At the sound of his voice, she glanced up from the teacup in her hand. "Hello, Mister Blackwood," she said softly, then looked down again and set the vessel aside to dry. She followed suit with the saucer, then grabbed the nearby towel to dry her hands before addressing him again. "Is there anything I can do for ye, sir?" she asked, still not looking at him at that moment. It hurt a little to look his way at the moment. She couldn't help but feel like she just wanted to wrap her arms around him and hold him, but to do so in the kitchen where anyone could just walk in would have been improper of her. It'd been different while they were having a private moment.

She swallowed heavily, though not audibly, and then finally turned her dark gaze his way, carefully schooling her face so it wouldn't show her emotions. She had been deep in thought, even so far as contemplating her leaving the manor to save herself the heartache of loving a man so deeply that it physically hurt. She shouldn't be pining for him, she chided herself, shouldn't let her heart be tangled up in his mess. She had no business. But the thought of never seeing him again hurt even more. Suddenly, he might see that her eyes were brimming with moisture and she kind of turned her head once again to try and hide that fact.