[of course not. it's fine :3 you still give me a lot]
She blushed, looking away from him and shook her head. "I know that. They don't. But I most certainly know that." She said gently, slowly turning her head back into his direction. Taking his journal, she smiled kindly and leaned her side against the stone ledge. Nodding to him, she moved from him, taking her cup of wine and proceeding towards the inside of the manor once again. "Mr. Dawson will show you to your room." She said gently before walking back in fully. The gathering had ended and there was just a clean up process occurring. Hiding the book behind her back, her mother approached her, grabbing the wine out of her hand and taking her into the kitchen. Lila zoned out, going into another world in her mind as her mother berated her, addressing her disappointment in her lack of mingling and addressing her concern for her mingling with a commoner who was on a deadly mission. She even felt the need to make it a point that Lila was not allowed in association of it.
"Yes, Mother, of course." She was rolling her eyes on the inside but acting like the diligent young lady she had always been. "May I retire for the night? I'm quite exhausted from being hurdled at many incoming men." There was a slight resentment in her tone but she just smiled, a fake smile bu Lady Derby did not know the difference.
"Of course. Have one of the ladies help you." She insisted.
"Really, I'm okay. I want to undress myself and get ready for bed by myself." She said softly, earning a stern look from her mother. "Please." She whispered, her whisper and tone being actually genuine, pleading.
Her mother nodded and bringing the journal to her stomach as she turned, she walked away, up the stairs to her room and shut the door behind her. She put her hand on her stomach and closed her eyes, steadying her breathing. She was so tired. Tired of it all.
Placing the journal on her vanity, she started working on untying every single tie of her dress before letting it fall to the ground, wearing a gossamer petticoat and corset underneath it. She slipped the petticoat off and then turned her back to the large mirror, looking back at it as she worked to untie the corset. The sooner it was, the sooner she could breathe; properly at least.
[edited]