it’s nothing short of terrifying , not quite remembering how her mom looked like anymore . or how her laugh sounded like or the way her voice changed when telling bed time stories . or the warmth of the hugs she would get from her father . the big portraits at burghley don’t quite give them justice : only gives her a vague idea of how they looked before they died . not enough to bring back memories . and sometimes , she wonder what they would think , if they saw her today . she didn’t continue the path of becoming a proper lady like most her age , fit for the title she carries . ( it always belonged to her mother anyways , she would always be the duchess of burghley . ) and it’s not something she would ever get used to . it was her role after coming of age : but she didn’t introduce herself that way , not if she could help it . and maybe she gets reminded of it more , now . she is older & seeing people with families , children the same age as she was when she lost her own family : it stings . something she tries to not think about , the grief she didn’t really deal with . . . ever . so it comes up at the strangest times .
his voice invade her , and she tries to blink it away . brows tug together when looking up at him , away from the small family getting into the carriage & there’s a smile forming , shake of her head . ❝ no reason . . . what look ? ❞ brows raise and there is a shrug of shoulder , her head tilting a bit . ❝ think it is just how my face is , honestly . ❞