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Chapter 2
“I think I shall setup a florist shop right here,” Alex said to Louisa when he entered the main drawing room and saw the numerous flower arrangements and bouquets displayed there. “Every variety of bloom in every conceivable color is in this room. I could make a fortune, and there would still be enough flowers left over that no one would be the wiser.”
What Alex was jokingly implying was very nearly true, Louisa conceded. The number of bouquets she’d received in the days following the Wilmington ball had gone beyond her wildest expectations. She understood now what people meant when they spoke of an embarrassment of riches.
“They’re certainly lovely to look at, and the scent in the room is heavenly,” Mama said as she sketched one of the arrangements of roses to use as a needlework pattern. “These yellow roses are particularly stunning. Who are they from, Louisa?”
“I’m not sure.” She opened the card accompanying them. “Oh dear,” she muttered softly. In a louder voice, she said, “They’re from the Baron Moseby, Mama.” She still felt a bit guilty about the way Lord Kerridge had dealt with the poor man at the ball—but really, the baron should have gotten the hint before then, especially when one considered that he was more than triple her age.
“That old goat!” Alex exclaimed.
“Who’s an old goat?” Anthony, who had walked into the drawing room right at that moment, asked.
“Moseby.” Alex waved his hand in the direction of the yellow roses. “Thinks he’s one of Louisa’s suitors.”
Anthony snorted. “Didn’t he try to woo you once, Mama?”
“While it is true I knew him in my debutante days,” she said, “he did not try to woo me. He was married to his second wife at the time. I’m sure he is not nearly so bad as his reputation would suggest—”
“He most certainly is, Mama,” Alex said, cutting her off. “There was this one time I happened to see him near Drury Lane with a certain—”
Mama silenced him with a gesture. “He has only ever been gracious to me, Halford,” she said. “So have a care, if you please.”
Anthony’s and Alex’s eyebrows rose, and Louisa threw her hand over her mouth to stifle a giggle. Mama rarely used Alex’s title when the family was alone, and Louisa wasn’t so naive as to misunderstand her reason for using it this time.
“Certainly, Mama,” Alex said, bowing deeply to her, making her chuckle in response. Alex was such a charming scoundrel; he got away with all sorts of things all the time. His charm worked this time too. “In future, only the most sugary words shall escape my lips when referring to the Baron Moseby.”
“Unless he tries to court our sister in earnest,” Anthony said. “In which case, I shall very sweetly challenge him to swords or pistols.”
“Precisely, brother dear. And I shall sweetly agree to be your second,” Alex said.
“Good heavens! As bad as all that?” Mama asked, aghast.
“At the very least,” Anthony assured her.
“Perhaps I shall sketch the orchid by the window instead,” she said, flipping the page of her sketchbook. “Louisa, I give you permission to decline any offers of courtship from the Baron Moseby.”
“Thank you, Mama,” Louisa said, still attempting to hold back a giggle.
“Ahem.” Gibbs cleared his throat discreetly to gain their attention. “Excuse the interruption, but the Earl of Kerridge is here to see you, Lady Louisa. I put him in the blue sitting room.” He handed Louisa the earl’s calling card.
Louisa’s humor vanished, and her heart began to flutter. “Please invite the earl to join us here,” she instructed Gibbs.
Alex whistled through his teeth once the butler departed the room. “What a coup. Aylesham’s heir, no less. Who would have thought it of our baby sister?”
“I wouldn’t have,” Anthony said. “At least it isn’t Moseby though, thank goodness. You certainly picked the highest plum from the aristocratic tree, Weezy. Is this overwhelming array of horticultural perfection his doing, then?”
Louisa could feel her cheeks heat up—drat her tendency to blush easily. “Don’t call me Weezy. I’m not five years old anymore. And to answer your question, some of the blooms are from him but not all, or even a majority of them.” There were two arrangements from the earl that she knew of: the large urn of red roses that had required two footmen to carry into the drawing room and the rare orchid her mother was now sketching near the window.
She dashed over to the gilt mirror hanging on the wall and patted a loose curl back into place. Her cheeks were too pink, but there was nothing she could do about that.
“It goes without saying that I expect the two of you to be on your best behavior for your sister’s sake,” Mama said. “You look fine, Louisa. Sit down.” She set her sketchbook aside.
Louisa dutifully perched on the corner of the sofa.
“If it goes without saying, Mama, then you needn’t have bothered saying it,” Alex replied. “Ah, Kerridge, here you are. Welcome.”
The Earl of Kerridge bowed over Mama’s hand and then moved across the room to bow over Louisa’s. He was a handsome man, Louisa thought—tall and slender, with a thick shock of hair the color of mahogany. He had taken her driving in Hyde Park twice since the night of the Wilmington ball.
