The siblings argued the entire way to Silke's room: she was absolutely certain she could manage well enough on her own, and needed none of his assistance (which she stated several times) and he was convinced that the moment he let her go, she'd ignore her own health to do something taxing and less important, such as accounting paperwork for the estate (which was absolutely true). There had been no resolution by the time he deposited her at her door and into the hands of the maids, who were under strict orders to ignore her protests, bathe her, and help her dress in a fresh, clean, and dry set of clothing.

Although on the surface it was a debate they might have had days, weeks, or months ago, there was something changed about it. For as long as she could remember, she, her mother, and her deceased brother Alistair had been the ones taking care of everyone else in the household. It wasn't that her father and Vincent were uncaring, it was just that they were somewhat awkward, uncertain what to do, and easily panicked by their loved ones in pain or ill. The eldest Kasper sibling had grown, however. Rather than watch Silke from afar and do nothing but scold or fret, he had taken action, and carried her all the way to her room. It was a small gesture, but meaningful nonetheless.

Too tired and cold to resist even if she wanted to, Silke allowed herself to be escorted to a tub that had been filled with hot water and placed near the fire to keep it warm. The servants washed her with a soap, rinsed her hair, and applied a light oil that added a luster and shine, as well as a faint flowery scent. Once she had soaked long enough that her fingers and toes were no longer pink from the cold outside, and she was thoroughly cleaned, they helped her out of the bath and into a towel. Her hair was wrung out, patted dry, combed, and braided. Normally they would have put in some ribbons or flowers, but given that she was dressing only for a dinner inside, and dinner was imminent, they elected to forego such decoration.

Silke was dressed in a thick woolen gown of emerald green in the current style of nobility; long, draping sleeves, a fitted bodice, and a flowing skirt. While it was 'modern,' this particular dress was more practical than many of its counterparts in her closet. It was just fashionable to wear around the house and receive guests, yet it lacked the expensive frills such as embroidered trim, ribbon edging, beading or anything else that might add to its cost and get in the way of light labor and work that she did around the estate. The maids knew it to be one of her warmest pieces of clothing for indoor wear, and also one of the easiest to clean if she fell asleep while wearing it later, which wasn't unheard of it when it came to the young mistress.

By the time Galt arrived, Count Kasper was seated at the head of the table with Vincent to his left, and Lord Byrne beside him. To the lord's right were two empty plate settings, the second of which Galt was escorted to by one of the servers. Waiting until he was comfortably seated, Lord Byrne leaned forward, studying him curiously. "Harrowmark? You're the hero that was appointed a title by the king, are you not?" He had perfectly coiffed brown hair and expensive, expertly tailored clothing in a deep, saturated blue that made Vincent (who cared little for such things) look almost drab next to him. His tone was light and amiable, which also drew a stark contrast to the surliness of his companion.

"I heard you went on a ride with Lady Kasper," he commented. "I do hope it was enjoyable despite the weather," he remarked coyly with an impish smile.

"Byrne," Vincent grumbled. "Are you sure you don't want to go home and have dinner [i]there[/i]?"

"My wife is entertaining a dear friend," Lord Byrne replied casually, "and I was already invited to dine with the Kasper family. How could I possibly refuse such an offer? I'm sure Count Harrowmark here feels the same way I do. Or are you in denial of how charming the presence of your dear sister is?" he teased.

"Now now, Lord Byrne, it's my duty to bother my brother, not yours," Silke lightly chided as she entered the room. She made a motion with her hand to dismiss the servants before she was announced, preferring to do away with the formality that she suspected none of them enjoyed. The dining room glowed a warm mixture of yellow and orange from the candles strategically placed around the room, their light bouncing off the glass and silver of the glassware and tableware respectively. A large bouquet of crocus flowers rested in the center of the table, their blooms adding a much-need splash of color. The cloth that covered the table was a pale cream that had been painted and embroidered with flower blossoms at the edges.

Although she was still more pale than she rightfully ought to be, she [i]did[/i] look better. Some color had returned to Silke's cheeks that had not been there an hour before, her hair was no longer tangled and disheveled, and her gait was less stiff than when they had returned from their ride. She glided across the floor as she took her seat next to Galt, flashing him a smile as she did so. "Lord Byrne is one of my acquaintances," she said by way of introduction. "I introduced him to his wife, so he's forever obligated to repay me in compliments," she jested.

"It's twice as rewarding because your brother has such a hard time bearing it," Lord Byrne confirmed solemnly.