Page 93 of A Season for Scandal

“At least the shop is still standing,” I said, looking up at the familiar facade. “Though who knows what disaster awaits inside.”

Oliver nudged me. “Only one way to find out.”

“Right.” Pulling my shoulders back, I pushed the door open. The familiar sound of the bell rang out and I steeled myself.

But instead of disaster, I was met by only blissful tranquillity.

The shop was immaculate. The flowers displayed to perfection. Several customers browsed happily.

“What—” I began, but I was cut off when Daisy looked up from her place behind the counter, and shrieked, “Mari!”

I found myself with my arms around my sister who had thrown herself at me, dancing gleefully from foot to foot.

“You are back!” she exclaimed. “We weren’t expecting you until tomorrow.”

“Oh, well, we had some news to share, and I thought—”

Again, I was cut off as Daisy ignored me completely, darting towards the back room and shouting. “Mother! Grandfather! Mari is back!”

I watched in astonishment as the two of them came rushing in. My mother was wearing my dirt-covered apron. They pulled me in for more embraces. Then Grandfather pumped Oliver’s hand enthusiastically and slapped him several times on the back.

“Delighted to see you,” he said. “Delighted!”

Politely ushering the remaining customers out, Daisy turned the shop sign to “closed” so that we were alone.

“Will Mr Lockhart be joining us for dinner?” Mother asked.

Oliver’s eyes slid to mine. “Thank you for the invitation, but no. I’m afraid I am catching the train straight back to Yorkshire where I have business matters to attend to. But first I needed to come… I wanted to come … to ask you…” He cleared his throat nervously.

“We’re going to get married,” I blurted desperately.

To this enormous announcement, my family barely blinked.

“Well, yes – that’s wonderful, of course, darling,” Mother said finally. “But we already knew that.”

“I— What?” I managed.

Daisy looked in confusion between Oliver and myself. “You told us that before you went to Yorkshire.”

“I – I told you we wereconsideringpossiblybecomingengaged,” I stuttered.

Grandfather chuckled. “Naturally, we realized you were simply trying to prepare us for the inevitable as gently as possible.”

“It’s so like you, Mari!” Mother beamed. “Always thinking of others. But it was clear to us the moment we saw you together that you were meant to be. And of course Mrs Finch told us all about it.”

“Mrs Finch,” I murmured, dazed. “Told you all about it.”

Daisy nodded. “And when we got her telegraph about placing the announcement inThe Times, of course we were so pleased.”

“InThe Times?” Now Oliver was the one repeating things.

“It looks very handsome,” Mother said with satisfaction. “The engagement is announced between Oliver, son of Richard and Violante Lockhart of Lockhart Hall, Yorkshire, and Marigold, daughter of Rowan and Rose Bloom of London. I bought three copies!”

“And I took great satisfaction in thinking about Simon Earnshaw reading it over his breakfast!” Daisy smirked. “I hope he choked on his toast, that disgusting pig-worm.”

At this, Oliver made a sound of agreement.

I wondered then, almost wildly, if Mrs Finch had somehow planned this, plannedeverythingknowing all along that Oliver and I would end up here. It was silly, impossible really, and yet … if anyone could bend the universe to her will, it was her.