Page 33 of A Season for Scandal

“Please, won’t you come in and sit down?” Mother showed our guests through while I went and placed the flowers Oliver had brought in a vase. I thought with a smile that he had accidentally landed on a choice that would do more to convince my family of our ruse than anything else: deep crimson roses.

Rose.Rosa.Meaning: passionate love.

By the time I returned to the sitting room, Oliver was sitting stiffly in a chair, being treated like an honoured guest.

“Ah, here she is now,” Grandfather exclaimed jovially. “Tell me, Mr Lockhart, what were your first impressions of our Marigold? Was it love at first sight?”

“Yes, tell us, Oliver,” Mrs Finch said, all smiles.

Oliver’s eyes flicked to mine, and I thought there was a slight flush on his cheeks. “I thought she was…”

I waited with interest to see how he would finish this sentence.

“Quite strange,” he said, and then, possibly remembering himself at Daisy’s giggle, he added in a lower voice, “and quite lovely.”

Goosebumps erupted over my skin, and I mentally reminded my body that he was simply playing a part.

“Oh,” Mother exhaled.

“And after this meeting you began a correspondence?” Grandfather asked, allowing a little disapproval to slip in.

“Err … yes?” Oliver said, and the word sounded like a question.

“My godson always was shy,” Mrs Finch said, twinkling. “I know because he confided in me that while he understood that writing to Miss Bloom was technically a breach of etiquette, he simply couldn’thelphimself – he was so struck by her.”

“Oh yes, she certainly struck me,” Oliver said darkly. “Knocked me clean off my feet.”

Here I let out a curious wheezing sound, which thankfully my family seemed to interpret as a display of emotion.

“So, you want to show Mari around your castle like in a fairy tale?” Daisy asked, practically bouncing in her seat.

“It’s not a castle,” Oliver said.

“Doesn’t it have turrets?” Mrs Finch asked sweetly.

“Yes,” Oliver replied grudgingly.

“And a drawbridge?” She clasped her hands in her lap.

“A small one,” Oliver admitted.

“And aren’t there gargoyles?”

Oliver looked put out. “There are … several historicalcarvings.”

“Sounds like a castle to me,” Daisy whispered, looking delighted. “To think, our Marigold, living in a castle.”

“I’m not going to be living in a castle,” I said hastily. Honestly, trying to manage everyone’s expectations was giving me a headache. “We have things to discuss, but there’s no need to worry about me leaving you and the business behind. As it is, I’m not sure how we’ll manage even for a week.”

I hadn’t meant to say that aloud, but I suppose it was fair enough to have some anxiety over the matter, however much I was enjoying watching Oliver Lockhart squirm.

“We’ll befine, won’t we, Mother?” Daisy said.

“Of course we will,” my mother replied, though her tone was doubtful.

Grandfather was looking between us, his expression hard to read.

“Honestly, Mari, I think it’s exciting,” Daisy insisted. “You deserve to get away from work for a bit, and we’ll see how we get on without you. I mean it’s not as if you’re going to be here for ever, is it?”