donkey, of which I have it on good authority you have such a strong dislike, can possibly find a place in your affections, then perhaps there is reason to hope that I can, too.
Forever yours, Gregory
They were from Gregory. The flowers, the book, the donkey. Though the donkey was a little much.
I peeked back in at the animal. It lifted his head and almost purred at me. Perhaps I could get used to donkeys. Or at least this one. Maybe I’d name him Gregory. Lady Williams would be amused.
I glanced back down at the letter and the rose.
The rose. The one that had been at the lake. He’d left it for me? He must have known I would walk there one last time.
I closed my eyes and breathed in the fresh scent that reminded me of the arbor in his garden.
Perhaps Gregory would be at the ball. Surely Daniel would have invited him, after Gregory had come all this way to ensure the lake project ran smoothly. It must be why he didn’t want me to see the guest list—he wanted it to be a surprise.
Tonight I would see Gregory. Tonight we would dance.
I shook my head. I shouldn’t want to dance with him. I’d been a wager.
But he’d confessed his feelings had changed from what they’d been at first. He was out to secure my affections.
Foolish man. They were already his.
With a smile so large I knew I looked ridiculous, I walked back to the house, rereading the note and twirling the rose between my fingers.
Forty-Three
My hair was pinned up, a curl cascading over my shoulder, the white rose from the barn worked into my chignon as the only adornment. My white gown with blue embroidery was buttoned and pinned tight enough to be modest, loose enough to allow movement. My new blue ribbon from Alice was secured around the raised waistline, accenting the embroidery just as Alice must have known it would. A dab of perfume scented my wrists and neck. I was ready.
A knock at my door announced my mother’s entrance. “The carriage is waiting.”
I grabbed the thin blue silk wrap off my bed, its color matching my dress and Alice’s ribbon perfectly, and made to leave.
My mother, looking exquisite in her own ivory gown with silver embroidered flowers sprinkled along its bodice, skirt, and hems, placed a hand on my shoulder. “James Johnson showed a great deal of interest in you the last time he visited. Perhaps tonight you might show him some deference?”
James? “Mother, he has no more interest in me than I do in him. I promise you.”
“Still, a ball is a wonderful place to change opinions.”
“Because that’s how you and father met?”
“Many couples meet at a ball.” Her gaze drifted to a place behind me. “I’ll never forget when your father asked me to dance. I had no desire to dance with him. There was another man I had my eyes on. But since refusing your father meant sitting out the rest of the dances, and the evening had just begun, I accepted. I don’t remember ever struggling so hard not to laugh as I did during that set. Your father kept up such a relentless conversation of witty jokes, I was afraid of snorting right in the middle of the ballroom.” She smiled to herself, then at me. “You look beautiful. Let’s just hope James notices.”
It was not for James that I’d taken such care with my appearance. For while my mother may have met her love at a ball, my heart had been sealed in a ballroom to the north, with mirrors lining the walls and where the promise of a waltz lay unfulfilled.
We bid goodbye to Alice and joined Daniel and my father in the carriage. When we descended at the Rosthorns’, it was to the glow of dancing flames lighting the drive and stairway. Daniel offered me his arm and we followed our parents in to where Sir Edward and Lady Rosthorn awaited us in the hall.
Every wall sconce in the house seemed to be lit, for there was hardly a shadow to be seen. The polished floor sparkled and the wood of the staircase gleamed. I glanced at Daniel to find him anxiously glancing upstairs, his own eyes a reflection of the dancing flames along the walls.
“Louisa has not yet descended,” Lady Rosthorn said by way of greeting.
“May I go up?” I asked. “She asked me to attend her.”
Daniel’s expression turned to a poorly-constructed mask of unconcern that