Silke wasn't quite ready to turn in; even as exhausted as she was, she was a workaholic at heart. There was always something to be done and she prioritized finishing the seemingly endless tasks that were required to keep the estate in good working order, their social calendars full, their images maintained, and their tenants happy over her own health. A rebellious glint appeared in her eye as she attempted to protest the implication that she needed to head to bed once dinner was concluded. "There's a budget for repairs the stone wall on the north edge of the..." she began to protest.

"Does it [i]need[/i] to be done tonight?" Lord Byrne asked sweetly, arching one elegant brow. "I'm not quite as accomplished as your ladyship," he teased gently, knowing she disliked the term, especially in casual company, "but I suspect that could wait until tomorrow with no consequences except you more well rested." He flashed her one of her winning smiles. As charismatic of a man as he was, he could tell she was nonplussed. She wasn't the sort to be won over with social manipulations as she too was deft in the art. Immediately she looked for a flaw in his argument, and parted her lips to speak in preparation.

"When you're tired you're more likely to make mistakes," Count Kasper said, cutting her off before she could launch into a debate. "If you want to give the budgetary review the respect and attention it deserves, it would be better if you had a nap at least," her father gently insisted. He knew that alluding the possibility of it being a [i]nap[/i], which was shorter than a full night's sleep, she would be slightly more persuaded. Attacking from the vantage point of her giving her best effort when refreshed, and it being what the estate and their citizens needed, appealed to her on an emotional angle.

Sighing, Silke could at least recognize that she wouldn't win against everyone else united in herding her back to her bedchambers. Even Galt was convinced it was a good idea, despite her belief it was a waste of the evening hours. She had burned the oil down in her lamps for so many months on end that foregoing it once seemed ridiculous. "Very well," she agreed. Her brother looked relieved that she wouldn't continue to fight the issue.

Vincent's relief was short-lived. When Galt asked if he would accompany him to [i]his[/i] room after they sent Silke's to hers, his face once more became brooding. He didn't dislike the fellow or have any fundamental problem with his personality- he just disliked him on principal of being his sister's fiance. Grumbling under his breath, he wanted to refuse, but Count Kasper immediately said, "A wonderful idea, Count Harrowmark! Vincent would be happy to deliver you to your chambers."

In short order Count Kasper and Lord Byrne excused themselves (the latter with a horribly amused expression) and walked out of the room to retire for the night. Vincent and Silke followed a second later, heading towards the same corridor. It became increasingly apparent that the only lady of the house was in worse shape than she admitted. Encroaching fatigue considerably slowed her pace, her face was still more pale than it out to be, and she stumbled a couple of times. Her brother, Galt, or both helped (regardless of her resistance) until she was finally passed off to a made that took over.

Vincent waited until Silke's door was closed and they had walked a few dozen feet, safely out of earshot, and turned towards the rogue-turned-nobleman. "You should break off your engagement. It's not a good match," he insisted without elaborating. Only if he was asked what made them unsuitable for one another would he expound on his reasoning.