The door did not remain closed long after Lorraine's gentle knock. As it swung open she found herself looking at a young boy, likely from the kitchens if the tell-tale stains on his clothing and sweat on his skin were anything to judge by. Her pale brown eyes blinked closed once.<em>'I hadn't thought of that.. That I wouldn't be expected-'</em>He was gaping.<br/><br/>Lorraine was not accustomed to being gaped at. So much so that she actually took a half-step back before catching herself.<em>'So much for appearing composed.'</em>She took a moment and swallowed, feeling the unease that had lodged in her throat settle. This was, after all, just a boy. Her foot settled in the place it had just retreated from and she began to speak, but just as the words began to form the boy was pushed aside by a woman. Lorraine's light brown eyes moved from the hand she'd seen shove the boy out of the way to the woman's face.<br/><br/>She was firmly built. Likely also from the kitchens. Lorraine's lips closed as the woman spoke, "Yes, Madam? May I be of aid?" Her voice told Lorraine she was likely from the same region the boy's appearance had suggested.<br/><br/>The lady smiled and inclined her head politely, "You can, I hope. I was.. Well, I intended.." What was wrong with her? She'd known well what she was coming here to do and she was completely losing her composure. A moment and a breath later Lorraine tried again, this time her voice came forward in a silky and composed tone, "I wish to speak with the Master of the House if he can be seen."<br/><br/>The woman nodded to Lorraine and moved aside so she could enter. Lorraine did so gracefully, and as she did she caught sight of two stable hands behind her looking down the center aisle of the stable and seeming confused at her presence. She shook her head from side to side lightly, her chocolate curls bobbing from the motion, and followed the woman into the house.<br/><br/>Somewhere between the door to the stables and the Master of the house Lorraine found herself being escorted by a servant who was clearly not from the kitchens. Her eyes passed over the decor of the Teahouse's interior, appraising a tiny bit, but more because she was nervous. The fabric of her dress felt smooth and gentle on the other side of her glove as she ran her left hand along her stomach and breathed out in a small sigh.<em>'It will turn out well...'</em>She told herself as she moved through the building with the small, graceful pace most noblewomen shared.