“I am sorry. Are you not fond of them? I do not know flower meanings. Are they offensive?”
“Not at all. I love them. It’s difficult to explain. But they’re good. Trust me.”
“But you’re crying. I’ve made a right mess of this.”
“No, no. I talk to Gabriel sometimes. The way you talk to Adriane?” She flicked the tears away, drawing an elegant finger beneath her lashes to collect the last of them. “He used to bring me irises, and I had them planted near him. It feels a bit like permission. But I’m always assigning meaning where there is none. At least when it concerns him. It is surely a lovely coincidence, nothing more.”
I was not quite certain how to feel about that. It seemed a bit doltish, bringing her the same flowers as her late husband. And being compared to Gabriel in anything was sure to find me wanting. But… permission. Permission for what? That was certainly an inappropriate question.
“Truly, William,” she assured me. “They are my favorites. Well, anything purple.”
Purple, that made sense. She wore purple that night, and she wore it now. And the room around us was draped in purples,mixed with the same soft green from the hall. I could remember purple.
She returned to her place on the settee near the window, leaving me with the awkward choice of chairs placed slightly too far and the space at her side, far too close. Coward that I was, I chose the chair.
“I’m glad you like them. How are you feeling? Are you well?”
“Quite. Only a few bumps and bruises from our adventure. Nothing too serious.”
“Bruises? Where? How bad are they?”
“Well, the worst of them is right here,” she said. She pointed to the slope where her neck met her shoulder.
There, faint and small, was a red mark. What had happened in the fight to cause that? Was that truly the most serious of her injuries? I glanced up and caught green eyes full of mirth I couldn’t explain.
“I suppose it’s lucky that is the worst of it.”
My comment was met with a feminine giggle. Clearly I was missing something.
“William, that one is from you.”
“What?” I could not recall hitting her accidentally last night. When did that happen?
“When you were kissing me…”
“Oh! Oh no. I am so sorry, Celine. Believe me, I had no intention of marking you…”
“Do not apologize, it made me laugh. Though I did have to wear a fichu to visit Mama, and I despise those. I suppose you may apologize for that.”
Asking what a fichu was seemed to be the wrong course of action in this situation. “I am truly sorry.”
“It is no matter. Speaking of my mother… She wishes to meet you.”
She wished… But that meant… “You told your mother about me?”
“It was more that she looked at me and knew. But I would have gotten around to mentioning you before I left. It just would have taken longer.”
“What did she say?”
“That she wants to have you over for supper. Or that I could host if I preferred. Is there a day that would be best for you? Or, I suppose, would you be interested in dining with us?”
Did I wish to dine with her mother? Not particularly. It sounded like an unusual form of torture. “I am available at her convenience. But was she not… concerned about my situation?”
“Oh, not at all.”
Every time I thought I understood this woman... Certainly she misunderstood. “Celine, surely she was not pleased. She understands I am not titled, and I have no lands or property?”
“I told her you were a solicitor. That you worked with Kate’s brother. She was pleased that you know the value of hard work. The implication being that courting me might be difficult work. I found the notion somewhat insulting, though not entirely inaccurate.”
