At the breakfast table, I take a dainty bite from an apple. My lady strides past the door with a letter in hand and proceeds to take it directly to my room as I asked her to, rather than involving everyone with it. If my mother knew how many letters I was receiving, she would surely be suspicious since I have never once received a letter before this season. "Peaches, we must speak of your callers. Have you secured any proposals as of yet?" Even as she asks me, it is apparent to anyone with either eyes or ears that she does not care. She has never cared for me me nor pen, only my two eldest sisters. This often shocked me since I did believe myself to be the most well rounded and well adjusted of the four of us, and Pen to be the smartest. Philipa and Prudence would win awards only for being the most ignorant, unobservant, irritating and irate lady of the ton. If it was not clear already, I had very little respect or love for my eldest sisters, and did not care if they were here nor there.
"I have secured a proposal from Mr Finch." Prudence squeaks. Or perhaps it was Philipa. I do not look up and so I cannot be sure, but I know that she is smug and she is proud. "And what of you, Peaches?"
"I do believe I shall have a proposal by the end of the season, mother. It is nothing for you to concern yourself with, I have it under control."
"No, no, no, no!" Suddenly, my father slams his hands down onto the table, causing all of the cutlery to shake and a knife or two landing on the floor with a clatter. None of us quite know what to say or do, and so the room is filled with an uncomfortable and awkward silence that no one is so eager to address. My mother opens her mouth to speak but my father is quick to silence her. "Prudence, you shall not marry Mr Finch. He does not provide enough money nor status and I shall not marry one of my daughters to a man who is no more than a pauper!" This first outburst causes prudence to break out into a sob, and she races up the stairs with her head in her hands. "And as for you, Peaches. You have always been a disobedient wretch and your mother has allowed you to get any with murder. Well, no longer. You shall tell us who has been courting you, and you shall begin to ask them for a proposal."
I watch my father and unlike the rest of my family, I do not feel too upset by his little tantrum. "I shall speak of my proposal when I have been proposed to. Until then, I do not see any reason or need to share it with you." This is not because I am ashamed or embarrassed or that I do not want to marry him, of course, it is because I am sure of the reaction I shall gain when I tell them it is Benedict Bridgerton. I am sure they shall laugh and they shall scoff and they shall tell me that I am delusional, but I know I am not. I just do not wish to endure the commotion such news would bring. "Now, if you shall excuse me. I wish to bathe before we leave the house." I push to my feet, ignoring both my mother and father as they begin to shout and probe me even further, only proving to me that I should not tell them a word.
I return to my room, and I open my letter.
Dearest Peaches,
Is it not funny? I also was incredibly busy last night, and the night before, and the night before, and so would not have found myself able to reply until this morning either. I do wonder whether our activities were the same, what a coincidence that should be.
I do not know why I write you back when I shall see you only tonight. Perhaps I can think of nothing worse than spending another day away from you.
Yours, BBBB
I smile as I always do when I read his letters before I tuck it safely away under my pillow. There are better hiding places, I am sure, but I do not think I should need such hiding places. I do not think that anyone is looking for such letters, and the only person to discover them under my pillow should be my lady since she is the only one who should turn my bed. I dress, and I meet my sisters for the arrival at the widows ball. I had heard that it would be eccentric and impressive, raunchy and a little controversial, or so Penelope told me that was what lady whistledown had deemed the widows usual style as. As I arrived, I suppose that I could see why.
The ball is still a bore, despite it's original decorations. All I can think of is the night that I had last night, which is worsened when I dance with him, when I know that he feels the same. "I cannot stop thinking about you, Peaches. Will you be at the Granville home again tonight?" His mouth is close against my neck again, making me shiver and groan, so much so that I have to disguise it into a cough. "I take that as a yes."
"I shall be, I have every intention to be, my lord." I tighten my grip slightly on his shoulders. "I have a rather devilish plan so that we might not need wait until tonight, what would you think of that?"
"I should like to hear it. In fact, since I am a second born and you are a fourth, I demand to see it. I hold the upmost authority over you." He grins, spinning me around to the music. "Do tell."
"I shall feign illness, excuse myself to the gardens. You need only find reason to join me. The widows garden has a large maze, I remember it from being an infant. If we find the middle, we should be quite impossible to find by anyone else, do you not think?"
"I think it sounds fool proof."