Chapter One
It was time.
Violet Sharpe buried her nose in a rose, allowing the sweetness to fill her whole body, as though she could inhale the entire flower if she tried hard enough. She withdrew to snip the stem at an angle, placed the rose among an arrangement of other flowers, and stepped back to survey her creation.
Perfect.
“Entirely too perfect,” her friend, Holly Tremont, Marchioness of Warton, declared, leaning opposite her against the shop counter. “If I were a flower, I should feel terribly plain standing beside one of your creations.”
“Well then, don’t stand next to one.”
Holly gave a dramatic sigh before her features turned serious. “Are you sure you will be all right without us? Pippa and I can stay a little bit longer if you need.”
Violet shook her head. “You have a life in London. Don’t let me hold you back.”
“We don’t mind Brighton, though,” Holly murmured. “I speak for Pippa as well.”
In fact, Violet wasn’t sure. It would be the first time in her life that she was alone. But her friends had already done so much for her. They helped her escape the nightmare that was her brother, Reginald Thickett Graves, the Earl of Barrowmere,and an equally nightmarish fiancé, Percival Horace, the Earl of Bramblewick, set up shop here under a new name, and even helped secure a plot just outside Brighton, where she could grow her plants as well as transform her small courtyard out back into a little greenhouse for some of her more delicate flowers.
She couldn’t have asked for more.
Hershop.
The Bloom Room.
It still didn’t feel entirely real.
Though the store was more for all botanicals than just flowers, she still loved the name. She loved everything about the shop.
The space wasn’t all that big. Well, big in comparison to some of the London shops, yet this humble little spot managed to feel like stepping into another world. Clay pots lined the shelves and every corner of the shop, all in different sizes, each brimming with something green or something new blooming. The counter divided the space, its surface scattered with stems, scissors, and scraps of ribbon. If there was any available space, her flower arrangements filled it. She even had several wicker baskets woven for the shop’s deliveries. Sunlight filtered through the bow window at the front, dusting the shop with soft, wandering hues of light. Nothing to be considered grand, but it washers. A place of vibrant chaos to fit into the noise of Brighton’s Lanes, and ironically, a little pocket of wild peacefulness where charm was both her trade and her refuge.
The exact opposite of the hopeless torment she’d left behind. And today, her friends, who’d been at her side since escaping London, were leaving.
“Are you worried about your brother?” Holly suddenly asked.
Violet hesitated, then shook her head. She didn’t want her friends to worry. “With Angelica manning the shop and our delivery hands, I won’t be receiving customers, so I’m notworried.” She’d chosen Brighton because she loved the ocean, but her brother didn’t know this. Like with many things, her desires didn’t matter. Besides, he rarely ever left London, and when he reluctantly did, it was no further than their country estate in Hertfordshire.
“Good,” Holly said. “Just send for us if you’re having any trouble in the future, or if you just miss us.” Her friend winked at her.
Violet nodded, smiling.
The door to her shop opened, and Pippa Avery, the Countess of Chatteris and another good friend, entered.
“You’re ready?” Violet asked, abandoning her arrangement to step up to her friends.
Pippa nodded.
Outside, their husbands were waiting, tipping their hats when she looked over. She gave a little wave. They’d already had a farewell dinner last night, and she didn’t want to keep her friends from their trip too much longer. She gave Holly a tight hug first, before hugging Pippa.
“I’m going to miss you,” Violet told them, attempting a brave face. Honestly, she probably wouldn’t get any sleep tonight. Since her move, her whole world had taken on the odd reality of a dream. She could no longer remain a spectator of her own life.
The time for drifting had ended.
“We’ll be visiting all the time,” Pippa said softly.
Holly nodded.
She smiled at her friends. Violet hoped she could make ones as good here in Brighton, friendships that could overshadow her brother’s past cruelty and her fiancé’s bloodcurdling looks. He had looked at her as though she were already a possession, something won and waiting to be used.
