Her father had a room like this, once upon a time, and it had been one of her favorites. Not a receiving room, but where you did the actual work. Where you oversaw what needed to be of your duties. Something of her thoughts and mingled memories makes her smile fond, as she looks around.

Respectful, hands folded together in front of her, never getting closer than a few feet from anything in the room just quite yet. She recognize one the children, but her eyes rested on the other painting longer.

Considering it breath longer, before asking. "Your husband?"