as she recalled a similar conversation with Mr. Crouch at a ball a few months ago, Mr. Crouch hadn't seemed nervous but more dismissive on the subject. Perhaps Mrs. Bagshot had been right on the matter. Malou swallowed and her lips formed a small oh, the world itself was stilled on her lips with his next statement and she found her lips pressing into an amused smile instead. She wanted to know what he had practiced, had he played piano? Or was it something beyond that? If a man didn't play piano what did he play? Violin? She knew there were plenty of men who played as professional musicians, but they were not of the upper classes. The most involved in professional music someone of her set seemed to be was as a sponsor to the arts.
He set her further at ease as he admitted that he found the conversation soothing. Perhaps not as similar as the conversation with Mr. Crouch after all. That made the smile fully break across her lips.
"My mother insisted I have lessons in singing and the harp as well." Malou admitted, "Although I do not think I would be able to admit an inclination toward either." Her cheeks didn't seem to cool any with the admission. "And what lessons were it that you grew bored of?" She found herself asking, as curious of his childhood as she was to get the attention off her.
RE: Like the Sun We Will Rise Again - Faustus Prewett - November 12, 2021
It wasn't a surprise that she'd been exposed to the musical arts at an early age, seeing as it was quite the norm. All his children had learned the piano, though Faustus couldn't bring himself to quite force them to continue. Iris had been quite taken with the piano but Edelweiss hadn't wanted to continue past her second year in Hogwarts. And Mezereon tended to follow after Iris, though he had to wonder how long that would last. As the subject swiveled dangerously back towards the topic of his abysmal time playing musical instruments, Faustus laughed again, gesturing towards the piano. "The very instrument you sit at, Miss Skovgaard," He replied, though he prayed to Merlin that she wouldn't insist on him playing. They didn't need him embarrassing himself so early in the afternoon.
"And I'm afraid what I've retained of it is very little." He added, so as to dissuade her from potentially asking. "But perhaps I may attempt to learn again, if the urge strikes."
"And I'm afraid what I've retained of it is very little." He added, so as to dissuade her from potentially asking. "But perhaps I may attempt to learn again, if the urge strikes."
RE: Like the Sun We Will Rise Again - Marie-Louise Prewett - November 12, 2021
Malou's eyes were draw to the movement of Mr. Prewett's arm, she was aware of every movement he made. Noting everything from the nod of his head, to the shift of weight, to the gesture of his arm. She had no idea why, but she seemed attuned to it almost as she had the night of the Sanditon Resort's disastrous season close event. She had been aware of him them, watching to protect him. Now it seemed almost a habit to be aware of the space he took up, the brush of air near her as his arm indicated the piano. Then there was his laugh so rich as it filled the air around her, it made Malou smile and braved looking up at his eyes. They crinkled at the edges so very different and yet so very similarly to how they had crinkled in worry at Sanditon Resort.
"If it does, I should be happy to help." Malou found herself offering, surprising herself with hoping that perhaps he would take her up on the offer. She would enjoy the time around him, she had slowly been coming to this realization, but now her stomach seemed to agree leaping up at the idea even as she tried to brush it off. It would never come to pass. Men like Mr. Prewett simply did not learn piano, it was not done. Besides it was horribly unconventional. She was sure Mrs. Bagshot would object to the very nature of the idea - except perhaps that it would mean that Malou would spend more time with Mr. Prewett.
She let the question linger there for only the barest of a moment before hiding the suggestion behind other words, throwing them out there to avoid the sting of him actually turning her down. "Until then I shall be quite content to talk of music, if you so desire." Now her cheeks turned a deeper shade of red. That was no less forward than her original suggestion. But he had said that it was a balm to him to speak of after a chaotic day and she well knew that feeling. More nights than she could remember she had slipped into the pew of a church on her way home from work for the same reason. The peace of music and the peace of faith were a quiet balm to her soul. It comforted the parts of her that were exposed at work, the parts that no one could quite understand. Those hard days when she had a patient she couldn't save, the days that brought her own memories brimming back up. Those were the nights she sought music and religion. There were times when she didn't know what was the greater drive, the religion she had been raised with or the music that filled the halls of the city's churches.
RE: Like the Sun We Will Rise Again - Faustus Prewett - November 12, 2021
"Should the opportunity arise, I shall take you up on it!" He replied genuinely. "Talk of music is always a welcome subject." A touch of worry dripped into his stomach as he observed her cheeks flush. His eyes quickly flicked to the window behind her, noting that the sun was still streaming into the room. He'd noted the temperature in the room rising a bit, but he hadn't noticed it had risen that much.
"Are you quite alright, Miss Skovgaard?" He inquired, his brows furrowing as he involuntarily stepped towards her. He had noted she always seemed to have a health flush about her, but something about this time around worried him; an emotion he hadn't truly felt in a while. Leading his life with concern for others was natural to feel in his line of work - it was something that drove him to give those who sought out justice and closure. With that was always a certain degree with which he held back for his own sanity, and he had always been acutely aware of that.
But lately he'd been noticing a pattern wherein the concern for Miss Skovgaard's well-being had turned into something else. Before he could pause to evaluate, he found himself within two steps away from her, hand partially outstretched. Remembering his place, his hand dropped back down and he stepped back.
"Shall I call for someone?" He automatically turned to look over his shoulder for the maid that had been stationed as a chaperone at the opposite end of the room.
"Are you quite alright, Miss Skovgaard?" He inquired, his brows furrowing as he involuntarily stepped towards her. He had noted she always seemed to have a health flush about her, but something about this time around worried him; an emotion he hadn't truly felt in a while. Leading his life with concern for others was natural to feel in his line of work - it was something that drove him to give those who sought out justice and closure. With that was always a certain degree with which he held back for his own sanity, and he had always been acutely aware of that.
But lately he'd been noticing a pattern wherein the concern for Miss Skovgaard's well-being had turned into something else. Before he could pause to evaluate, he found himself within two steps away from her, hand partially outstretched. Remembering his place, his hand dropped back down and he stepped back.
"Shall I call for someone?" He automatically turned to look over his shoulder for the maid that had been stationed as a chaperone at the opposite end of the room.