"You're offering me a rose?"
"Aren't roses a way of saying I love you?"
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In which [Y/N's] noble and honored family's money starts to decline and they find the only way of staying out of the ruins is to fix their daughter an arranged marriage.
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"What are you saying?" I asked Daisy, trying to pull myself 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."
I drew in a sharp breath, offended more by how close she had come to the truth than the suggestion itself. "I am not," I replied—too quickly, too sharply. It was a lie, or near enough to one. The memory of our dance still clung to me like the echo of a melody. The way his eyes had held mine... no, I could not deny I 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. I gave her a quick jab to the elbow.
Her head snapped back toward me, her eyes flashing with irritation. "You are engaged," I 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."
I inclined my head, though I wasn't entirely convinced. "I'm to meet Tewkesbury," I confessed, lowering my voice further still. "When the clock strikes eleven."
That pulled her attention back to me. Daisy turned with fresh interest, a soft giggle escaping her as she gave my 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—"
I nudged her shoulder sharply just as Phillip approached. His gaze settled on Daisy first, cool and suspicious, before softening when it found me. He smiled—a true smile, warm and perhaps a little too hopeful—and I felt a pang of guilt. He deserved affection in return, and I 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."
I nodded and offered a small smile of my own, feigning a hint of fluster in my expression. He seemed pleased, and I—ashamed of my 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.
