Kerry Cove
Brighton, UK

Outfit

Oscar was still deciding if he detested the idea of being set up on a blind date by someone in the family. He was related through marriage to Melanthe Grumman (his cousin had married her aunt) and thus he saw her often at family gatherings and other social events that family attended en mass. But that didn't mean they knew each other well and that her judgment on who he should date could be trusted. Afterall, he wouldn't claim to know anything about what kind of man would be well suited for Melanthe. The Russian witch was a bit intimidating, and that was saying a lot considering Oz was not often intimidated by women. So if she made him uncomfortable, Oz could only imagine what she might do to any of his friends should he even consider fixing them up.

In Melanthe's efforts to convince Oz to accept the idea of dating her friend, she sang the young woman's praises. She was smart, beautiful, pureblooded and completely loyal. Clearly he had underestimated Melanthe and her knowledge of what was important to him. The first three traits were a given for anyone who knew the Whitman's well. But the last requirement was Oz's own and was often left unspoken.

Melanthe's parting words once she had given him her friend's contact information made him smirk now. She had implored him to keep his sarcasm and pessimism in check, lest he ruin the potential for a good thing.

Perhaps I should make that a requirement as well, Oz inwardly mused. Afterall, how could I possibly adore someone who did not appreciate my surly demeanor?

For the date with Melanthe's friend, he had invited her to join him for an evening in the Wizarding village named for his grandmother's family. Though he planned for the night to start a his home with some drinks, Oz was not intending for it to end there. Despite his love-hating ways, he was actually going to come to the date with an open mind, which was a huge leap. Now whether this effort was genuine or because he knew Melanthe was capable of tanning his hide was still to be seen.

Oscar took a gulp from the tumbler he was drinking from before depositing it on the nearest table. Then, he exited the drawing room into the great hallway leading to the home's main entrance. There was a large, ornately framed, full length mirror and he stopped in front of it to checked over his appearance.

His fingertips instinctively went to his tie, but not surprisingly, there was nothing to adjust because it was already perfectly knotted. He was about to lower his hand when he turned it over to glance at his watch.

"I hope this friend of hers is not fond of being fashionably late," he muttered.

Liadan stood in front of the mirror and latched a sapphire necklace around her neck before fluffing out the skirt of the blue dress she was wearing. Melanthe had refused to let her wear any of her more traditional garb- swearing it was inappropriate for a date. They had argued- literally for hours- before compromising on a blue, conservative cocktail dress. Melanthe had tried to encourage Liadan to show more cleavage. The last time she agreed to do that, she had ended up in a strange, turbulent, semi-relationship with Gregory Morozov. However handsome Gregory might have been, they had been very far from compatible.

So when Melanthe had said she had a cousin that she wanted to set Liadan up with, she was obviously hesitant. "I am still seeing Christian!" she had protested. To which Melanthe told her that they both knew it wasn't going to work, and that it was time for her get serious about her future. Liadan was not sure how she felt about the prolonged future of her relationship with Christian, it was still a struggle for her. But Melanthe was her friend- and she was incredibly persistent, and eventually Liadan had given in and agreed to go. But she was not going to have fun, she reassured her friend. No fun at all.

And after she had agreed to go, Liadan had discovered she was supposed to meet him at his private home. How scandalous! Liadan was fairly certain that she had enough scandal the last month. After taking Christian out with her to the Valentine's Day party she had shocked a lot of people. And gotten a lot of crap from a lot of people she had spouted her purist views on.

But the idea of meeting a man, for the first time, at his place of residence, was just... inappropriate. The only thing Liadan could think of was that he would be just like Gregory Morozov and spend the whole evening attempting to figure out the best way to get into her knickers. The answer to that was simple: to marry her, because that was the only way to get Liadan to drop the metaphorical chastity belt. But marriage was not anywhere on the horizon, it seemed, and she most certainly did not intend for this date to result in a marriage. Those were incredibly unreasonable expectations.

She had never been to Kerry Cove before, and Liadan's own home was not connected to most places via floo network. And apparating to a place you had never visited before was likely to cause splinching. It was for these reasons that she had gotten ready at Melanthe's home- so that her friend could sidelong apparate her to Oz Whitman's home. Once outside the door, Melanthe gave Liadan one final, approving glance before brushing a gentle kiss to each kiss. Then she was gone in a quiet pop, and Liadan was left on the stoop.

Liadan carefully ran her fingers through her hair, adjusted her dress, and fiddled with her necklace before dropping the knocker against the door. Hopefully he would not hear, and if he did not hear, Liadan could apparate back home and not have to worry about the awkwardness that was certainly about to ensue.

Hearing the knock, Oz waved off the eagerness of the house elves to attend the door, choosing to answer it himself. He was a snob, for sure. But even he could open a door and welcome a lady friend. Or someone who might become a lady friend at some point. He had no expectations as far as longevity was concerned.

After one more absent-minded touch of his tie knot, Oz threw open the door to behold the beauty that his cousin Melanthe had willed him to see by setting up the date.

She was a tiny thing standing there on his stoop and she looked as though she might blow away if the wind picked up. But her diminutive stature had a charming quality about it and he couldn't deny that the rest of her was lovely as well. The thought of how perfectly her fair hair, pale skin and light blue eyes would fit in with the rest of the Whitmans  did cross his mind ever so briefly. She could not talk for the rest of the date and still be one up on the rest of the female population in his eyes.

"Miss Ó Móráin," he said quietly, extending his hand towards her to both greet her and to also guide her inside. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you. Melanthe has spoken so highly of you that I was overcome with anticipation to see you in the flesh. Please....do come inside."

Liadan looked at the man who opened the door, and offered a soft smile after inspecting him. He was handsome. Tall- but not towering, which was good for a lady as short as Liadan was. He also appeared to be in good shape, something his outfit did not hide. Liadan was especially fond of the blue eyes that peered at her, and she took his hand gently- allowing the man to lead her into his home. Perhaps Melanthe did not have such horrible taste after all, this Whitman seemed to be the opposite of the sorts of men that Liadan would expect her friend to set her up with.

"Mr. Whitman," she greeted with a gentle nod. "And I certainly hope I am capable of living up to the reputation which precedes me... Assuming, of course, that the reputation is an appropriate one." Liadan hoped that Melanthe hadn't told her relative any embarrassing or false stories. Hopefully Melanthe wouldn't do anything like that. But women in socialite circles had a habit of downplaying their competition.

"I must say that your home is most impressive, Mr. Whitman," she commented. It hadn't been anything like she had expected. Most purebloods had large estates with sprawling grounds- but Kerry Cove was situated in the midst of a lake. It was beautiful, really. A wonderful means of keeping people out, she thought. Perhaps a well placed moat would serve her well. She would like to see that meddling investigator find his way into the moat and never come out.

Oz bowed his head just slightly at the sound of her using his name, although being called Mr. Whitman often still made him look around in search of his father or even his uncle, despite the latter no longer being alive. Somehow he just did not feel old enough to be considered a Mister.

His delicate nature continued with her speaking and she seemed to be saying all the right things. Respectful and modest and still very beautiful. All things that would make her an ideal adornment to his arm. Though she seemed to be everything that Melanthe touted her as being from looks and first impressions, Oz was still skeptical about her ability to meet his other criteria. That was not so easily determined from surface level interactions.

Oz escorted her inside and closed the door behind them. He then indicated to a door not far away that led into a room used for entertaining. Back when his grandmother was head of it, the room had a far more feminine touch, but Oz had made some adjustments since assuming the role of master of Kerry Cove.

He cleared his throat. "Indeed it is quite lovely," he began with a smile as he offered her a seat on a settee in the room. "My grandmother wanted to make it a museum upon her death. Unfortunately, the Kerry line ended with her and she felt it would be a fitting place for heritage exhibits." He paused and a smile teased at his lips. "But I convinced her that allowing someone to live here and take care of it or make use of how beautiful it was better."

Oz moved to get them drinks and offhandedly asked, "I will concede that it probably needs a feminine mistress again. I fear that my caretaking might be one dimensional. I think Witch Weekly might accuse me of having a Bachelor Pad." He looked over at her and asked, "What do you think?"

"I cannot imagine allowing one's family home to become a museum for wizarding heritage, I am glad you convinced her otherwise. Imagine the people who would be traipsing in and out of the family home at that point!" she exclaimed with a look of mild disgust. "I may be the last of the O Morains- the proper line anyway- but I cannot imagine letting the estate become anything less than what it should be. It is good of you, Mr. Whitman, to make use of such a gorgeous home. I'm afraid my estate simply pales in comparison!"

Liadan followed him through the door he had indicated, keeping half a step behind as he led, caught slightly off guard by the comment he made about the home needing a feminine mistress. "I wouldn't know what Witch Weekly would think- I don't read such drivel," she told him, "although if my opinion matters, I would not consider my limited exposure to your decorating skills to be reminiscent of a bachelor pad."

She paused for a moment, casting a scrutinizing gaze across the room. "One dimensional, perhaps," she confessed honestly, "though I believe that masculine is a more appropriate word. And, Mr. Whitman, there is nothing inherently wrong with having masculine decor in a home. Even if you were to find a new mistress for your home, it would be my suggestion not to let her take over every aspect. A man needs to feel at ease in his own home, and if the entire house is flowered and drowned in pink that would be quite unsuitable."

"My father always supervised my mother's decorating at the estate," she told him. "Women easily get carried away with such things, a strong, masculine force is always needed to reign us in when dealing with such matters."

Liadan hoped her answer had been suitable. This part of the game could be tiring. One wrong word and the entire evening could be ruined. And her answer to a simple question had been somewhat rambling, so she fell quiet again, peering up at the handsome gentleman through her lashes as she awaited his reaction to her honesty. Speak not unless spoken to, she heard her mother's voice chirruping in her mind.

Oz poured two glasses of a wine and walked back to Lia to hold it out to her. He was glad that she agreed with what he had done to Kerry Cove. He was well aware that many in the family had bristled at his takeover of the estate, essentially disregarding what Marie Kerry Whitman had decreed. But Oz didn't care what his grandmother had wanted. It only mattered what Oz wanted and very few in the family dared to challenge him when there was something he wanted.

"Yes, I felt the same way," Oz intoned, inwardly scoffing at his grandmother's altruistic intentions. "But that was my grandmother--the philanthropist. She was always trying to do good for everyone else." Oz didn't elaborate on the point of the home being a museum and how people would be coming and going with him still there. His grandmother had not intended for anyone to live in Kerry Cove; she had intended for the estate to only be a museum.

Oscar was pleased to hear that this Liadan was not much of a reader of Witch Weekly. Oz had had the misfortune of reading about many aspects of his life through the magazine - truth, rumors and everything in between. It seemed to follow him wherever he went. And while he had contributed to the fodder for many years, he knew that he didn't want his life to only be about that. He listened to what Lia had to say about his concerns that what he had done to the home was too masculine. He nodded with each point that she made. "Of course your opinion matters." Especially if she agreed with him. He grinned. "Your father sounds like he was an honorable man. I'm sure he was proud to have such a lovely daughter."

Oz indicated to a sofa and several luxurious chairs in the room and said, "Please, do sit." He took a quick sip of his drink and told her, "I feel as though I should apologize for inviting you here instead of meeting you someplace more traditional." He brought his free hand to rest on his chest. "I hope you know there is no ill intent on my doing so. But I thought you might enjoy a stroll of area. Brighton is such a nice area. And then perhaps we can find someplace to eat."

"I understand. My cousin Loathario is the philanthropist sort. Always giving money to charities, organizing events, and things of that nature. Which would be alright if they were appropriate charities for a man of his breeding, intellect, and wealth." Her voice dropped low, "Even charities for the muggleborns!" She placed a hand over her heart. How awful that was! Giving money to muggles. They could get money from their own governments- they didn't need the money of people like her cousin!

And when he assured her that her father must be proud to have had a lovely daughter, she batted her eyelashes and blushed. "Well, I certainly have tried to do his memory- the memory of my mother- honor. It's important to me to do things that they would have approved of." Taking a halfblood to the Valentine's Day ball excluded, of course. But hopefully they would not have to talk about that.

Liadan settled herself onto one side of a sofa, peering up at him when he assured her that his intentions were honorable. "I would not think so low of such a gentleman," she assured Oz. "I'm quite flattered you would invite me to visit your home- it is quite exquisite. And I do believe that a walk would be a nice way to spend the evening. I'm not very familiar with the area. If I am not in Ireland or London, I'm generally in Paris or on a beach in France with my family."

She carefully settled her dress around her legs again, readjusting herself on the sofa. The only inconvenient thing about being so small was that her feet never touched the ground- and she blushed, embarrassed, when one of her shoes slipped from foot, clattering to the floor. "Goodness," she said quietly, avoiding Oz's gaze as she scooted forward on the cushion, bending at the waist to pluck it from the floor.

Oscar's expression visibly changed when she mentioned that her cousin gave money to muggle charities. Well that is just tasteless, he thought to himself. Oz clearly would never engage in such behavior and he did his best to avoid those people who did. Even though Lia professed to dislike what her cousin did, Oz dearly hoped the young woman would not eventually fall into that same line of thinking. All too often good pureblooded folk were persuaded to abandon their long held beliefs in the name of compassion. It was pathetic. Compassion had nothing to do with maintaining the status quo--purebloods being pureblooded and keeping muggles and muggleborns out of it.

Oz cleared his throat and opted to keep his more extreme views to himself. Not everyone could stomach them and he still did not know this woman well enough to be able to tell if she was likely to bolt from his company at such extreme thinking. So Oz returned to complimenting her. "I'm sure you succeed quite well," he told her with a nod. "Melanthe says that you run the family business and I must commend you for doing that with what seems to be so little help."

Oz made sure that how he was sitting would not wrinkle the suit he was wearing. He was glad that she agreed he had no ill intent in having her come to his home first. He almost chuckled at her comment about him being a gentleman, because if she knew him better, she might not think so highly of him. Still, he had promised Melanthe that he would treat her friend with respect and he did not wish to think about the consequences of not doing so.

"Well, I suppose it does help to have a reason to stay in the country more," Oz quipped good naturedly. "Perhaps you will find an incentive to not go running off to Paris so much, no?" Oz held up his glass and flashed her a half smile. "Cheers to new friendships....or more."

The smile broadened as her shoe hit the floor. Amused, he pretended to turn away and claimed, "I saw nothing..."

"Someone has to run it," she lamented. "When I get married I shall pawn it off on my husband and do things more appropriate for a young witch. Even if he hires someone to take care of business I wouldn't mind- because it wouldn't be my responsibility anymore. And then one of my sons will take it over after that," she informed Oscar quite matter of factly. She had obviously given this subject quite a bit of thought. But Liadan did not want him to think that she spent all her time daydreaming about having a husband and children- and was glad when he gave her a reason to drop the subject.

And then he said something about incentive not to go to the country. Because of friends... or more? Liadan blushed, clinked her glass with his, and took a sip of the wine. She could not have much- which she knew. Liadan knew how alcohol affected her, and it wasn't a good idea to indulge when on a date. Especially not when she was on a date.

She slipped her shoe back onto her foot, and then smiled at Oz. "More?" she inquired. "Whatever could you mean, Mr. Whitman?" Hopefully he would pick up on the hint and drown her in flattery. With Liadan compliments went much further than things like dinner or drinks. Jewelry was likely the only other thing she enjoyed quite as much as being told she was wonderful, marvelous, and beautiful and all of those other things.