First Impressions // A Bridgerton Story

Chapter 7

"       Men are contrary creatures. Their heads and their hearts are never in agreement.

And as women know all too well, their actions are usually governed by a different aspect altogether.      "

LADY WHISTLEDOWN'S SOCIETY PAPERS, 30 APRIL 1814

The next day, Amelia could hardly contain her excitement. She would be introducing Ferdinand to the High English Society just this afternoon, at the royal races. She was certain he would like them. And Amelia also wished for a reprieve from all her suitors, who constantly came to her door, and then she was forced to entertain them.

Most of the time she elected to play the piano, so they would not speak and she could practice. Or she would play chess. Or she would ask him to recite poetry while she looked out of the window.

It didn't help that, that exact morning of the races, a large bouquet of flowers; red roses, had arrived for her, the card reading, "With my wishes to see you this afternoon at the Royal Races. Last night was dull indeed without your shining presence, Princess. - Viscount Bridgerton."

As if Amelia needed him to sign it. Only he would get her red roses. They were not popular, and they were certainly not what a suitor gets for the suited. Geraniums or even tulips were the usual. She had a room full of them. But roses? And not any roses, red roses.

Queen Charlotte had looked at the note and said, "so poetic". She sighed, "so obviously the words of a man truly smitten". But Amelia knew the truth.

The note was more of an insult toward her than it was a compliment. Dull indeed, she fumed, eyeing that note, enshrined now on a table in the sitting room, and wondering how she might make it look an accident if it somehow found itself torn into pieces.

She might not know very much about matters of the heart and the affairs of men and women, but she'd bet her life that whatever the Viscount had been feeling for her, it had not been boredom.

He hadn't, however, come to call.

Amelia couldn't imagine why, since taking her out for a walk or ride would be an even bigger slap in the face than the note had been. In her most fanciful moments, she liked to flatter herself that he hadn't stopped by because he was afraid to face her, but she knew that was patently untrue. That man wasn't afraid of anyone. Least of all, her. She was a challenge to him.

"Your Grace?", the Butler appeared in the doorway to her drawing room. Amelia was brought back to reality, almost violently.

She had forgotten she was in the drawing room at all. She had even forgotten that her mother, the Queen, was in the room also. But she was reading the new Lady Whistledown, so it was not much of a surprise that she was so quiet.

Amelia herself did not need to read the gossip columns, her mother would tell her everything worth knowing anyway.

"Yes?", Queen Charlotte answered only after a moment, when she ripped herself away from her reading with great displeasure.

"His Grace, King Ferdinand is here", the Butler informed them gently. "He is to escort Princess Amelia to the royal races?".

Amelia straightened her skirts self-consciously. She had decided to wear yellow to pay her respect to Spain. It was a color that symbolize generosity, hope, and renewal. It was also one of the royal colors there. And red was far too vulgar to wear in public, especially for the royal races. She just hoped Ferdinand liked it.

"Very good", Queen Charlotte said. She put away her gossip column. "Lead him in and prepare the carriages".

"Carriages, mama?", Amelia repeated.