The bedchamber was gloomy, with minimal sunlight streaming in through the cracks of the thick curtains. Aurora Montgomery liked it this way, for the sunny outside felt like a merciless tease to her current state. Her strained coughs echoed throughout the hall that her bedchamber was situated in, and although she was fully occupied with good books, Aurora did wish to get out of bed at times. Today was one of those days, and as she slowly lifted herself into a seat, she moved to the edge of the bed, slipping her bare feet from underneath the covers and onto the cool floor. Standing proved to be a difficulty in the past few months, so she took as much time possible to stand up straight as she could. And when she did, the woman, in her white nightgown padded over towards the window. Let the teasing commence, for when she reached the window, she whipped open the curtains, allowing a cloud of dust to be released from the ripples of the fabric. Immediately, the sun streamed in, warming her face. With a shaky sigh, the woman felt an ounce better, if only she could breathe the fresh air.

Her doctors, however, assume that it would be best for Aurora to stay inside and away from other potential problems. For nearly an hour, the woman stood at her window, admiring the weather, even if her once-beautiful garden was now a forest of weeds. She knew she was lucky to still own the house, but her future seemed so unkind to her and her daughters.

Meanwhile, two stories lower, Georgina was in the study room, going through her familys paperwork. With the last set of horses and that one carriage, they were only able to pay off a small percentage of their debt, but it was a certain start. Ever since her father passed away, Georgina took over as the bigger enabler. She learned numbers and bargaining, and how to save for their own convenience. Those were all lifetime lessons, and Georgina couldn't be happier in being able to handle herself so well in these situations.

There was a knock at the door, which caused George's blond head to snap up. "Come in," she called out, glancing down at the papers once more. It was Patrick, their aging butler.

"I'm sorry to bother you, Miss, but a young lad has conveyed a message for you," Patrick spoke in his usual shaky, but baritone voice.

"What is it?" Georgina lifted her head to stare at Patrick. She knew what the message could be, but there was a little bit of hope that it wasn't what she was thinking.

"Lord Ruthford will call upon you later this afternoon," the old man spoke, his hands neatly clasped behind him.

"I see," George grimaced, for it wasn't good news at all. The man hadn't even taken the courtesy to 'wish to call', no, Lord Osborne had made it entirely clear that he will. "Is mother awake?"

"I do believe she is, miss," Patrick nodded gently, and once Georgina dismissed him, he quickly disappeared, leaving the girl in silence. It was a bitter silence, and although Georgina was fine to gather her wits and think of a plan, she needed the gentleness of her dear mother. Valerie was probably out riding or in town, daring to show her face in the many shops that line the streets of London...

Marcus breathed a sigh, it was a beautiful day and though the stables seemed very empty now. Still, the sun brightened his spirits.

So he went on with his duties, mucking the stalls that still had horses in them, all three of them.... He also got to work brushing and grooming the horses, feeding them and the like. Yes, his job could get rather dull at times, but all the same he preformed it with energy. Still, some days he wished things where back to the way they once where. He grew tired of having no one to talk to, save his conversations with Miss Valerie, of course.

He sighed, he grew weary of waiting, killing time the whole day. He was beginning to wonder if he would no longer be needed soon. They had sold most of the horses, and he was beginning to fear for his job, his livelihood, The time he spent with Valerie... He shook his head, he needed to keep his thoughts in check, least they keep him from getting things done. Not that he would have minded to think about Miss Valerie, but he had things he needed to do! Why would the Montgomery's keep a stable boy that didn't do his job? Especially when they only had three horses in the first place! That would be absurd.

He wondered at times why he was even still working on the estate. Well, they obviously needed someone to care for the horses, but he highly doubted he was the best choice. Still he knew he shouldn't think on it too much, but well, he didn't have much else to do with his time anymore. He had to stay in the stables in case a member of the household, mostly Miss Valerie, wanted to ride.

Some days he wished he could do more than just barely read, maybe then he would be able to read to pass the time. He wondered if learning to read would be difficult...After a bit of deliberation he decided that it may be better if he get such thoughts out of his head, he simply did not have the resources.

He shook his head, his mother had always wished to educate him when he was a lad, though, obviously, that was not to be. He had, however, learned how not to speak like a ruffian. Though he still wished he could have gone to school...Maybe he would have had a chance to woo Miss Valerie if he where more educated... That was exactly why he should have just stopped thinking completely, he wasn't being payed to think, nor was he being payed to be friends with his employers. Though, no matter how he reminded himself of this, it never helped him much.

He decided he should take one of the horses out to get some exercise, yes, that was a good idea.

Alvaro eyed the underside of Ian's boots with distaste and cleared his throat loudly. Ian Thornton, who'd been asleep in his chair, his booted feet propped up on his desk, opened one eye then the other then yawned.

"What is it, Alvie?" he said, kneading his knuckles into his eyes to rid himself of the vestiges of sleepiness.

The older man frowned. He'd been his father's manservant back in Ibarra and of a far more ancient school of thought than Ian himself. He hated being called Alvie, which, of course, was why Ian continued to call him it. Despite of this, he actually was rather fond of the old cove. Alvaro Tameyo had been working for his father in Ecuador before Ian had even been born and had travelled back to England with him once his long exile had finally ended. After Richard Thornton died, he'd simply turned his attentions to Ian and went on as if nothing had changed, although he occasionally loudly opinioned that 'Sir Richard would never invest his money in those shares' or 'would never go about his business in that way'. Sometimes Ian listened, sometimes he didn't, reminding the manservant that what his father had done had landed him in a foreign country for eight years with the threat of jail awaiting him back home.

"You have a visitor, Mr Thornton," replied Alvaro, his baritone nudged into a lilt by the traces of an Ecuadorian accent.

"What? Who? I'm not expecting anyone," said Ian, removing his feet from his desk and standing up. His fleet was grounded for the next two weeks and he'd been spending the past few days lounging around his townhouse in Soho filling out paperwork and indulging in sixteen year-old Scotch with the few friends in this snobbish hell-hole who deigned him to be acceptable company. But if it had been a regular visitor then Alvaro would have surely have sent them straight up. His business associates certainly knew there was nothing he could do about weather patterns on the other side of the Atlantic (Ian had made sure of that) so he doubted they'd be round to angrily berate him. So who was it?

"Well, sir..." began Alvaro with a look that was a mixture of embarrassment and disapproval. "It is a young lady and she-"

It was a chilly afternoon, the air crisp and the sky an array of blues and faint grays, a giveaway that there was a chance of rain later on. Rosette had arrived in the earlier hours of the morning, and she could see her home a short distance ahead of the carriage, and a charmingly crooked smile curved onto her rosebud lips. Home... It had been so long, or so it seemed, since she'd walked across the familiar wood-paneled floors or shared a meal with her sisters and mother, sitting around the sturdy dining room table. The thought made her sigh with longing, and soon enough, she was pulling up to the familiar entrance, excitement pulsing through her.

She bid her driver farewell after gathering her bags, and lugging them to the door. After standing there nervously, tucking a tray tendril of gold behind her ear, she knocked with a firm fist, hoping someone would come soon and help her with her luggage. Patrick answered the door a few moments later, much to the relief of tired Rosette. "Patrick!" She exclaimed, though not too loud, as she had plans to surprise the others inside. Awkwardly wreathing her arms about his neck in a friendly embrace, she smiled that radiant smile of hers and stepped inside, glimpsing around. "Where is everyone?"

"Uh... hello, Miss Rosette." Patrick replied in his own reserved way, though he did flash her a warm smile, offering to help her with her bags. "Let me take those." Soon enough, her body was free of the weight and she exhaled as the butler took her luggage, setting it in the den for the time being. "I believe Georgiana just left; Valerie is most likely out riding, and your mother... well."

"My mother? Where is she?"

"In bed, still, though she's been awake for quite some time. I believe she might be feeling under the weather..." he explained.

Rosette tilted her head, catching her lower lip in between her teeth before nodding her head in reply and saying a small thank you. She began walking down the hall after she shed her hat, hanging it by the front door before hurriedly moving up the stairs toward Aurora's bedchambers.

After a brief visit with Aurora, Georgina quickly took her leave with a plan. She had heard after throughout research that Osborne had a recent mishap and a sudden enemy. While the London ton and the high society may have adored Lord Osborne, Georgina was able to find someone with a deep hate for the man. And if the rumors were true, she'd beg for partnership in her scheme. Marcus, the stable boy, the only staff in the Montgomery household that was an able person to help Georgina carry out her schemes, was already given the task to try and make Lord Osborne's visits at the Montgomery house as short as possible. Georgia knew the boy had a witty head on his shoulders, and he'd think of something different each time. The woman was certain that sooner or later Osborne will leave them all alone.

Stepping out of the low-priced carriage, with paint chipping and the coachman in raggy wear, Georgina lifted her golden head in the air, observing the townhouse that they had arrived to. She worse a dark green gown, with a ribboned bonnet over her golden curls that were clipped upward and only allowed one or two loose strands to danced against her cheeks. She didn't look happy at all, with an everlasting frown furrowing her brows and her lips pursed in that displeased fashion, she could have been mistaken of great loss or misfortune.

This man, Ian Thornton, was difficult for Georgia to track, but once she did, she didn't waste time in standing at his front door. She hadn't been nervous when she first thought out this plan, but when she stepped inside the man's household, she began to realize that her entire body was reacting in fear. What was she to say to not sound completely insane? And how could she convince him to help her?

If he didn't know the Montgomery situation, she had decided not to inform him of it, because Pride for Georgina was as equally important as hands for a surgeon. So she'd simply throw out the common ground of both placing Lord Osborne as an enemy, perhaps that would be the only thing that can convince the man.

Meanwhile, after Rosette's carriage had brought her home, Lord Osborne soon arrived at the Montgomery household, the luxury and wealth apparent on each thing he owned. The man stepped out of his carriage, a jewelry box in his arms, while his gaze fixated onto the front door and beyond that, Georgina, who'd be expecting him, he hoped, at this moment.

Rosette made her way down the hallway, shoes gently clicking on the wood floors until she reached her mother's room. The door was shut, so she hesitantly lifted her hand, curled it into a fist and knocked. When there was no answer, she quietly began to turn the knob and open the door, peering inside. "Mother? It's me, Rosette--" she began, entering the bedchamber and resting her gaze on Aurora, who was seated by the window. The young woman smiled at the familiar sight of her mother, as did Aurora in return. But it was only for a moment that the lady by the window looked happy, for when Rosette moved to embrace her she began to cry, soft yet sorrowful. Rosette pulled back, brows knit together in confusion. "Mother, what ails you? Don't cry..." she tried to comfort, stroking the woman's hair.

Aurora caught her breath, returning her daughter's embrace before pulling away. "It's so good to see you, child..." she replied, opening her eyes with a smile.

Rosette still looked confused, lovingly touching her mother's cheek. "How are you?" She inquired, assuming the tears must have simply been from surprise to see her daughter for the first time in two years.

"As well as I can be, I suppose..." she said, exhaling lowly before motioning for her daughter to sit in the chair opposite her. "I wasn't expecting you to be back... not today, at least."

Rosette offered her mother a gentle smile, showing her teeth and chuckling. "I wasn't either, unfortunately," she sighed, glancing around the room.

"What do you mean?" Aurora asked, tilting her head as she gingerly took her daughters hands in her own.

Rosette was about to reply, before Patrick knocked and entered the bedchamber. "I believe there is someone outside for you, Miss Rosette," he said, and when the girl nodded (though confused) he bowed out and left. The gold-haired girl rose to her feet, giving her mother a look that explained she would speak with her later, before briskly exiting the room and moving down the steps and to the front door. She put on a smile, expecting someone she knew, perhaps a friend. But instead, she was greeted by the face of Lord Osborne; her eyes widened in surprise and her brows knit together soon after. "Erm... hello," she greeted awkwardly, hand on the door as she appraised him.

"She what?" said Ian, not letting his mild surprise show on his features or permeate his tone. He had no idea why a young woman should come to see him. Well, actually, he did, but certainly not at this hour.

"-she's asked to speak with you regarding a business matter, sir," said Alvaro, raising one eyebrow delicately.

Ian now understood the source of the older man's disapproval. It was not, for the most part, because a lady was calling on him unannounced but because this lady seemed to be calling on business. Alvaro was of few beliefs but the ones he did hold were firmly rooted. One such belief was that it was unseemly for women to be involved in matters that were traditionally the domain of men.

Ian himself had even fewer beliefs. And he had no qualms about dealing with a woman on business matters, though he had not had to do it very often.

"Well? Show her in, Alvie," said Ian, with an impatient gesture.

Alvaro bowed with meticulously strained patience then disappeared for a few moments to retrieve the visitor from downstairs. When he returned, he was accompanied by the lady in question. Ian held out his hand for her to shake, just as he would have done a man, not bothering with finicky bows or the sorts of flourishes that infuriated him in society. Behind them, Alvaro frowned and closed the door.

Unlike he might have done with a man, Ian did take the time to look at her properly. She was young, a good few years younger than himself, and tall. Her height and manner of holding made Ian imagine that she would immediately draw gazes whenever she walked into even the most crowded rooms. She was fair, and in the bright sunlight that streamed in through the French windows of Ian's study, her skin and eyes took on a luminous translucency, as if she was a figure in a stained glass window.

"Ian Thornton," he supplied. "But of course you already knew that. What business do you have to discuss from me, Miss...? Because as pleasant as it is to have something to look at whilst we talk numbers, my time is very valuable." Indeed, he could still be dozing in his chair. Although he had to admit the view was probably worth being roused by Alvaro for.

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