bit. “Your friends did,” he replied quietly. “They told me. The day before I took you to Kensington Gardens and asked for your hand in marriage.”
There .
Despite what had happened the last time he mentioned his proposal, the words were out again. He wondered if the volcano that was Clarinda Ann Brotherton Fitzwilliam’s anger would suddenly erupt and leave him awash in molten lava.
Clarinda held her breath, remembering where this conversation had taken them the last time they’d had it two years ago. “I wasn’t aware my friends had shared that information with you ,” she replied, her voice barely a whisper.
Porter appeared in the doorway, clearing his throat to make his presence known. “Yes, Porter?” Clarinda and Daniel replied in unison.
“My lady, a floral delivery for you. Where shall I put the bouquets?” the butler asked as his eyes shifted nervously to his right.
Clarinda realized almost immediately that since David’s death notice had appeared in The Times , flowers would start arriving. Gladioli, no doubt, most from the hot houses just outside of London. “You can put them here on the table,” she offered, waving to the tea table in front of the settee. She noticed one of Daniel’s eyebrows arch up, but he said nothing.
Meanwhile, Porter gave his mistress an uncertain look. “My lady, all of these bouquets are ... far larger than that small table will allow, I should think,” he replied uncertainly.
“Oh?” Clarinda answered, coming to her feet. Caught by surprise at his sister-in-law’s quick rise, Daniel moved to stand and instead stayed seated, heaving a sigh. Clarinda made her way to the doorway and peeked around the corner. Several liveried delivery men stood in the vestibule and hallway, all burdened with large bouquets of pink flowers. “Oh!” she said, her hands coming up to clasp together in front of her waist.
There were at least seven very large vases of roses – pink roses – being hefted by the gloved servants. The scent of them filled the hallway, intoxicating her instantly. “Oh!” She stole a glance back at Daniel, but his attention was elsewhere, one leg crossed over the other and bobbing up and down. This cannot be a coincidence , Clarinda thought as she turned back to consider the huge rose garden that had suddenly appeared in her hall. “Um. One on that table over there,” she pointed toward the round table near the base of the stairs, “One in my bedchamber, one in here on the card table, one in the dining room, one in the breakfast room, one in the dowager countess’ bedchamber and one in the library,” she counted off as she pointed at each footman in turn. “Was there, perhaps, a card?” she asked in a whisper, leaning toward Porter as she made the query.
“If there is one, we haven’t yet found it, my lady,” the butler replied in an equally quiet voice.
Clarinda realized that looking for a pasteboard card in this mass of roses would be like looking for a needle in a haystack. “If you do find one, be sure to bring it to me straightaway,” Clarinda said, more of a suggestion than an order. Damn thing was probably pink to match the flowers , she thought as she stole another glance in Daniel’s direction.
“Very good, my lady,” Porter replied as he saw to the disbursement of the floral bounty.
Clarinda watched as the roses paraded past, one of them moving into the parlor, its carrier completely hidden by the display. The last time roses had been delivered to Norwick House, they had been red roses, roses ordered by her husband in honor of her birthday. And every birthday for the past four years, she remembered. Always red. Never pink.
She turned to re-enter the parlor at the same time Rosie appeared with the tea tray. “Thank you, Rosie,” she said as she returned to the settee. Spreading her black kerseymere skirt, she seated herself and regarded Daniel with a raised eyebrow, daring him to deny his involvement in the floral
There .
Despite what had happened the last time he mentioned his proposal, the words were out again. He wondered if the volcano that was Clarinda Ann Brotherton Fitzwilliam’s anger would suddenly erupt and leave him awash in molten lava.
Clarinda held her breath, remembering where this conversation had taken them the last time they’d had it two years ago. “I wasn’t aware my friends had shared that information with you ,” she replied, her voice barely a whisper.
Porter appeared in the doorway, clearing his throat to make his presence known. “Yes, Porter?” Clarinda and Daniel replied in unison.
“My lady, a floral delivery for you. Where shall I put the bouquets?” the butler asked as his eyes shifted nervously to his right.
Clarinda realized almost immediately that since David’s death notice had appeared in The Times , flowers would start arriving. Gladioli, no doubt, most from the hot houses just outside of London. “You can put them here on the table,” she offered, waving to the tea table in front of the settee. She noticed one of Daniel’s eyebrows arch up, but he said nothing.
Meanwhile, Porter gave his mistress an uncertain look. “My lady, all of these bouquets are ... far larger than that small table will allow, I should think,” he replied uncertainly.
“Oh?” Clarinda answered, coming to her feet. Caught by surprise at his sister-in-law’s quick rise, Daniel moved to stand and instead stayed seated, heaving a sigh. Clarinda made her way to the doorway and peeked around the corner. Several liveried delivery men stood in the vestibule and hallway, all burdened with large bouquets of pink flowers. “Oh!” she said, her hands coming up to clasp together in front of her waist.
There were at least seven very large vases of roses – pink roses – being hefted by the gloved servants. The scent of them filled the hallway, intoxicating her instantly. “Oh!” She stole a glance back at Daniel, but his attention was elsewhere, one leg crossed over the other and bobbing up and down. This cannot be a coincidence , Clarinda thought as she turned back to consider the huge rose garden that had suddenly appeared in her hall. “Um. One on that table over there,” she pointed toward the round table near the base of the stairs, “One in my bedchamber, one in here on the card table, one in the dining room, one in the breakfast room, one in the dowager countess’ bedchamber and one in the library,” she counted off as she pointed at each footman in turn. “Was there, perhaps, a card?” she asked in a whisper, leaning toward Porter as she made the query.
“If there is one, we haven’t yet found it, my lady,” the butler replied in an equally quiet voice.
Clarinda realized that looking for a pasteboard card in this mass of roses would be like looking for a needle in a haystack. “If you do find one, be sure to bring it to me straightaway,” Clarinda said, more of a suggestion than an order. Damn thing was probably pink to match the flowers , she thought as she stole another glance in Daniel’s direction.
“Very good, my lady,” Porter replied as he saw to the disbursement of the floral bounty.
Clarinda watched as the roses paraded past, one of them moving into the parlor, its carrier completely hidden by the display. The last time roses had been delivered to Norwick House, they had been red roses, roses ordered by her husband in honor of her birthday. And every birthday for the past four years, she remembered. Always red. Never pink.
She turned to re-enter the parlor at the same time Rosie appeared with the tea tray. “Thank you, Rosie,” she said as she returned to the settee. Spreading her black kerseymere skirt, she seated herself and regarded Daniel with a raised eyebrow, daring him to deny his involvement in the floral
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