It was probably a hopeless scolding, as once her sisters got on to a subject, they would examine it backward and forward.
Fortunately, Charlie took that moment to come into the drawing room, almost disappeared behind two large flower arrangements.
“What have we here?” the duke asked. “The two fish on a hook both having the same idea?”
Grace did not know who had sent the flowers, she only hoped one was from Lord Dashlend. She did not much care who the other arrangement was from.
Charlie set them down and went to look for two suitable vases. Grace and her sisters gathered round them. There was an arrangement of yellow daisies, and an arrangement of pink roses. Naturally, she put her hopes on roses from Lord Dashlend.
“Open the note with the daisies first, Grace,” Patience said. “Save the best for last.”
“I ought to read the notes first,” the duke said, “but I can well guess where the land lies so go ahead. Daisies first.”
Grace fumbled with the folded note tucked into the array of daisies.
To new friendship—Dashlend
“New friendship?” Winsome said. “What does that mean? What does he want a friend for?”
Grace had not the first idea. It seemed a rather… limp… message to send along with flowers. Though, it matched the daisies meaning. She had hoped Lord Dashlend might feel more than friendship.
The duke laughed heartily. “He takes the slow and cautious road, I see. And let me guess, Montclave has sent the roses. That fellow throws his hat in the ring and caution to the wind.”
Grace sighed. “I think I do not care for over-caution, Papa.”
“Now, don’t let it bring you down. Dashlend is a sensible man, and that is not altogether a bad thing. He’ll prove to have a care for a wife’s wellbeing. Let him work his way up to roses over time. I suspect he’s dipping his toe in the water to get an idea of how you view it.”
“Oh, I hadn’t thought… well, that is different, then,” Grace said, much cheered by the idea. She could simply express her enthusiasm for the daisies, thereby hinting he ought to take a step further. A step further with all haste, if she could subtly communicate such a thing.
Yes, of course that must be right. Lord Dashlend was a real man, not some sort of overwrought hero from one of her novels. Surely it was right that he take things step by step. It would have been foolish to do otherwise, and Lord Dashlend was not foolish.
“All right,” the duke said, “let us see what ridiculous thing Montclave has written with those roses. Certainly it must be from him. He shoots too high and too fast, but I think that is the sort of fellow he is—a foolhardy Icarus about to melt his wings.”
“You do not like him at all, Papa,” Valor said, wrestling Mrs. Wendover out of Nelson’s mouth.
“Not particularly.”
Grace could not care less what Lord Montclave had written, but she supposed she’d better find it out. She unfolded the note tucked into the pink roses.
Lady Lavender—the most graceful lady in London. I allow the flowers to speak for themselves. Dashlend.
Grace dropped the note as if it were on fire. “I do not understand this,” she murmured.
“What does he say?” the duke asked. “Has he foolishly professed his undying love?”
Valor laughed. “Thatwouldbe foolish—none of us even like him very much.”
“No,” Grace said slowly, examining both the note and the address, “the arrangement is addressed to me, but the note itself is addressed to…”
She could hardly bear to say it.
“To who, Grace? Certainly not to one of us, unless he’s been so deranged as to send Papa flowers,” Patience said.
“It is addressed to Lady Lavender,” Grace said, perceiving what must have happened. The florist received two orders, and in his haste sent them both to the same address. “The note says Lord Dashlend views Lady Lavender as the most graceful lady in London. He allows the flowers to speak for themselves.”
“Lord Dashlend?” Winsome exclaimed. “Why should Lord Dashlend send flowers here that are supposed to go to somebody else?”
“And why should he send flowers to somebody else?” Winsome asked. “Pink roses, too.”
