#i was thinking this takes place ~before eithne's told anyone abt the engagement but ~after the ball in time frame

[forgottenroisin]

Suspicion | Roisin & Cassimir

"I have no inspiration," Rosie had whined to Cillian earlier that morning, leaning against the kitchen counter, her chin supported by both hands in a vision of frustrated contemplation. "Every practical joke I can think of, we've already pulled off against him."

"Chin up, Malconaire," teased Cillian, sipping some water. "The next egregious thing he does, boom, instant inspiration, I guarantee it. Your muse will not fail you: he's too much of a...Well," Cillian arched his brows. "I shouldn't say in front of a lady."

"That's it!"

"There she is!"

"No, Cillian, that's the issue!" Rosie's hands fell from her face. She pushed off against the counter to her feet, snapping as she did. "That's it! He...Cassimir hasn't done anything particularly egregious in some time, has he?"

Cillian frowned. "What? That doesn't seem right..."

"No, think about it, Cillian! He's been in a...I daresay, he's been almost...happy...I even saw him smile the other day -- unsolicited. He didn't know anyone was looking! He just...smiled!"

"Gross."

"No, don't you see! Something's afoot. He's planning something. Something horrible."

"Oh," whispered Cillian, and passed a hand across his face. "Well, that's a worrisome thought--"

"I need to get to the bottom of this."

"No! No, Rosie, you leave this one to me. Leave everything to me," he added, shrugging back into his coat (the day was murky with rain).

"Where are you going?"

"I--the woods."

Rosie placed her hands on her hips. "You're going to the woods?"

He shrugged. "I'm going to the woods."

"In this weather. To...?"

"Think! Listen, while I'm there, Rosie, you just go about your day as you usually would. Let's not...tip him off. Got it? Let's just...keep our heads, right?"

"You want to keep your head?"

"...Yes? Look, just let me handle this, all right?" he said, coming forward and taking her hand. His look was earnest.

Rosie sighed, letting her other hand drop from her hip. "Fine, I'll keep my head. But I want to know what's going on!"

"Of course. We'll figure this out. Promise. Just...go about your day."

"You know I have to see him today, right? He wants some new clothes made, or something."

"He does?"

Rosie shrugged. "I assume that's what he wants?"

"All right, all right, just...put it out of your head for now, right? We'll talk when I get back, all right?"

"...From the woods?"

He sighed. "From the woods."

Rosie huffed. "Fine."

"That's my girl," he said, and kissed her cheek, and he was gone.

Gathering up her spare fabric, Rosie heaved it into her arms. She'd meant to go directly to the attic to finish up some sewing Valentina had ordered, she truly did...but her father's study door was open...and Cassimir was inside.

Stowing her parcel by the door, she slipped inside. It wouldn't hurt to...simply be there, she was sure. Maybe to ask some innocent questions. He was her brother, after all, and as much reverence as any Malconaire gave to the woods outside the house, Roisin couldn't imagine what they might inspire that the great oak that burst through their very ceiling could not, particularly during a rainstorm.

"Good morning, Cassimir," began Roisin, as cheerily as she might. They weren't scheduled to meet until the evening when, presumably, she'd finished her other work, and it was certainly true that Roisin didn't generally seek out Cassimir, but...Maybe this once. She had to know!

"I had a free moment and wondered if you wanted to discuss...designs. That way maybe I can have some ready to present when we meet tonight..."

She rounded the doorway, standing fully inside, now. Outside the world was filled with fog and a torrential downpour, but this room felt snug and cozy with the fire cheerily licking upwards and a steaming cup of something or other on the desk, and candles dotting every surface so it might be bright enough to read and write in the gloom of heavy rain.

"Goodness, it certainly is coming down out there, isn't it?" she paused, rubbed her arm. "Papa loved days like this in here. Said they were made for being snug in one's snug," she giggled. "But...you know that..."

She shook her head as if to dispel those more pleasant memories. "Is there anything I can fetch you before we begin?"

What was going on with him? Had something happened at the ball? Gods! Had Guinevere finally caved to his proposals? Were they about to have Malconaire back and utterly to themselves again? Surely Valentina wouldn't remain here if she could be living in a palace! And Cassimir would have to attend to his bride...A wave of warmth washed over her.

She paused again. "Cassimir...I've heard a rumor about you," she said at last, biting her lip. It was a lie but...it was a white lie, certainly, wasn't it? "I've heard...that you're to be married. Soon. Is...is it true?"