<br/>As was his custom, Corsair woke bright and early the next morning, stretching and walking over to his curtained windows before doing anything else. The sun had not yet peeked above the far-off horizon, but had begun casting its glowing light on the night sky, erasing the darkness bit by bit as each ray pushed the light of dawn in its wake.<br/><br/>The biting breeze of morning chilled the noble for a short moment, before he shook it off and began rummaging through his closet for the day's garments. He quickly threw on a simple, unimpressive shirt and a pair of plain trousers, wrinkling his nose at the overwhelming smell of flower in his closet (one of his servants must have decided that the previous odor of moth-preventing powder was too hideous to endure. Boots took but a moment to pull on, and before five minutes had passed his jaw was clean of overnight bristles and the lord of the estate was striding quickly down the hall, buttoning the cuffs of a dignified-looking black overcoat.<br/><br/>He fully expected to be the first person in the dining hall; to his surprise, two females glanced up when he entered the room.<br/><br/>The housekeeper, Mrs. Bertram, immediately stood up and curtsied awkwardly, though Corsair tried to stop her before she injured herself again. Giving Lhurriel a motherly pat on the shoulder, the woman told Corsair she would bring his usual breakfast palate in herself, leaving before the young lord could protest or find someone else to do the task.<br/><br/>"Still matchmaking," Lhurriel laughed sheepishly, a furious blush staining her cheeks. "I wish you would tell her that we won't ever marry - couldn't ever marry."