Silke remained silent when Galt tried to reassure her father that he was getting through to her. While she had to begrudgingly agree that sometimes she over-committed herself, she loathed when it became a topic of discussion. So much of what she did was necessary, or at least it had been when she took on so many of the burdens she bore, and no one was exactly clamoring to take on the responsibilities. Their smiles and gestures stirred resentment in her heart, not because she regretted the sacrifices she made, but the manner in which it was always reduced and almost trivialized in conversations. It always had been. For some members of the nobility, they would minimize her accomplishments because of her gender. With the people who genuinely cared for her, such as her family, they would thank her for her efforts, tell her to rest more, yet passively expect her contributions to remain the same.

Quite frankly, it was impossible.

Her hand tensed briefly under his touch and she put on her best smile so as to not alarm anyone. It wasn't a debate she wanted to have. If they hashed out everything here and now, she'd have to expose how she had to push aside her grief for her mother and brother's losses, while her surviving brother and father were allowed to do nothing more than focus on their feelings. She would be forced to explain how every little nuance of their lives for over a year were tended to and managed by the estate staff or Silke herself. They'd have to be candid about how neither Lord Kasper nor Vincent showed an inkling of incentive to do the vast majority of her duties and, instead, she'd groomed a couple of servants to assume them in the event she perished unexpectedly.

Reminding herself that she had put plans and contingencies into place, she managed to calm herself, and not a moment too soon. The servants came bearing platters with the entree, which was a wild turkey that had been rubbed with herbs, spices, butter, and oil, then roasted over coals in the kitchen until the skin was fragrant and crispy. There were fresh rolls, soft and fluffy with a slightly glazed crust, squashes baked, split open, then seasoned with the same mixture that had been spread on the turkey, a medley of vegetables lightly sauteed, and leeks that had been wrapped in cabbage leaves, cooked, and covered with a savory glaze that glistened in the low light.

Lord Byrne continued to make more light conversation with Lord Kasper, Silke, and Galt, as it was clear that Vincent preferred to disengage from his preferred subjects. For a bit he discussed local fashion, and more specifically how the changing preferences for certain fabrics, dyes, and embellishments was affecting trade. Although she was quite knowledgeable about imports, exports, and how their neighbors influenced them (and them in return), it became clear in short order that her father did not, and so he listened, but did not contribute except nods of his head. From there they discussed paintings, including one artist that both Byrne and Silke believed was overrated, how the royal family's jewelry affected mining operations for particular gems, and a crop disease that plagued the kingdom a couple of years ago, and the insolvency of a duchy teetering on the edge of catastrophe.

As well as Lord Byrne navigated each subject, it was abundantly clear he was seeking out Silke's advice from a business perspective, which she was happy to give. Rather than confess her favorite colors or dress style, she analyzed the past few years, and gave her predictions for future trends, and thus where to invest. She recommended a man whose paintings she objectively thought would increase in value over time, how the cyclical nature of the monarchy's gems indicated emeralds would likely become popular in the near future, and related how she had a farmer tenant that she was allowing to experiment on different agricultural techniques he wanted to test. Hardly an expert herself on any given aspect of academia, she had become an astute observer of society, and used her keen insight to adapt the Kasper's financial pursuits.

By the time desert was served, however, she was overtly showing the signs of fatigue. Her posture had a subtle droop, her face was shades paler than when dinner had started, and there were faint circles under her eyes despite her make-up. A cake similar to gingerbread was placed on the table, neatly sliced for the aristocrats' ease of eating, along with honeyed pears and small berries. Silke had picked her way through dinner, eating less than half of what her guests and family ate. Quite simply, she was so exhausted it had affected her appetite, no matter how much Byrne tried to distract her from the fact. Her eyes lit up at the sight of dessert- which they rarely had unless they were hosting- and Vincent picked up a large piece of the confection, placing it on a small plate for her.

"You should get some rest after this," he said, his suggestion more of a statement in delivery, then looked to Byrne and Galt for assistant in pursuing his endlessly stubborn sister.