Ursula tried to remember who the Andovers were, but her memory failed her. One ball was very much like another as far as she was concerned, and it was impossible to remember everyone’s names and faces. She wished that the month was nearly over because she yearned for just one evening with her feet up in front of the fire.
Thinking about the fireplace in her bedroom drew her thoughts toward the new arrangement of flowers sitting on the table beside her bed at Adelaide’s house. One new arrangement of posies had arrived each day for the past week, still with no name attached and still just as mysterious as they had been from the beginning.
“Who do you think it is?”
“What is, dear?” Adelaide asked somewhat confused.
“Who do you think keeps sending me the flowers?”
“Well, it is obvious, isn’t it?”
Ursula frowned at that. “Is it?”
“It has to be Trenton, doesn’t it?”
Ursula stared at her. “What makes you think that?”
“He has known you since he was a young boy. Isn’t it a little unusual that you come to London and well, surprise, surprise, he is here at the same time?”
“The season is due to begin soon though. Surely that is a good enough reason for him to be in London,” Ursula replied. She couldn’t believe that Trenton would do such a thing. “I know I have said this before but I have been living right next door for years and he hasn’t bothered before. Why should he do so now?”
“Ah, but he is not married yet, is he?”
“He is as good as,” Ursula chided. “I cannot see that any fiancé would be at ease with her future husband sending another woman flowers. Can you?”
For once, Adelaide seemed to consider that for several moments, then conceded the point. “Well, who do you think they might be from then?”
“Brampton?” Ursula asked. Her brows lifted as she waited.
“I hope not,” Adelaide groused. “You really don’t want to capture his attention.”
“He is nice.”
“Ha! He is a scoundrel.”
Ursula jumped back when one gloved finger appeared inches from the end of her nose.
“I warn you to stay away from him. He is up to no good,” her aunt declared firmly. “If I find out that man is sending you flowers then I will send the next arrangement straight back to him. I promise you that much.”
“Well, I don’t know any other men, apart from Alfred Sinnerton.” She closed her eyes and prayed that they weren’t from him.
“Oh no,” Adelaide murmured with a shake of her head. “I would prefer your secret admirer to be Brampton. Although, if he is, I am also glad he hasn’t come forward to claim responsibility.” She considered Ursula’s comment for a moment. “No, I cannot believe it would be Brampton. He is the kind of man who would make sure you knew he had spent that much time and effort on you right from the very start. He would brag about it to anyone and everyone, just to make his interest known to other parties. No, it’s not Brampton.”
“He can’t be that bad,” Ursula protested.
“His reputation is one of the worst in London. That man relies on his looks too much, and cannot be trusted. I won’t countenance you encouraging his attentions, Ursula.”
“I won’t,” she replied.
“Have you sent a letter to your father yet?” Adelaide snapped, determined to change the subject.
Ursula shook her head. “There is nothing to tell him.”
“Apart from the fact that you haven’t found a husband yet, you mean?”
“No, and I am not going to either,” Ursula snapped. She sensed Adelaide’s astonishment at her fervency of her reply but kept her gaze turned toward what she could see of the passing scenery.
“He has given you a month, Ursula. Time is ticking.”