~Lucille's POV~

All the servants had abandoned us, disappearing into the vast manor, leaving me with the stoic Lord Phantomhive. We stood in painfully awkward silence for what seemed like an eternity, though I knew it had only been a few minutes judging by the chill beginning to seep into my body from the crisp November wind.

Lord Phantomhive cleared his throat after another long moment and shifted uncomfortably distributing his weight from left foot to right foot. There was a look of uncertainty upon his handsome face, his dark azure eyes appeared to be filling with anxiousness. "Shall we?" He offered his arm to me with a graceful half bow.

Hesitantly, I placed my hand over his arm and allowed him to steer me through the double doors. We stepped into a brilliant ballroom with an enchanting gold chandelier hanging from the ceiling; it was easily the size of a draft horse and shimmered brightly up above illuminating the great ballroom. The grand staircase leading to the upper floors would put any of the Paris Opera house staircases to shame. It was pristine and perfectly polished. The floors were a majestic marble matching the few marble pillars that lined the walls giving the room a slight Mediterranean feel as it reminded me of art I had seen that showcased Greek mythology. My gaze rose to the top of the grand staircase to a massive oil portrait of a handsome family of three.

"My late parents." Lord Phantomhive indicated the portrait that had caught my attention.

I lowered my gaze, "I'm so sorry for your loss."

"Oh, so you can speak?" His dark suave voice had a hint of amusement laced within it.

I chanced a glance in his direction and saw a small smirk upon his lips. "You weren't much better." My tongue ran away from me before I could stop myself and I almost cringed once the words left my mouth.

Cyril chuckled at this, "You're right. My apologies, I don't make it out into society very often so my manners escape me at times." He offered me a charming smile, "Cas was right, you do have a sharp tongue."

I bit my lip to keep from saying anything further, of course his servants had been reporting on my behavior to him. His gaze was upon me, calculating and scrutinizing, watching my every move. After a short pause, I met his gaze and waited expectantly. What was I supposed to do? How was I supposed to act? I didn't know how to get close to a man. Why didn't I steal a stupid romance novel from one of the maids to study?

A faint smile tugged at the corners of his lips, "Let us begin." He turned to the right and headed for a set of double doors, "This is my study, I spend the majority of my time here so if you ever need me, chances are you can find me in here."

The room smelled of parchment paper, freshly bound books, ink and tea leaves. It was intoxicating. There were shelves upon shelves filled with various volumes on an array of subjects, there were a few strategy books I recognized, a few I didn't, there was a section on philosophy, a section on poetry, and so much more. Cyril cleared his throat after a moment. I must have been lost in splendor at all the new books and authors I'd never encountered.

"Do you like reading?" He pondered with a somewhat forced smile, he was trying to engage me in conversation. Enzo did mention that he didn't want some stuffy china doll like girl. And Anders mentioned something about my temper being a good thing. Perhaps if I acted somewhat like my normal self, attempting to be on good behavior, it would work out.

"That depends upon the material." I noted hoping my voice was steady as my nerves were currently going insane.

"Cas mentioned you had a book of poetry in your satchel, do you like poetry?" He inquired.

I should have known they'd go through my belongings. With the rocky relationship between the French and English it was to be expected of them to have their suspicions. Luckily, I carried all my weaponry on my person and in secret compartments in my trunk.

"Ah, not that he was going through your stuff or anything; he said he saw it when you were putting something in your bag." Cyril amended after noticing my slight pause. I must have revealed too much on my face; I'd have to be more conscious of my facial expressions.

"I find poetry rather dull." My tongue ran away from me once more and I chanced a glance in Lord Phantomhive's direction awaiting his reaction. There were many poetry volumes on the shelves. What if he loved poetry?

He chuckled, "Well that's a relief, at least I won't have to recite boring sonnets to court you."

"Is it customary for the English to court their intended?" I asked curiously as I followed him to the left to another set of doors.

"Not in particular." He chuckled, "Though usually you grow up with your intended and see them every year, as noble marriages are typically arranged at birth. I thought given our circumstances, it would make you more comfortable."

I smiled softly at this, that was a very sweet gesture and not at all what I was expecting. "I like flowers." My voice sounded soft and vulnerable when I spoke and I saw a glimmer of something revealed in his azure eyes, but it was gone in the next instant.

Cyril smirked, "Flowers, yes. Poetry, no. We're off to a great start."

"And what do you like to read, Lord Phantomhive?" I asked as I followed him into the next room.

"I like to read about science and business, though I will admit I do love a good mystery." He smiled more to himself, "You may address me as Cyril, if you like, there's no need to be formal." He replied as we stepped into a decent sized parlor room.

There were various lounges and poufs in varying shades of azure with silver and hunter green accents. Two bay windows lay adjacent from one another with thick azure curtains and lined with silver and green pillows. The fireplace in the corner was ablaze, though it looked as if it had just been lit as the logs weren't completely aflame.

"How about a little game, to liven up the tour?"

I turned to him curiously, "What sort of game?"

Cyril thought for a moment, "I don't know if there is a title for it, but let's call it a getting acquainted game. During each part of the tour we'll each ask a question and the other answers."

"Very well." I agreed.

"Ladies first."

"Why wasn't your marriage arranged at birth?" I pondered as I trailed after him through the parlor to another set of doors that opened to a large hall with one side lined entirely with floor to ceiling windows overlooking a beautiful garden.

"It was, however my betrothed, had a rare blood disease that caused her blood to not clot as it should. She had an accident when she was very young and passed away." Cyril replied tonelessly.

"I'm sorry."

He shrugged, "I'd never met the girl, so I wasn't exactly heartbroken or anything."

I stared out at the lush garden in awe. There were winter blossoms growing in various shades of whites and blues. If the garden was this lively near winter, it had to be breathtaking in spring and summer.

"What do you like to do to pass the time?" He asked as we reached the end of the hall and he opened another set of doors.

I paused for a moment to think, I couldn't rightly answer with swordplay. "I like dancing." That was close enough, many sword patterns were similar to dance patterns so it wasn't necessarily a lie. We were in an immaculate kitchen complete with a servant's staircase leading upward and another leading downward to a connected pantry and cellar. There was a haggard looking man who appeared to be in his late forties sitting at a wooden table near the window where I assumed the staff took their meals.

"That's cook." Cyril said in hushed tones, "It's in your best interest not to eat anything he prepares."

"He fought for your country." I scolded him lightly.

Cyril chuckled, "He fought against yours."

"Are you saying I should be wary of foul play?" I pondered.

"I hope not." Cyril smirked before calling to the man, "Hey, Cook. You won't try to poison my pretty little bride, will you?"

The haggard man nearly fell out of his seat at the sudden sound before swiveling around to face us. He looked aged beyond his years, his face was wrinkled and scarred from past injuries and there was a permanent black mark above his right eye from the gunpowder of his firearm. A telltale sign he'd been in the war. His wiry grey eyes zeroed in on me in an instant.

"Master, you're marrying a French lass?" He scrutinized me.

We were on his turf; he could have a whole arsenal of weaponry within the cupboards of his kitchen domain. My body was tense and I steeled myself for whatever action he may take. His hands were shaky, even if he somehow managed to get to a weapon before I could react, he'd have a hard time hitting a target that moved as fast as I did. I relaxed as this thought calmed me.

"Don't like the French." Cook muttered under his breath.

"Well you don't have to like her, but you're not allowed to harm her." Cyril commanded.

"Aye." Cook nodded before going back to his wooden table.

"I think I made a friend." I sneered as we left the kitchen and stepped into a lavish dining room with a large mahogany table. The table had intricate carvings and embellishments. It looked like something one would find in a royal palace.

Cyril chuckled, "Don't worry about cook. He's completely harmless when he's not cooking."

"Well, that makes perfect sense." I held back a laugh, "Do you often hire incompetent staff?"

Cyril smirked at this, "I wouldn't call him incompetent, what he lacks in his ability to cook he makes up for in other areas."

That seemed like a slightly dodgy answer. He was a war veteran of course he would have tactical knowledge as well as a basic comprehension of various weapons and possibly interrogation tactics. Why would a normal aristocrat need to have such a person as a member of his staff? Though it was to be expected for the watchdog to the royal family.

"What was your favorite family holiday?" Cyril asked continuing the game as we made our way up the grand ballroom staircase after exiting the dining hall.

"We didn't really go on family holidays. My elder brothers tell me they used to, my mother always planned them, but she died shortly after I was born." I noted as I gazed once more at the oil family portrait hanging at the top of the grand staircase. He looked like he had a happy childhood from the light in his eyes and the carefree smile on his face.

"I'm sorry for your loss." Cyril bowed his head.

I never knew my mother, though I often wondered what life would have been like with her in it, I didn't feel empty without her. She had never been a part of my life. One cannot lose what they never had. "What do you do for a living? My father told me you were a businessman as well as an aristocrat."

"Well it's still a work in progress, but I run the Funtom Company. Right now, it's just confectionary candies and the like, but perhaps someday we'll branch out and do more." Cyril noted as we reached the second floor. "This floor is mainly bedrooms and guest rooms." He noted as he passed a few doors indicating they were guestrooms before stopping at yet another set of double doors in the middle of the corridor. "What's the nature of your relationship with Silas?" He asked as he pushed open the double doors.

The doors opened into a library with even more books than were in Cyril's study. There were books from floor to ceiling and wall to wall. Comfy poufs littered the room. The wall opposite the doors was nothing but windows with a long-cushioned bench running beneath with shelves cut into the bottom with more books.

"He's my servant." I replied coolly as I took a step inside the library and made my way to the wall of windows. They overlooked the courtyard directly over the sparkling fountain. How had I missed the fountain on our way in? Though I guess I did keep my head down and my hood pulled over my face. The servants were all sitting around the fountain talking. Silas was standing a little way off surveying the surrounding area making mental notes of potential threats and emergency escape routes.

"What did he do to make you angry?" Cyril pondered as he appeared at my side his gaze automatically falling on Silas down below.

"He said something out of line." I turned to meet his gaze to gauge his reaction and get a better grip on what was going through his mind.

His face was a poised mask of indifference. He revealed nothing. This man was going to be a challenge. "In the future, if you have a problem with one of the staff, I'd like you to come to me first. I'm not sure if it is customary to act so passionately in your country, but it's not customary here."

The way he said the word 'passionately' set my nerves on edge. He suspected there was something between Silas and I, which meant getting close to him was going to be difficult. I really needed to get my hands on a romance novel or something to learn more on such matters. Perhaps I could talk to Rose. If I approached it right she'd just think they were pre-marriage jitters.