To his compliment, she replied with what he assumed was Welsh. The way she said it, all embarrased but with while playfully tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear, he let himself believe it was a compliment and smiled. He didn’t know if the language itself was beautiful and he was just insulted, or the words were beautiful and she was just embarrased to say it to him. The idea she would compliment him made him blush and as he put his hand over his mouth and cheeks to hide the redness of his cheeks from her mother, an awkward silence occured, but thankfully Bridget was quick to do something as she lead them back to the parlor. I suppose somewhere in the sentence she spoke in Welsh she agreed to his proposition, or maybe she didn’t and just started walking, he really didn’t know. As she walked he made sure to take slow but noisy footsteps close enough to her so that she might hear it. Although he assume she would hear every floorboard creek and footstep that caused it, he wanted to make identifying it easier for her. She suddenly picked up the tray of food and offering some to him. "Please, Lord Brantley, make yourself at home. Can I get you anything?” She asked. He slowly took the try out of her hands, to not startle her, and put it aside. He then replied softly. “Yes, you can give me your hands. I have a gift for you.” He said, finally being able to give her the gift that’s been laying in his pocket all this while. He took her left hand with his right and slowly turned it so the palm was now facing upwards. He then placed something that to her felt like a tiny box into her hands. The box was wrapped in red ribbon with a bow on top while the ribbon carefully avoided the odd metal sticking out of the box. "It is a tiny music box."
@Bluecookies - Bridget