Lydia was sitting in the reading room, rather unsuccessfully attempting to read a novel she’d bought in the market. The reason she was being somewhat unsuccessful at it was standing in front of her, trying to draw her attention away from the frivolous book by talking, of all things, about suitors. As the only daughter of House Penrose, she supposed most houses would have considered it her duty to start looking into marrying, and it wasn’t as though she was ill-favored. She had her share of admirers, perhaps more than she thought, but certainly more than she had any interest in.
“It is high time you get married, Lydia! Father and mother have let you be long enough with your silly novels and your little bastard friend from House Tarth-“
Lydia huffed a great sigh and closed her book, standing up abruptly, but only giving her brother a passing glare. “Does Phillippa know you refer to her cousin as ‘Lydia’s little bastard friend from House Tarth?'” She snapped in annoyance. “Honestly, Collin, mother and father and Bastion don’t care, why do you?”
He frowned at her as she began walking towards the door. “Where are you going?”
“To my room.” She answered back in a calm, if somewhat rankled tone. “A certain someone is not letting me concentrate on this nice book from Essos. It wasn’t cheap, you know.”
“I’m worried about you, Lydia!” He called after her, though he didn’t bother to chase after her. “I don’t want to see you die alone in Bastion’s house, and it isn’t fit behavior for a girl of your standing to spend all her time reading that nonsense you get from the marketplaces!”
“I don’t rightly care.” She retorted. “I shall be very happy to end up an old maid, and there really isn’t much you can do to stop me.” And with that, she closed the door behind her and headed to her room.