The days of hosting and wooing young ladies stretched far in the days past and the days future for the young Baron. In truth, the women were hardly beginning to be individuals in his mind, and for that he felt endlessly guilty. The girl he was entertaining this afternoon was beautiful to anyone who had the ability to see. Her skin was soft porcelain, her hair was a stunning auburn that fell in loose curls around her dainty shoulders. He was lucky to be in her presence, and even he could recognize that as Lady Davenport's golden eyes fell upon his face, eagerly awaiting his response to a question that he hadn't heard.
"Forgive me, my Lady. I'm afraid you caught me daydreaming." While Caspian was no slouch himself, he found that his gentleness and soft spoken voice was what made him appealing to members of the opposite sex. He wasn't arrogant or stubborn, and he seemed to genuinely care for the comfort of his guests. His eyes drifted from her own to the single long stemmed red rose she twirled in her gloved hand - lace, of course. The fabric accented her slender, feminine digits perfectly. He'd gifted her the flower upon her arrival, then lead her out to the courtyard to see the brilliant colors autumn was beginning to offer. As was her kind nature, the girl simply offered a brilliant smile that should have had Caspian to his knees, and repeated her question. "I wondered, Lord Livingstone, if you felt the ends or the means were more important."
Caspian folded his hands behind his back and took a step closer towards her, his custom tailored shoes clicking against the smooth cobblestone that would find itself littered with leaves come nightfall. "Oh, the means of course. The ends can't matter very much if you've caused harm to get there. Right?" Endlessly compassionate. He knew some viewed it as an admirable trait while others were certain it would be the end of him. He prayed she was the former, for she was his mother's favorite. An only child with no brothers, and a dowry the size of a march. Whoever married her was guaranteed to inherit the title of Marquis from her father - and it would indeed be her who chose her husband.
"There aren't many men comfortable enough with their masculinity to let their hearts be vulnerable, Lord Livingstone. Quite a bold choice." Lacey stood from the sear she'd taken on the stone bench and fluffed out the skirt of her dusty rose gown, then held her hand out in preparation for Caspian to offer his arm. "Tea, my Lord?" He knew it was a long shot for her to decide that he was worthy, and part of him hoped that she didn't as he escorted her through the open french doors. She was someone to be loved, but it would never be by him.