𝐑𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐬 (𝐓𝐞𝐰𝐤𝐞𝐬𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐲 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫)

𝐒𝐢𝐱

            

"What are you saying?" You asked Daisy, trying to pull yourself together.

Daisy gave an unladylike scoff before erupting into a quiet, breathy laugh, delicately lifting her fan to veil the smile that spread across her lips. "Oh, dearest [Y/N], do not trouble yourself so," she said slyly. "Just admit it—it would save you the trouble. You are utterly taken with him."

You drew in a sharp breath, offended more by how close she had come to the truth than the suggestion itself. "I am not," You replied—too quickly, too sharply. It was a lie, or near enough to one. The memory of your dance together still clung to you. The way his eyes had held yours... no, you could not deny that you longed for another stolen moment.

Daisy only hummed knowingly, her gaze drifting back to the dark-haired gentleman with whom she had been conversing earlier. The dark-haired gentleman who was also looking at her. You gave her a quick jab to the elbow.

Her head snapped back toward you, her eyes flashing with irritation. "You are engaged," You reminded her in a hushed tone, one brow lifted in stern reproach.

She winced—just faintly—before quickly composing herself, painting a sweet smile over her red-painted lips. "Of course I am. But surely there is no harm in a bit of... friendly conversation."

  
You inclined your head, though you weren't entirely convinced. "I'm to meet Tewkesbury," You confessed, lowering your voice further still. "When the clock strikes eleven."

That pulled her attention back to you. Daisy turned with fresh interest, a soft giggle escaping her as she gave your elbow an affectionate rub. "When you return, you must tell me everything," she insisted, her voice a mixture of excitement and mischief. "You do realize you like him, don't you? I've known you since we were girls, [N/N]."

She leaned in, her grin widening. "And you certainly like him more than you ever—"

You nudged her shoulder sharply just as Phillip approached. His gaze settled on Daisy first, cool and suspicious, before softening when it found you. He smiled a true smile, warm and perhaps a little too hopeful and you felt a pang of guilt. He deserved affection in return, and you could not summon it. Not the kind he sought.

"Phillip! We were just speaking of you," Daisy declared in a falsely sweetened tone, her voice taking on the exaggerated tone she used when uncomfortable.

Phillip's lips curled into a modest smirk. "All pleasant things, I should hope."

You nodded and offered a small smile of your own, feigning a hint of fluster in your expression. He seemed pleased, and you, ashamed of your deception.

Just then, Lorenzo appeared, making his way through the crowd with the elegance of one well-versed in society's unspoken hierarchies. He stepped beside Phillip and reached out with a hand, warm and tan, to gently caress Daisy's pale cheek.