White Roses a.b

chapter 30

The Marquess and Marchioness were drinking cordials in the library when Ash tapped at the door frame. They looked as exhausted as Mary Ann had, and though Ash knew their day had been spent entertaining and mingling more than the sort of labor Mary Ann and the servants had done, she still had a great deal of sympathy for them.

The Turtle Days Festival had been trying for everyone.

Despite Mary Ann’s pessimism, Ash thought maybe her parents would be too upset to argue with her. Maybe they would be more receptive to her frightening new ideas when their long-held traditions had so recently collapsed around them.

She did feel guilty about hoping it was so.

‘Retiring early?’ her father asked when he saw her lingering in the doorway. ‘I don’t blame you, child. Come give me a goodnight kiss.’

Ash forced her lips to smile and came forward to give her father a kiss on his wrinkled brow. ‘Actually,’ she said, pulling back, ‘I hoped I might have a moment to speak with you.’ She glanced at her mother, reclined on the sofa. She was still wearing her gown from the festival – the hem was caked with drying sand. ‘With both of you.’

Her mother’s face lifted, clearing away some of her tiredness, and she sat up with a grin. ‘Oh, Ashley. Of course we’ll grant our consent – you needn’t look so worried. But do sit and tell us everything. We could use some joy to finish this awful day.’

Ashley’s eyes widened, and astounding joy was just about to bubble over when she realized, of course, her mother was speaking of the King. ‘Thank you, Mother, but I wasn’t . . .’

Her mother waved at the empty chair across from them. ‘Don’t be shy, dearest. Your father and I have been waiting seventeen years for such good news, and it couldn’t have come at a better time. We can hope that everyone will be so excited about the upcoming wedding they’ll forget all about today’s misfortune.’ She pressed a hand to her forehead, like trying to rub the memory out from her brow, before her eyes brightened again. ‘Did he propose during the quadrille? You looked so happy out there. Lovestruck, even, if I’m not mistaken. Naughty child, I can hardly believe you kept the secret from us for even a moment!’

Ashley gripped her hands together. ‘You misunderstand, Mother. The King hasn’t proposed. He was speaking prematurely during the contest.’ The corner of her eye twitched. ‘To be honest, I’m irritated that he wasn’t more careful with keeping our courtship an intimate affair.’

Her mother frowned. ‘You aren’t engaged?’

‘No. I’m not.’ Ash perched herself on the edge of the wingback chair her mother had indicated. Its feathered wings tried to wrap around her but she shook them off. ‘There was something else I wished to discuss with you.’

Her mother still looked confused. ‘Something other than the King?’

‘I’m afraid the King does not occupy my thoughts nearly as much as he occupies yours, Mama.’

Her mother stiffened, and Ash felt guilty for her sass, but her father’s snort relieved it somewhat. He leaned forward, dwarfing his cordial glass in his enormous hands. ‘Go on, then. What’s on your mind?’

‘Well.’ She dug her fingertips into the material of her skirt to keep from fidgeting. ‘You know that Mary Ann and I entered a cake into the contest today. The pumpkin spice cake that the judges were sampling just before . . .’

‘Yes, we did notice,’ her mother said, eyes narrowing. ‘I understand the King is fond of your treats, but when will you realize it isn’t proper to spend all your time in the kitchen – and to enter the contest! The daughter of the Marquess, entering a contest at the Marquess’s own festival. Didn’t you stop to think how that would look?’