"Brother, can you give me a hand?" asked Colin Bridgerton who was trying to balance an enormous bouquet of red roses, a gift box and most importantly a plate of cookies in his hands. "Would you fill out the card for me? Your penmanship is neater and you already have a quill in your hand."
"I don't mind if I do, as long as you are out courting ladies I am free of your presence," Colin threw a barely perceptible grimace at him over the roses.
"Who is the lucky lady?"
"Write please: to Miss Granville, with undying love, Yours, Colin Bridgerton."
"Colin," Benedict queried with his typical half-scolding, half-interested intonation which he specifically reserved for his younger siblings. "Why exactly are you sending a bouquet of red roses to... Miss Granville?" he raised a curious eyebrow at him.
"Why should I not be sending a beautiful bouquet to a beautiful lady I am currently courting, Benedict? Do you need me to explain how courting works?" he teased his brother in an impudent tone.
"That will not be necessary, thank you. Though I am sure a bouquet of roses is the last thing Miss Granville would like to receive."
"Perhaps you would like to send the roses yourself, Benedict?" he suggested with a cheeky grin.
"No, and if I were to send flowers, surely they would not be roses for they are very conventional."
"Is that so?" Colin's eyebrows rose and a mischievous smile spread on his face. "I didn't know that you happened to be an expert on flowers, dearest brother. Or perhaps you are an expert on Miss Granville?"
Benedict made a face that only an older brother having enough of a younger sibling can, and threw a pillow at him, which Colin, unfortunately, managed to evade.
✦
Franny was in one of her moods; she called it artistic, Mrs. Granville called it rude, and Mr. Granville simply tried to avoid it. Standing in front of the easel, furiously splashing paint all over it as if her life depended on it, Franny was so immersed in painting (if one could call it that) that no one dared to speak a word to her. They have learnt not to as her most acerbic insults were usually given in this state. On most days, painting took her mind off things and offered relief from overthinking everything under the sun, but sometimes when thoughts were frantically running in her head, she let her body take over and poured her frustration out on the canvas.
She did wake up on the wrong side of the bed and slept very little because of having constantly replayed last night's conversation with Benedict over and over, and also because Lord Archibald Tewksbury, the most serious name Franny could come up with for a small, yellow canary, seemed to be determined not to let its owner get even a minute of sleep, maybe as a way of expressing its disagreement with its new name. Not to mention that a big bouquet of red flowers was waiting for her with a note attached to it saying With undying love. Yours, Colin Bridgerton as the latest and most wicked reification of the prank that has unfolded between Franny and Colin. On top of that, not soon after having taken breakfast and incidentally broken no less than three eggs, Everly has announced that a great number of callers were waiting on Miss Granville. This sent Franny, already furious, over the edge, and she declared, so loudly that probably even in the servant's quarters could be heard, that she was sick and tired of suitors and Everly might as well just tell them to go to hell. Mrs. Granville smiled at him and added, probably just tell them that Franny is feeling under the weather and she will gladly welcome all of them on another day. Huffing and puffing all the way up the stairs and foreshadowing her arrival, Franny came across the hall with her uncle who handed her a painting board, nudged her gently, and ordered her to go paint, immediately. As she reached her room, she yanked the window open and threw the roses out which landed on one of the suitors' heads. News, of course, travelled fast.
✦
This Author believed that she knew the use of a beautiful bouquet of red roses: in most cases when a gentleman declares his love to an equally gorgeous lady, it symbolises his affection towards her. A bouquet of beautiful red roses, we learnt today, also have the tendency to fly out of windows, especially if they happen to be sent to Miss Granville. The aforementioned lady seems to have reached the height of her popularity as the Granville house is reported to be buzzing with suitors, who were rather disappointed to find that the host was not in a condition to welcome them (reported to be struggling with the symptoms of unwanted attention). London's most infamous charmer, Colin Bridgerton is leading the courting, for he was seen the day before leaving the house with a wide grin on his handsome face which has prompted this high demand. It seems that Lord Wetherby has got some competition. Albeit, a little competition over a lady's heart has never worn any gentleman down.
Lady Whistledown
✦
"Peacocks, stuffed peacocks. And wild parrots locked in golden cages. Not to mention that the artificial trees are ridiculous. I'd like to meet the one who has come up with this idea of a design," Franny grunted, the morning's bad mood still not completely distilled.
"Hush now Franny, this is a perfectly lovely party and you have been a menace for the better part of the day. We arrived late because of you, so you might as well let me enjoy the rest of what is left of this evening. Why don't you fetch me a glass of champagne and have one yourself why are you at it?" Mrs. Granville suggested or rather ordered her niece.
Her aunt rarely lashed out at her so Franny realised that she must have been quite a handful the whole day, for reasons she could not exactly put her fingers on. She had no idea why she came to this party, but it might have to do with the fact that her eyes were constantly searching the room for a certain windswept coal-black hairdo. And she was also itching to get her hands on Colin Bridgerton to "thank" him for the roses. Scanning the room in search of someone has also the danger, Franny quickly learned, of locking eyes with someone one wanted to stay far away from. As soon as Lord Tompkins caught sight of her, he made his excuses and started walking towards her. Franny turned around, quickly making her escape, glancing behind her shoulders, only to find herself almost having crashed into not else, but the queen who for some reason has chosen to put a sheep on her head, striking Franny's imagination about her next portrait. What about a cloud, or a puddle? Next to the queen's side was her strikingly blonde and equally handsome nephew, the Prince of Prussia. Gasping, Franny curtsied as politely as she could and muttered her greetings next to her heartfelt apologies. After all, she quite enjoyed her head attached to her torso.
"Ah, are you here to cause some havoc, Miss Granville, or maybe throw some insults at my nephew?' the queen's painted eyebrows rose highly, mischief glittering in her eyes as if she was daring Franny to do so.
"Not at all, Your Majesty. I hold absolute respect for His Highness and the great Kingdom of Prussia. Indeed, I do find the liberation of peasants and the school reform undertaken the most enlightened."
"Thank you, Miss Granville," taken aback, but granting her a sweet, handsome smile Prince Friedrich certainly did not expect that response. "You seem to be most up to date about the state of affairs."
"Yes, Your Highness, I like to be informed of what is happening around us, especially in this rather horrendous war we are engaged with France."
"Perhaps Miss Granville fancies herself to be a military adviser, not a young debutante barely out of her leading strings," the queen chimed in, bored with the direction the conversation was going.
"Oh, I wish dearly. I am deeply concerned about the aftermath of this conflict and that Prussia might be wiped out of the," recognising the sarcasm in her voice a tad late, Franny quickly changed the subject, "Oh, of course, I meant that I hope Your Highness will have a wonderful time in this wonderful country of ours, especially at this wonderful party." One or two wonderfuls could be used in a sentence, but three clearly implied everything but wonder. Franny gulped, thinking whether she has gone too far, but Friedrich's smile widened. Amused at the situation, he lifted Franny's hand and placed a gentle kiss on it.
"Most intriguing, it is wonderful to make your acquaintance, Miss Granville," with a playful glint in his turquoise eyes he said his goodbyes while the queen cast a frustrated and yet amused look at her.
✦
Letting out a long, relieved sigh Franny promised to herself that she would get better at running away from unwanted suitors.
"Miss Granville, you have deviously fooled everyone, for all along you had your eyes on a prince," Franny could feel the smile in the teasing voice. Carefully rearranging her grin into a grimace, she turned around with as much grace as she could.
"Hmmm Mr. Bridgerton you must not think yourself so smart, for it is a commonplace that every girl dreams of a prince sweeping them off their feet, resolving all their problems and making them pretty little princesses, do they not," she commented wryly and the playful glint in Benedict's eyes showed that he picked up on the sarcasm.
"Though I must admit the prince is rather charming and handsome," she added quietly, her cheeks turning slightly pink. Benedict, who had the right amount of self-confidence not to feel offended when another man's charms were praised, even if by the infamous Frances Granville, surveyed the prince with a curious expression. Indeed, his curly, straw-coloured hair, matching beard and kind eyes gave him a pleasant countenance. And, of course, money, power and estates could make anyone glow, not that the prince seemed to boast of any of that.
The parrot next to them chose this moment to let out a resentful squawk making Franny jump in a very unladylike manner.
Benedict chuckled, "You don't seem to be fond of parrots."
"I like parrots just fine," Franny replied, crossing her arms mutinously. "What I don't like is a bird in a cage, especially when it is for the sole purpose of entertaining guests. It is positively awful that we use everything for our pleasure. Imagine how this poor little creature might be feeling: no space to stretch its wings, loud music and all these ladies looking like hideous oversized birds. This poor parrot must be insulted." Benedict chuckled under his breath as he found her frustration cute, but did not want to further anger her. Indeed, the passion in her voice made her glow and he felt intrigued.
"Oh, I am sorry my lord," she clasped her hand over her mouth. "My aunt has already remarked that I have been annoying the whole day, a menace, to be precise. So I shall stop fussing, and ask about the weather."
Benedict could have listened to her fussing longer, but he decided to make use of this opportunity to raise another issue and playful eyebrow: "The weather is going crazy nowadays. I heard that today it was raining roses,"
"Mr. Bridgerton, I did not take you for someone who indulges in scandal sheets," she teased him with a sly half-smile, frowning.
"Well Miss Granville, as a matter of fact, I do not. Albeit, one cannot help but hear the latest gossip when he is surrounded by no less than four sisters."
"Bouquets of roses tend to fly out of my window when they attract a hoard of suitors. My day has been hell many thanks owed to your brother. Indeed, you might help me devise my revenge unless, of course, your family loyalty prevents you from doing so."
"Nonsense, no Bridgerton would pass up an opportunity to tease another Bridgerton. I am yours to command."
Before Franny could sketch her plan, Lord Wetherby made his way to them, greeting Franny with a charming smile and Benedict with an almost imperceptible nod.
"Mrs. Granville, you look lovely today, and I am glad that we finally see each other. How have you been lately?"
"I have been having troubles with a rather wicked Bridgerton," Franny responded, but her attention travelled to the other side of the room. Lord Wetherby surveyed Benedict suspiciously, trying to discern whether he was the source of Bridgerton-induced frustration. Benedict met his gaze boldly.
"Oh not this Bridgerton," quickly realising her mistake, Franny instinctively put her hand on Benedict's upper arm. Lord Wetherby did not miss the gesture and his eyes were glued to her hand. "Benedict has been nothing but kind to me, saving me from the clutches of Lord Tompkins. Twice now, actually."
Benedict noted that for the first time ever she called him by his given name, he definitely liked the sound of it. Taking advantage of his situation he lifted Franny's gloved-covered hand to his lips, placing a small kiss on it, "It has been my pleasure, my lady."
Franny tore her gaze from his aunt to raise a curious eyebrow at the gentleman for she could not understand why he suddenly became so touchy-feely. She liked him more when he was forward and witty than debonair and formal.
"How is the canary I have gifted you?" inquired Lord Wetherby, trying to get Franny's attention.
"Lord Archibald Tewksbury? He is fine, in fact so fine that he has been making a sport of not letting me get any sleep. The cage might be the next thing flying out of the window, though," Franny's eyes went afar once again. Benedict let out a heartfelt chuckle and did not miss that just a few minutes ago she remarked how she disapproved of imprisoned birds. Lord Wetherby's usually calm and undisturbed countenance was strained.
"I don't mean that, of course, I would never hurt a living creature," she quickly added, glancing at both of them. Benedict wore a wide, lazy grin and Lord Wetherby an affable expression, but there was something stiff in the way they both held themselves. Franny could not fathom what was wrong with them, but to be frank, she was rather concerned about the way her aunt was chatting with Lord Weaver.
"I do apologise for my absence, my lady, and I thank Mr. Bridgerton for his assistance," Lord Wetherby smiled artificially at the other man, short of any thanks. "Albeit his assistance will no longer be necessary now that I am back.
Benedict arched a curious eyebrow at him, drew himself up, towering above Lord Wetherby, who did not flinch but stood his ground. Franny seemed not to notice the vying unfolding in front of her very eyes as her attention was fixed at her aunt who seemed to be enjoying herself in the company of Lord Weaver. As perceptive as she was, sometimes she managed to be completely blind in the face of, some would say, more important issues.
"Well, if you don't mind Mr. Bridgerton, I would like to accompany Miss Granville to the dance floor."
"I do happen to mind, Lord Wetherby, as I was just about to ask her myself," Benedict pushed back, the tension palpable between them. Lord Weaver whispered something in Lucy's ear that gave Franny the chills and a strong sense of frustration came over her. Remembering that she had failed to bring a glass of champagne to her aunt, and taking it as a chance to intervene, she grabbed two glasses, completely missing that the two men, with arms extended to her, were waiting for her answer.
She gave both of them a glass of champagne, completely and utterly misinterpreting their gesture, "If you excuse me, gentlemen, I must find my aunt now. It has been lovely to talk to both of you and I hope you will enjoy the rest of the evening. Do stay away from the honeysuckle though, I believe it has some wildlife inhabiting it," she said her goodbyes absent-mindedly, stealing a quick glance at both of them.
The two gentlemen were left standing in front of each other, with champagne in their hands, and without a lady to dance with. Lord Wetherby, completely deadpan, glared at Benedict, then turned tails and left without saying anything. Benedict automatically gulped the champagne down then could not help but let out a heartfelt chuckle for the situation was hilarious.