Witty, daring and with a secret knack for painting Frances Granville arrives at London with two convictions: one, that she is not interested in men, especially not in lords who parade impeccably around courting innocent young ladies at balls only to...
"Good morning dearest. That letter was sent to you," Mr. Granville greeted Franny over the newspaper spread in his lap while smoking his favourite cigar.
"Hmm," Franny walked in, curiously. As she opened the letter, she was surprised to find a few, small daisy flowers falling out of it. She turned her attention to the writing but having just finished her latest painting, a portrait of the queen with spaghetti bolognese on her head, the water droplets smeared the lower part of the paper. Cursing to herself, which the Granvilles graciously ignored, she read the inscription:
To Miss Granville, in the hope that she would accept my apology and find this flower to her liking. ******* ****gerton
A lot could be deducted from one's handwriting and Franny, who took correspondence seriously, took a moment to examine the card closely: the penmanship was neat, cursive and elegant, its owner probably boasted of a healthy amount of confidence and filled out dozens of cards each day, sending them to young ladies in the company of flowers. And, of course, it was the same as on the last note, not to mention that the "gerton" was visible, therefore Franny easily figured the mysterious sender to be Colin Bridgerton. Obviously, he was apologising for the bouquet of red roses which (in)famously flew out of the window and decided to adopt more subtle tactics. Indeed, it would even have been to Franny's liking to receive daisies had they been sent by anyone but Colin Bridgerton. Before she could start plotting her masterful revenge, the newest edition of the Lady Whistledown's Society Papers was delivered.
"Oh dear, we appear to have missed the biggest scandal of the season," Lucy Granville exclaimed while noting to herself that Franny has finally secured a worthy suitor who somehow has managed to figure out her favourite flower. Enjoying the anticipation, Lucy posed a little before revealing the secret.
"Daphne Bridgerton, praised once again to be the Season's Incomparable, has traded the Duke up for Prince Friedrich," she delivered the juicy news, her voice laced with surprise.
"Most astounding. I was dead certain that they would make it down the aisle," Franny commented, rolling one of the daisies between her fingers.
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"Well, it certainly does not bode well for the Duke," Mr. Granville murmured, surrounded by a mysterious cloud of smoke.
"Albeit, not at all unreasonable. I imagine if you are a princess and your prince truly listens to you, and Friedrich seems like the type who does, you can have a real impact on the state of affairs. I would die for that kind of influence."
"A little bit less death on this fine morning would be appreciated, Franny dearest," Mr. Granville remarked, handing the newspaper to her niece as he knew she was eager to read it.
"Be that as it may," Mrs. Granville added, "Do not forget the social duties of a princess, all the balls you would need to host and all the guests you would need to entertain. With impeccable manners and a genuine smile."
