“So, where have you been?” Percival asked with a chuckle as he bumped Christopher’s shoulder.
“The privy,” Christopher lied.
“A likely story.” Percival continued to smile. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you are keeping secrets. Are you, cousin?”
Christopher chose not to reply though he looked at Lady Helena across the room.
CHAPTERELEVEN
“No, no, those won’t do.” Anna spoke with vigor as she waved a dismissive hand at the florist. “We need roses. They are the most fashionable at the moment.”
“Mama, I do not need roses,” Julia pleaded, walking alongside her mother down the aisle between various stands of flowers.
“You must have them, dear,” Anna did not relent.
Helena walked on behind her sister with her aunt at her side. Kitty kept making notes on a small pad of paper with a pencil as the florist turned redder and redder in the face, increasingly growing embarrassed at all of her suggestions being shot down by the Duchess of Dunton.
“Mother, listen to what Julia wants, please,” Helena pleaded though Anna appeared not to hear her.
“What else do you have?” Anna asked with her hands on her hips.
“I have some more through this room.” The florist pointed to a door, and Anna strode toward it without hesitation.
Julia went to follow, but Kitty held her back, taking her arm.
“Allow her, Julia,” Kitty whispered. “Your mother is fond of control, and as an awful thing as it is to say, this is just one day. You can run your marriage as you wish to; as much as Anna wishes to control the wedding day, that is as far as her control goes.”
Helena flicked her head toward her aunt in surprise, a small smile appearing on her features.
“Aunt Kitty, are you coming round to this marriage after all?” Helena said with excitement. Julia looped her arm through Kitty’s, clearly anticipating the answer with excitement.
“I did not say that,” Kitty murmured in a rush, tapping her pencil against her paper. “All I’m saying is that I want my niece to be happy.” She sighed deeply, plainly not content with the fact her niece was to marry a Moore.
“Oh, Aunt.” Julia released her arm, crossing toward a bouquet of gypsophila nearby. She picked up a steam of delicate white flowers and inhaled the scent. “I hoped you would be more open to the idea.”
“I can see why you thought I would be your best bet.” Kitty sighed and followed her, smelling the same flowers. “I wish for the best for you, love, even if that means marrying a Moore.” She huffed with the words.
“Yes, that sounded believable,” Helena teased her. Kitty offered a playful glare but soon cracked into a smile.
“If you tell me you’re in love, Julia, then I will believe you. I guess part of me fears that you are running away with the idea of star-crossed lovers, that is all.” Kitty shrugged. The words conjured a memory in Helena’s mind of her friend Nancy talking about Romeo and Juliet. It seemed some people were carried off with the romantic idea of a forbidden relationship. “Yet I just wish to be certain you will be happy.” Kitty tapped her niece’s nose with the flowers then returned them to their vase.
“I am happy,” Julia said with feeling. “I love him, truly.”
“You love him even when you argue?” Kitty asked. “That is a true test of love.”
“What is?” Helena asked in curiosity, picking up her favorite flower from a vase nearby. They were white carnations, rimmed with the most delicate dusky pink hue.
“The ability to argue with one and yet still find them infernally interesting and wish to talk to them again.”
Helena nearly dropped the flower in surprise. It was so similar to something that the Duke of Bridstone had said the night before, she was stunned.
“I have often argued with your uncle.” Kitty smiled. “Yet I love him all the same. I admire him, think highly of him, and long for his company. That, for me, was the greatest test of our relationship. Everyone will argue in life, and if you can actually enjoy yourself whilst arguing, then that is a great thing indeed.” Kitty led a path through the flowers with Julia following, but Helena didn’t follow.
She stared into the carnation in her hand, thinking of the Duke of Bridstone and how arguing with him always tempted her to smile.
No, no! I am not such a romantic fool. I will not mistake our warring words for a depth of feeling, for that is not what they are!
“Helena? Are you coming?” Julia called to her.
