Through the mirror, Regina watches the boys playing on her bed as Belle fastens the back of her dress, slowly working her way up her back as she twists the tiny buttons into place.

It's taken her a long time to get used to allowing a maid to dress her–used to having someone hand's on her, pushing and prodding at her, and giving up a sort of autonomy that she'd become used to. But Belle was easy to get along with–she was quiet and good natured, and he was one of the few servants at Sherwood who didn't serve her begrudgingly. And in the months since she and Robin hired her, they'd built up quite a rapport and she'd become something of a confidant.

For a moment, she watches Roland's little hands push her jewelry into a heap at the center of her bed as Henry guides the little wooden dragon that Robin had given him toward it, making a soft whirring noise as his floats the dragon above the jewelry. They both giggle as the dragon lands atop his hoard–and she finds it impossible not to smile at them–and if there's anything positive that's come out of this arrangement, it's that Henry has a playmate–a friend and a brother–to help occupy his time and give him something of a normal childhood.

"Belle," she murmurs as she tears her eyes away, shifting them to her maid. "About the… other morning."

"I'm sorry?"

"Um, the morning that you came in to wake me and found…" Her voice trails off and she again glances to the boys, who seem completely unaware of her existence. "Well, when you found Robin in my bed," she says, in a hushed voice. "I realize that was uncomfortable for you."

"Oh," she breathes out, her eyes nervously falling to the back of Regina's dress as she focuses her attention on the buttons. "I don't know why it was such a shock. You're a married woman and…"

"But it's not like that between Robin and I," Regina cuts in. "Our marriage… it's not like that."

A grin edges onto her lips. "Yes, m'lady," she says with a nod as she pulls away from her. "Would you like to wear the black gloves or the cream ones?" Belle turns to the dressing table and plucks up one of each, and holds it out. "They'd both look fine with your dress."

"Yes, I suppose they would," Regina murmurs as she looks between them. "So, I suppose the only question is which would vex my mother more–black or cream." She sighs. "She'll find fault in one of them."

Belle's brow arches. "And you… want to vex her?"

"I'll have to do something to make this dinner less dull," Regina says, laughing a little as she shrugs. "And if she's going to be upset with me, I'd much rather it be over something trivial like wearing the wrong color gloves to dinner…. Than whatever she thinks up in the moment."

Belle nods as she looks down. "So, we've just to decide which is wrong…"

"Exactly."

"That's quite arbitrary."

"With my mother, it always is," Regina sighs as she looks between them again, then looks toward the bed. "Henry, which do you think I should wear? The black ones or the cream ones?"

Henry looks up sharply, craning his neck for a better look at the gloves as his expression grows serious. "I like the black ones."

"I would have to agree," Robin says, rasping his knuckles against the back of the door as he pops in his head. "They look elegant… and, assuming that your goal truly is to get underneath your mother's skin, and assuming that your mother is an expert on all things proper, I think it's worth mentioning that she just arrived sporting a pair of white gloves."

"Black it is, then," Regina says, tapping her hand against the glove as Belle giggles softly. "So, does this mean you've come to collect me for dinner."

"We should go down soon and rescue your poor father from the miserable company of my father and your mother, but I am actually looking for two little boys who should be in the nursery getting ready for their dinner."

Regina's eyes slide to her bed where the boys are playing, and a grin pulls onto her lips as Roland's eyes widen. "But the dragon must guard his hoard!"

"Is nanny upset?" Henry asks. "When she gets upset with us she scowls and…" He sighs. "It's not very pleasant."

"No, dinner hasn't arrived yet, so she hasn't had reason to get upset just yet" Robin says. "And perhaps," he murmurs as he steps into the room. "We could lock up the room for dinner, so that no one comes in and steals the dragon's jewels."

"That could work," Henry decides.

Regina laughs. "Or, we could store them away, under lock and key in, in a box for safe keeping." She nods to a wooden box at the foot of her bed. "You know, like the one the one which the dragon found his hoard."

"That could work, too," Henry says with a sigh as he reaches for her jewelry box, scooping up the pile of tangled necklaces and bracelets. "Oh…"

Tugging on the second glove, Belle shakes her head. "I'll manage that," she tells Henry. "You two should go wash up for dinner. Don't give your nanny a reason to scowl."

The boys roll off of the bed and scurry out of the room while Belle retreats into the closet to untangle the jewelry–and through the mirror, Regina can't help but notice Robin's eyes on her, staring at her with an indescribable look that makes her stomach flutter.

"I was thinking," she begins, taking a breath as she turns to face him. "I'm going to go into town tomorrow with Belle. I want to make sure the neckline of the dress I ordered is where I want it to be."

"You're going into town," Robin says, brightening. "I could escort you."

"Oh, you don't have to–"

"I want to." He grins as he offers her his arm and with a reluctant sigh, she slips her arm around his. "I could take the boys. We could visit some of the shops while you're at the dressmaker, then we could rendezvous for a picnic in the park."

"And what about Belle?"

A grin pulls onto Robin's lips. "I'm sure she wouldn't complain about an afternoon off."

"That… does sound nice."

"Much nicer than anything I've got planned for the day."

"So, it's… a date then."

"It is."

Taking a breath, they walk out into the hall, slowly making their way downstairs to where her parents and his father are waiting in the drawing room. Regina feels her shoulders tense at the sound of her mother's voice scolding someone and Robin sighs as he looks to her, shaking his head.

"Oh, Regina, really? Black gloves?" Cora says too loudly as she clicks her tongue as the enter the room. "Honestly…"

"Let her alone, Cora," Henry sighs, already sounding exhausted. "For once, just let her be."

"I will not. Look at her. She looks like a trollop in mourning."

Regina's brow furrows as she looks to Robin, finding his eyes wide and his jaw lax. "Thank you, mother. That's… exactly the look I was hoping for."

Robin snickers as his father bristles. "Come on, then. Now that you two are here, we can get on with this."

"With any luck," Robin murmurs as his father rises, leading the rest out toward the dining room. "This will be over quickly."

"Do you think there will be any survivors?"

"Hopefully us."

A grin tugs up from the corner of her mouth. "I say we just let them tear each other apart."

"It'd be quite a show," Robin says, keeping his voice low as he nods in agreement. "And how lucky are we to have a front row seat."

At that, Cora turns sharply in their direction, her jaw tightening and her eyes narrowing as she stares at her daughter and son-in-law. Regina can't quite tell if she heard them, though she guesses not, and there's something about the glint in Cora's eye that says she didn't, because instead of disapproval there's something else that she can't quite decipher.

They all take a seat at table and the footmen begin to serve them–and for too long of a time, no one say anything. Turning her head as she accepts a cut of meat, Regina looks to Robin, her bows arching as a grin edges onto his lips. Across from her are her parents–her father looking like he'd rather be anywhere else in the world and her mother still glaring at her with that odd look, and at the head of the table is Richard, looking as if he were in physical pain.

"It's… so kind of you to have us here tonight," Henry says, clearing his throat and looking in the direction of Robin's father. "It's always a special treat when we can get 'round to see our daughter and grandson."

"Yes, I'd imagine," Richard replies dryly, not looking up as he's served a vegetable.

"Perhaps I can take you up to see the boys after dinner," Regina murmurs. "It'll be late, but I usually go up and read them a bedtime story after dinner."

A grin pulls onto her father's lips. "I'd like to see–"

"A story," Cora cuts in, her voice rising over her husband's as her tongue clicks with disapproval. "Regina, you're not serious. You're not their nanny."

"No," she replies as her jaw tense. "I'm their mother and if I choose to read them a bedtime story, I am well within my right."

"But, Regina, that's why you have–"

"I realize that it's not your style of parenting, mother," Regina cuts in, her voice shaking as heat rises up the back of her neck. Swallowing hard, she can see Robin's gaze from the corner of her eye and she can see a soft grin pulling onto his lips. "But way I choose to be a parent and the choices in that arena are off limits. You don't have to approve, but you don't get to criticize."

Cora's chin tips up as a footman offers her a dinner roll. "I just think that you should attempt to focus on… other arenas," she says. "Like cementing your place in society and… undoing some of the damage that's already been done."

"Well, I can agree there," Richard scoffs.

"Oh, but that's not necessary," Robin interjects, looking between them all. "She has her place, here with the estate."

"I hardly think…"

"Considering the estate's wealth is more than a third hers, I see no reason that in five years when estate becomes mine that she shouldn't help oversee it."

"You mean, she'll co-run the estate?" Henry asks, looking pointedly at Robin.

"Yes," Robin says easily as a smile pulls onto her father's lips and her mother's eyes narrow skeptically. "It only seems fair, and recently, I've discovered she's quite a knack for it."

"And when the estate is… well, passed along," Cora asks, making no attempt to hide her intention. "What happens then?"

"It'll pass on to the boys–to both Roland and Henry equally. My thought is that Roland would inherit Sherwood and half the money, and Henry would inherit your home and the other half of the money."

"Right down the middle…"

Robin nods, but before he can manage to find his voice, Cora's voice interjects. "And, in the case of other children? What happens to the estate then?" Her brow arches as she looks pointedly at Regina. "There will be other children, won't there?"

Feeling her cheeks warm, she nods. "We're… trying."

"Are you?"

"They are, indeed," Richard supplies, sighing heavily as he looks between them. "Now, if we could shift the conversation to a topic less tacky than money and child rearing, I might actually be able to digest my dinner."

For several moments, no one says anything. Instead, they all just focus on their food, likely all wanting to make this dinner as short as possible. Beneath the table, Robin's hand falls over her thigh, and when she looks at him, she finds him grinning. He offers her a quick wink as he squeezes her leg in a way that's somehow comforting and reassuring, then withdraws his hand, clearing his throat as he inquires whether or not Cora and Henry will be attending the church bazaar in the coming week–and then the table shifts to charitable endeavors and investing in the community, and other duller topics that neither Cora or Richard can agree upon.

"You know," Henry begins, touching his fingertips to his daughter's arm, slowing her step as the others proceed into the drawing room after dinner. "I think I'd like to see the boy now."

"Well, there are two of them now," Regina murmurs, watching as Robin's head turns, suddenly aware that their part of five has dwindled to three. "You can't see one without the other."

"I'd like to see them," he says, glancing toward the stairs. "And I'd like a few minutes alone with you."

"Oh… alright, sure" she breathes out, nodding curtly as she tries to smile, remembering the last private conversation she had with her father and feeling a slight pang of guilt at her core as she remembers the way she spoke to him. "I'm sure Henry would like to see you," she says, as she takes a short breath and links her arm through his, turning them toward the stairs. "He misses you."

"And I miss him. The house is just so… quiet without him."

"Quiet? With mother living there?" She scoffs. "Somehow I doubt that's true."

"Well… it's a different kind of loud, then," he tells her as a chuckle rises into her voice. "But you know better than anyone I've learned to drown her out."

"I know," Regina replies quietly, feeling an uncomfortable fluttering at her stomach–something that feels like guilt and anger and regret all mixed up together and competing for her attention. "I remember…"

Henry sighs, and her eyes closes as she draws in a long breath, slowly releasing it and suddenly very aware that she's made a conscious choice not to see her father since her wedding to Robin. For the most part, it hasn't taken much effort on her part, he's stayed away. He didn't accompany Cora went she came for visits and he never came on his own or sent her a note to come up to the house only a few miles down the road. She knew that it wasn't simply to avoid her; likely, it was partially due to embarrassment–after all, it was his failed investments that led her to being practically sold off with select properties and some livestock.

But it was more than that, and she knew it.

She knew that he likely thought that she didn't want to see him. And while that might have been the case at the very beginning, it wasn't the case any longer…

On the day of her wedding, she'd been inconsolable–and she'd taken it out on him.

Even then she knew it wasn't his fault–not really–but she need someone to take the blame for her being married off to a complete stranger. And he'd been the closest target. She'd begged and cried, protesting it's fairness and question how he could let this happen to her, how he could sell his only daughter and grandson to temporarily save face. He hadn't been able to look her in the eye that day, he'd only murmured a quiet "He's a good man, give it a chance" as took her arm and the wedding march began to play.

"Daddy, about… what happened on my wedding day," she says, taking a breath as she looks over at him. "We haven't really talked since then and… I said things that…"

"No need to worry about it," he says as he tightens his arm around hers. "You had every right to say those things, to be unhappy with the turn your life had taken."

"Perhaps, but I was rather unkind."

"You were upset and you had every right to be."

"But that doesn't make it alright…"

"You can't help it," he says, a soft chuckle rising into his voice. "It's that Spanish blood you inherited from your father. It makes you fly off the handle and say things you don't mean."

A grin pulls onto her lips and she shakes her head. "I don't think I inherited my temper from you."

Henry nods and smiles gently. "Regardless, it's all water under the bridge now." Taking a breath, he looks to her. "So long as you're happy…" His voice trails off and his step slows, forcing her to stop and look at him. "I can forgive easily, Regina, but I can't forgive myself for letting this happen to you if… if…"

"I am happy," she cuts in, as a little smile edges onto her lips at that realization. "Or at least, I think I can be." Taking a breath, she takes a step, leading him down the hall toward the nursery. "And you were right that day, daddy. Robin is a good man." She feels he cheeks flush as she looks down at her feet, her stomach fluttering as she thinks of him. "Even if we're never more than friends, I'll be happy with him." Henry smiles as Regina reaches for the door knob. "I'm less happy with the nanny though," she says, opening the door and pushing in.

"Mama!" Henry calls out as she steps into the nursery. "You're late."

"I'm sorry, sweetheart," she murmurs softly, looking between the boys, already in their nightshirts. "I told you dinner was going to be late though." Henry sighs and nods. "Do you remember how I told you grandma and grandpa were coming to dinner?" She waits for Henry to nod before letting herself grin. "Well, look who made a special trip upstairs to see you," she says in a nearly sing-song voice as she steps aside, and lets her father into the nursery. Henry's eyes widen and his smile lights up his face at the sight of his grandfather and she laughs a little as she scrambles out of his be, running to him for a hug.

Regina shuts the door and sits down on the end of Roland's bed, smiling warmly as he crawls across the bed and into her lap. She kisses his messy, curly hair as he snuggles against her, resting his head on her shoulder as Henry tells his grandfather about trips to the pond and the wooden dragon that Robin gave him. He tells him about how he and Roland like to play tag in the garden and sometimes they sword fight, and he tells him about his music and painting lessons, and how he and Roland likes to spend time in the stables, brushing the horses.

She sighs a little, still thinking about the fight she had with her father on her wedding day. Though his voice had been so quiet and his eyes had avoided hers, he'd seemed so sure that she'd find happiness at Sherwood–and happiness with Robin–and wondered how it was that he knew. Everything had seemed so uncertain then, and it seemed so unlikely that an arranged marriage that served the purpose of temporarily saving her parents' drowning estate would have been something done for her benefit. It was more likely than anything else, that it'd just been some serendipitous work of fate–but, still, she wondered…

"Knock, knock," Robin's voice calls as he opens the nursery door and quickly slips inside. "I just thought you should both know what a riveting conversation you're missing downstairs." He blinks as he looks to Regina. "Your mother wasn't fond of the white roses on the table," he sighs. "Because everyone knows roses on a dinner table should be red."

"Oh…"

"And of course, my father disagrees."

"I'm sure he does."

"Cora's not used to being challenged over her ridiculousness."

"Oh, she's getting a challenge now," Robin sighs. "I ducked out when she told my father the wine was too tart."

"Uh oh," Regina murmurs, laughing softly to herself as she suddenly recalls the evening they'd snuck down into the wine cellar and snagged a few bottles of a sweet wine that hadn't been up to his father's standards. "She's entering the danger zone…"

"From your lips…" Henry sighs, his voice halting as he scoops up his grandson and carries him back over to the bed. "It was lovely to see you, my boy," he whispers as he tucks him in. "Next time, we won't go so long between visits."

"Maybe I could bring him over one day, soon."

"I'd like that," her father says, his eyes meeting hers, as he bends to kiss his grandson's forehead.

"Me, too," Henry adds in a sleep voice. "Soon…"

"Of course," he agrees, pulling back and once more, eyeing his daughter. "Now, I should go save Richard from… Cora's delightful conversation."

"You don't have to," Robin scoffs. "We could just let them… tire themselves out."

"Oh, no, no, you don't want that," he's quick to respond. "You certainly don't want that," he sighs. "She might spend the night, and… nothing quite spoils a day like Cora, first thing in the morning." Regina grins as her father offers her a quick wink. "Thank you for having us. Despite your mother blustering and rudeness, it was a lovely evening. I enjoyed it immensely."

"Liar," Regina laughs.

"It's always an enjoyable evening when I get to see my lovely daughter and grandson," he says, winking once more as he departs–and from the opposite side of the door, they hear him sigh, likely preparing himself for the carriage ride home with Cora.

"Abandoning me like that was not very nice," Robin laughs, after a moment. "The two of them together are…"

"Too much?"

"That… seems an understatement," Robin sighs. "I'm not sure I've ever been so uncomfortable. I was afraid I'd breathe wrong and they'd both pounce."

She grins as she looks down at Roland, soundly sleeping against her. "How did you manage to slip away?"

"I feigned illness."

"Fienged," she laughs. "Sure."

"In the moment, i suppose it was very real," he says, slowly standing as he bends to pull Roland from her hold. "Which, your mother attributed to the chicken being so spicy."

"But it wasn't–" She stops, shaking her head as she watches Robin tuck in Roland and a soft yawn escapes her. "Nevermind. I'd momentarily forgotten things like facts and rationale don't quite apply in circumstances involving my mother."

"Nor my father."

"No…"

For a moment, Robin just stands there, watching her with soft eyes, and she finds herself wondering what he's thinking about. There was a glint of something she couldn't quite make out in his eyes and he looked like he wanted to say something, but his voice never supplied the words.

"It's getting late," she murmurs as she shifts herself away. "I should be getting to bed because I'm sure that Belle would like to do the same."

"Yes, likely," Robin says, as he follows her out of the nursery. "Especially having such a busy day ahead."

A grin pulls onto her lips as she thinks of what lays ahead of them. What started as a simple dress fitting–and a perhaps, a bit of match-making with her maid and her dressmaker's granddaughter–had turned into a whole day away from the house with Robin and the boys, and she couldn't deny that she wasn't looking forward to it. It was nice when it was just the four of them, she thinks of herself as they make their way down the long corridor to where their bedrooms are, and she wonders what the day will bring them–and no matter what it is, she's looking forward to it.

"Well, here we are," Robin murmurs quietly as they reach her bedroom door. "I suppose it's time to say goodnight."

"Oh, I suppose it is…"

For a moment, he lingers there and she makes no effort to turn into her room–and once more, she sees that glint of something in his eyes. And then, he leans in, pressing a light flutter kiss to her lips. She doesn't have time to respond and its over almost as soon as it starts–and when he pulls back, he grins. "Goodnight, Regina," he says as he takes a step back, leaving her standing there in the doorway, her heart fluttering as her stomach flop, and her maid giggles from across the room.

By mid-morning they're on their way into town.

Regina woke that morning earlier than usual with the same odd sensation bubbling at her core that she fell asleep with, and her immediate thoughts as her eyes fluttered open that morning wondered what sort adventure the day would bring them.

When Belle came into dress her, she couldn't help but notice a giddiness about her–an excitement that wasn't usually there. It wasn't the first time she'd noticed, though–and she found herself grinning and hoping that it wouldn't be the last. The first time she'd noticed it was the morning after she'd been fitted for a dress to wear to Mary Margaret Blanchard's soiree. Belle had come in as she usually does, and to fill the silenced, she'd mentioned the dress. Belle's eyes had widened a little and her cheeks flushed–though she tried in vain to hide it–as she asked if Granny Lucas had brought her granddaughter, Ruby, along. Regina shook her head and said that she hadn't and there'd been something that looked like disappointment the registered in Belle's smile. But for the second fitting, Ruby had come along and it was hard not to notice her maid's awkward little smiles and suddenly clumsy hands–and from the little pedestal she stood on, Regina could see that Ruby, though better at masking it, seemed charmed.

From that point, she tried to work the subject of Ruby Lucas into conversations when it fit–and each and every time the dressmaker's granddaughter, Belle's eyes would cast down and her lip would catch between her teeth and she turn away so that Regina couldn't see her flushing cheeks–and whenever Regina would mention needing a hem fixed or that she was considering having one of her dresses altered, Belle was always quick to offer taking whatever garment in to Granny Lucas's shop.

In some ways, it was harmless fun. In her younger, freer days, she loved to set up her friends–pointing out when they'd caught the eye of young gentleman at a party and daring them to be so bold as to ask for a dance, then giggling about stolen kisses and roaming hands. It'd never been anything serious, but she missed those moments–she missed having friends, and though Belle was someone paid to keep her company and tend to her needs, sometimes it was easy enough to forget that and pretend otherwise. And in other ways, she supposed she'd always have a romantic heart that rooted for the underdogs–those seemingly mismatched or those kept apart due to circumstance or to prevent a scandal–and though it didn't always work out, though odds were against them, when it did work out, it seemed all the sweeter.

"He loves that dragon," Regina says, looking over to Robin as the carriage turns off the wooded path toward the little stretch of town. "He can't be without it."

Robin grins as his eyes shift to Henry. "I'm glad. Perhaps I'll have to carve him out a little friend, or maybe a knight to battle."

"Perhaps," Regina agrees, returning his grin. "And what will the three of you be up to while I'm at the dressmaker?"

"Well," Robin beings, as his voice drops an octave, so that the boys can't quite hear him. "Last time we were here, I couldn't quite help notice the bakery window was filled with all sorts of cakes and pies and other sweets."

"You'll ruin their appetites for lunch."

"Who's to say that wouldn't be lunch?"

Regina's eyes roll. "We should feed them something sensible… like the lunch that the kitchen staff prepared."

"Bread and cheese and mashed up egg hardly sounds appetizing… for any of us." He laughs a little as his eyes narrow at her. "And you're not the only one who gets to spoil them a bit."

Her eyebrows arch. "I'm sorry?"

"Don't think I haven't seen you sneaking ginger snaps when you go up to tuck them in."

Taking a breath, her shoulder stiffen with indignation. "That's hardly the same."

Robin only smirks in reply as their carriage rounds the corner and pulls in front of Granny Lucas's shop, and with a long sigh and a glare in Robin's direction, Regina gathers her skirt and hops down onto the cobblestone path. Belle joins her and a grin twists onto her lips as Robin offers her a wink as the carriage pulls away and she hopes that when they meet for lunch in a handful of hours, she won't be greeted by two rambunctious little boys, high on sugar.

"Shall we, m'lady?" Belle asks–and a grin tugs onto Regina's and she nods, excitement flickering at her core.

For the next couple of hours, Regina stands on stool in front of a mirror. Ruby goes over each measurement of the dress she'd ordered only days before. And for each detail, Regina makes it a point to ask Belle's opinion and she watches the way Ruby's eyes shift to her and a soft smile draws onto her lips as the maid responds. Together, they decide on dropping the neckline into more of a scoop and they add the same white piping to it and a few white buttons. To the sash, they add in some French blue glass beads and on the dress and instead of having the sleeves end just before her shoulders, they extend them to her elbow, trimming them in same ribbon as the sash. Of course, none of the alterations were necessary and she'd been happy with the dress as it was–but there was something thrilling about the rest of it, that made the visit worthwhile.

"You'll be stunning in it, m'lady," Belle says as she watches Ruby add the finishing details to the sketch. "It's hard to believe such a lovely dress starts as… just those spools of fabric. I can't imagine all the work that goes into…" She stops suddenly and her cheeks flush, and Regina grins as her eyes fall to the sketch. "It takes such talent."

"Oh, I don't know about that. I've been helping Granny since I was eight. It's more just… learning the patterns and…"

"Nonsense," Regina cuts in. "Not anyone could do it, and not everyone who does it does it well." She watches as Ruby smiles and she can't help but notice the way her eyes quickly shift to Belle. "This shop is a hidden treasure. Everyone else foolishly goes miles and miles away."

"That's kind of you to say."

Smiling, she nods and steps down from the stool. "Do you think it'll be ready in time for the church bazaar?"

"I think it's very possible," Ruby nods as her eyes shift back to Regina. "We don't have many orders, and it can go to the top of the list."

Taking a breath, Regina looks between Ruby and Belle. "You know, Mr. Locksley and I were planning a picnic with Roland and Henry in the park, and we were thinking that, perhaps, you'd like the afternoon off."

"Oh," Belle murmurs as a smile slowly edges onto her lips. "I would, I just don't know what I'd do to entertain myself for an entire afternoon."

Regina grins as Ruby's eyes widen and she shift awkwardly on her feet. "Well, if you don't have anything else to do," she begins. "I could… show you some of the patterns and how spools of fabric turn into dressed and… maybe we could have tea?"

"That would be… nice," Belle says as her cheeks flush.

"Then it's settled," Regina says quickly as she smooths her hands down over her skirt. "We'd like to be back at Sherwood by dinner–or–" she chuckles softly and shakes her head, "Well, no. I don't think we'd like to be back, but we should be. So, we'll meet you back here and we'll all ride back together."

"Yes, m'lady," Belle murmurs as her lip catches between her teeth as she looks shyly to Ruby. "That would be wonderful."

With that, she nods her head to them both and heads out of the shop, heading in the direction of the park. She can't help but laugh to herself as she walks–thinking of the way Belle and Ruby had looked at each other, and then thinking of the way Robin had looked at her as he'd teased her about the gingersnaps.

When she turns toward the park, she can see Robin just beyond a bed of flowers, stretched out and laying on his side on a blanket. There's a basket at his feet and the boys are both lying on their backs, looking upward at trees, or maybe at the sky. She can see that Robin is talking to them and her chest tightens as she comes close enough to hear them laughing–and she almost doesn't want to interrupt.

Robin waves her over and she gathers up her skirt as she joins them on the blankets. Robin helps her to settle as her eyes shift to the basket the cook prepared for them that morning.

"So," she begins, clearing her throat. "What did you end up deciding on for this little picnic luncheon?"

A grin drawns onto Robin's lips. "Well, we did stop in a the baker's…"

"But we only got butter cookies," Roland tells her, very seriously. "We just looked at the cakes."

"And lemon tarts for us," Robin tells. "We made a little adventure out of it, a sort of scavenger hunt." Her brow arches as she looks between them all. "From the baker, we headed over the the general store, but we didn't find anything there…"

"I wouldn't imagine so," Regina murmurs. "Well, nothing you wouldn't have to cook yourself."

"Precisely, and…I'm useless in that regard as you know." She laughs a little remembering how he'd looked so helpless when she'd asked him to mash the potatoes, and she remembers the little tingle that ran up her spine as her hands formed over his, as she showed him how to use the masher. "So, we headed to the pub…"

"You took our children to a public house."

"Only for a bit."

"We got lemonades!" Henry tells her. "It was sour and sweet…"

"And good," Roland adds.

"And while they were sipping lemonade, the barkeep made us all some sandwiches."

"No egg mash?"

Robin shakes his head as he opens the basket's latch. "Hard-boiled slices, instead," he tells her as he pulls two parchment-wrapped sandwiches from it. "Ham, egg and cheese for the boys," he says slowly, waiting for each boy to claim his sandwich. "And… roast beef and egg for us," he tells her, reaching in again and retrieving two more sandwiches. "There's a little cup of horseradish, if you'd prefer it with a little zing."

"I would," she murmurs as she takes the wrapped sandwich, letting a grin easy tug onto her lips as he fishes out the sauce. "Thank you."

Robin nods as he unwraps his sandwich and slathers it in the remaining sauce. "So, tell me," he says, as he takes a bite. "How was the fitting? Everything you hoped?"

She nods, her grin brightening as she thinks of Ruby and Belle having tea. "Better than I'd hoped."

"Oh?"

"I, um… think I might have just set up my dressmaker with an admirer."

Robin blinks. "You found Granny Lucas a beau?"

"No," she replies as she bites off a little of the crusty part of the bread. "Not Granny, Ruby. And… not a beau." Robin's head tips to the side. "I think she and Belle might have… a little thing for one another." Robin's brows arch and for a moment, he stops chewing. "You… disapprove."

"No, I just… I wouldn't have considered it."

"I know it's not exactly the most conventional of matches, but…" A grin tugs onto her lips as she thinks of Belle's flushed cheeks as Ruby's eyes caught hers. "They're sweet together."

"Ah… and you came to this conclusion… how?"

Her shoulders shrug and her jaw tightens, and she feels herself growing defensive. "The way anyone would about any potential pair, I suppose."

For a moment, he doesn't say anything–and then, he smiles. "You're really something, you know that?" He laughs as he takes another bite of his sandwich and eases back onto his elbows.

"So, you're… fine with it?" She asks, not quite ready to let her guard down. "I mean, I think it's harmless, but should any of it get out, I'm sure it'd be quite the scandal."

"I've never been one to care much about rumors or scandals, and I think everyone cares far too much about the intimate details of everyone else's life. If you're happy, you're happy and that should be the end of it. There's no need to scrutinize why or look for reasons to gossip." He grins a little. "So, if your maid and dressmaker enjoy the other's company, then who am I to stop it?" Nodding, she feels her shoulders relax and she takes a bigger bite of the sandwich. "And truth be told, I'm not really interested in who your maid is smitten with. I'm far more interested in… other things."

"Such as?"

"I sent an inquiry to the hunting lodge up north," he tells her. "They'll be ready for us a week after the bazaar."

"That's soon," she murmurs, a smile edging onto her lips at the prospect of getting away from Sherwood for awhile and having the chance to just be. "I almost wish we didn't have to wait."

"Well, we didn't have to, I just figured we'd give them some time to stock up the kitchen and make up the rooms. I'm having some things sent up for the boys ahead of time to make travelling up easier, and if you've not objections, I was thinking we'd take a wagonway."

"I've never traveled by one," she says with a shrug of her shoulders. "So, I've nothing to object to."

"They're small, but quicker," he tells her easily. "So, if you have things you think you'll want to have at the hunting lodge, I can send them along beforehand."

"I'll think it over," she murmurs in reply, her stomach fluttering as she takes another bite of the sandwich. "How long do you think we'll be there?"

"A week, maybe?" He tells her. "And if we like it, perhaps, we'll go longer the next time."

She nods. "The next time…that already sounds wonderful."

"I thought," he tells her, chuckling softly. "It'd be nice to have a little getaway that was just ours."

"Agreed…" For a moment, her eyes slide to the boys, watching as they lay on their stomachs and eat their sandwiches, kicking their feet back and forth as they look up at the trees, watching as a squirrel with full and puffy cheeks runs back and forth along a branch, looking completely conflicted. She hears Roland giggle a little as he nudges Henry's arm and points to it and whispers something she can't quite hear. Henry laughs, too, and both seem completely and happily distracted. "You know," she says, taking a breath as her eyes shift back to Robin–and then she laughs, noticing a smudge of horseradish at the corner of her mouth. "You're making a mess of yourself."

"What?" He asks, roughly rubbing his head over his mouth, somehow missing the horseradish completely. "Did I get it?"

"No," she laughs. "I don't suppose there are any napkins packed in that picnic basket?"

"No," he murmurs. "Somehow, it seems they were forgotten."

"Well, we'll just have to make-do, then," she says, sitting up and leaning toward him, reaching out and pushing two of her fingers against his lip, wiping away the spot of horseradish. Her stomach flutters as Robin's eyes drop to her fingers and her breath catches in her chest when his fingers fold around her wrist. Letting her eyes meet hers, she sees that he's smiling coyly at her and she feels a little tingle run down her spine as he draws her hand to his lips, sucking the the excess horseradish from her fingers before kissing the back of her hand and releasing her.

"So, um… what was it that you were saying?" He asks, tipping his head to the side and smiling smugly, completely aware of the effect he's had on her as her cheeks flush. "You were about to say something."

"Hm?"

"Before you noticed the horseradish, you seemed like you were going to tell me something."

"Was I?" She asks, swallowing hard as her cheeks flush a little. "I don't remember."

"Ah…" He murmurs, grinning as he takes another bite of the sandwich. "Perhaps it was about the needlepoint your mother signed you up to make for the bazaar's auction?"

At that, she groans and her shoulders relax. "I wish I didn't remember that ."

"You could do something simple… like a tree or a flower or…"

"No matter what I do, it'll be an excellent example of what not to do," she cuts in with a sigh. "She knows I hate needlepoint. My X's never come out the same size and whatever I make, it always comes out crooked and…" Robin laughs and her voice trails off, and once again, she feels her stomach fluttering. "It'll be such a disappointment."

"I highly doubt that."

"You want to bet on it?" She asks, her brow arching. "Because I am sure I'd win."

"Let's," he says, pulling himself up. "Let's bet on it."

"Alright," she agrees confidently. "We will. If my needlepoint sells, then…"

"Then you make me dinner," he's quick to say. "At the hunting lodge." Her widen a bit as he laughs. "And for the sake of argument, if you win–which you won't–what do you want from me?"

"Oh," she breathes out, her mind suddenly blank. "I… don't know." She sighs and her chest flutters. "I don't know what I'd want. Can I think about it?"

He nods. "Don't think on it too long," he tells her, a chuckle rising into his voice. "Because you're going to lose this one and I'd hate for you to waste your time." Her eyes roll and she sighs, feigning annoyance at his bravado, and, in spite of herself, she can't help the little smile that creeps onto her lips as she thinks of how she already has more with him than she ever could have dared to want a year before.