Petals

six

Geoffrey Barclay, the round and ruddy Earl of Kendrick, laughed amiably and patted Adrian on the shoulder. "You see, my dear," he addressed his wife, "what courting has come to? Calligraphy! It has come to calligraphy! Of all the things in the world!" He roared with laughter as Adrian smiled sheepishly, assuring himself the slight humiliation would be worth discovering the Lady's identity.

When the Earl's laughter had subsided, he patted Adrian's shoulder again and pointed across the ballroom. "My eldest," he informed Adrian. "Lorraine. I believe you've met her. She was the one who wrote out the invitations."

Adrian's gaze followed the Earl's finger to the slim young girl standing next to the French doors. Her hair would be classified as blonde by most, but there were darker streaks in it that leaned towards brown and that could explain the strands Adrian had found in caught amidst the cyclamen.

"I see. Thank you, my lord. If you'll excuse me..."

Kendrick laughed again and waved Adrian off. He weaved his way through the crowd, eyes focused on Lorraine. He'd met her on a few occasions before, but had never really talked to her. She was attractive enough, he admitted, but somehow fell short of his expectations of the Lady. Something in the way she moved didn't bear the grace he had anticipated and her smile didn't have any of the shyness or subtlety displayed by that first bouquet. Still, her writing matched that of the Lady's, so he pressed on.

"My lady, may I have this dance?"

Lorraine looked up in surprise. Her mouth worked open and closed, before she finally nodded. Adrian tried to find the action inspiring, or even endearing, but found himself failing miserably. He watched her face closely as they danced, looking for some indication that she was indeed the Lady, but he could find none. There was no fear or guilt or intrigued arc of the eye. Nothing. But she had to be the Lady - didn't she?

Across the ballroom, Annabelle was being torn apart between jealousy for her best friend and sadness that Adrian appeared to be moving on. She and Lorraine had grown up together, as Lorraine's mother - the Earl's first wife - had been a close friend of Annabelle's mother, and after the Countess had died, Kendrick had sought comfort in travel, leaving his daughter in the care of the Athmore household. They had grown up under the same nanny and governess, and even after the Earl had returned and remarried, had attended the same schools. As children, they had even schooled their writing to look exactly the same so as to play tricks on their governess.

Now, Annabelle watched as Adrian led Lorraine out onto the terrace, not sure whether to cry or scream. Of course, neither option was suitable in her current location. Oh, but she couldn't bear the thought of them being together, much as she wanted them both to be happy. In that, they wouldn't even be happy together; she was sure of it. For all that she could look like an angel at will, Lorraine was a hellion at heart, bent on mischief and exploring what she had long ago dubbed 'the male world.' Adrian would never stand for a wife who snuck out at night to see cockfights and taverns and Heaven only knew what else. And, what's more, Lorraine would never stand for a husband who didn't let her do as she wished. They'd kill each other!

"Anna!" Melanie gushed, suddenly appearing at her sister's elbow. Annabelle almost thought she heard relief in the elder Bradford's voice. "Come, you simply must dance with Joseph! He's such a wonder on the dance floor." Both Annabelle and Joseph opened their mouths to protest, but Melanie was gone before either could speak, latched onto the arm of some other gallant more to her preference.

Annabelle restrained a sigh as she accepted Joseph's rather reluctantly proffered hand. She kept her eyes on the French doors as much as she could, wondering constantly what on Earth was taking Adrian and Lorraine so long.