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ACT ONE chapter eight
When Anthony didn't take his chance to propose to Edwina during the last dinner they'd have before the rest of the Ton shows up for Violet's annual Hearts and Flowers ball, Eloise found herself feeling almost better about her own predicament of rejection, but then, across the dining table, she catches Mabel's eye before the fair-haired miss quickly averts her eyes and Eloise is back to wallowing in self-pity.
She can't stop thinking about her. About the soft material of her dress clenched in her fingers, the feel of the French misses own fingers on her jaw, tilting her head to feel the plushness of her lips all the more. And Lord, the taste of her. Sweet. Perfect. Oh so addicting. Eloise wants more, and staring unapologetically at Mabel, whose cheeks are turning pinker the longer she's under the Bridgerton misses spotlight, Eloise knows it's not entirely one-sided.
Only thing is, Mabel is surprisingly good at avoiding her, no matter the rooms and corridors Eloise searches for her in the blanket of the night, not even found in the guest room temporarily hers. And that leaves her to her thoughts, going over that kiss, over and over again until she feels sick with need. With yearning.
And worst of all, she finds herself wondering: what does this all mean?
She thought this kind of feeling was only felt for the opposite sex. That she shouldn't be going around and feeling jealousy rearing its ugly head whenever she spots Mabel laughing with Archie Cowper at the balls before. That she shouldn't feel this tingling sensation travelling over every curve and in every crevice of her person at just the sight of her ethereal features, her adoring smile, her perfect curls.
Eloise has never cared for appearances. Certainly not her own, and certainly not of other ladies. So why now? Why, as Mabel's senses invade her day and night, a linger of her presence in every room she enters, does Eloise feel like this? So entirely helpless with the tight grip Mabel has somehow managed to get on her.
She feels like she's drowning and yet she feels a type of euphoria whenever Mabel grants her a single part of her attention. She's pining like that daft Archie Cowper and she hates it more than she hates the male species... Well, perhaps not quite so far.
So instead of gazing over at Mabel as she converses joyfully with Archie Cowper, who arrived to Aubrey Hall not so long ago with the rest of the Ton, and wishing Mabel's skin was under her fingers, her lips captured in hers, Eloise forces her mind back onto the mystery that is Lady Whistledown.
"Oh, Pen!" She exclaims as her redheaded friend comes up to her, "You are finally here. With only my own family to speak to, I've begun talking to the trees."
Penelope laughs as Colin questions from the side of them, "Is she calling me wooden?"
"I do not think so."
"I could call him much worse."
"Is there not another pamphlet on women's rights to read somewhere around here?" Colin says in faux wonder.
