Chapter 12 #2
“I will not pretend that what I feel for Lord Applegate has not been a little confusing, but it is not a feeling I despise.” Trying to make sense of all that was in her, Florence shook her head.
“I am quite sure that the Marquess does not think of me in the same way I think of him, but I would rather have had these feelings than never have experienced them. I will admit that there is certainly pain in the realization that he will not feel what I do, but to have gone through life without ever falling in love with a gentleman would, I think, have been a little disappointing… even if I never once thought such a thing of any importance!”
“That is certainly a very honest thing to admit,” Helena told her, with a small smile. “Though I must question you when you say that the Marquess does not think of you as you think of him. How can you be sure?”
Recalling what she had overheard Lord Applegate say after she had played the pianoforte for him, Florence heart twisted again.
“I heard it from his lips, Helena. He thinks only of me as an acquaintance, perhaps as a friend, but I shall be contented with that.” A sad smile touched her lips.
“I thought very poorly of him indeed, and whilst the ton think of him as having exceptionally high standards and a critical spirit, I must say that I have not found him to be so. Yes, he has been a little judgmental now and again, but he has been wonderfully kind to me and has saved me from two unfortunate situations. I can only think well of him.”
Reaching out, Helena settled her hand on Florence's knee. “Do not give up on it all, Florence. It may be that he simply chose not to speak openly to whomever he was talking with. There may be hope yet.”
“And now, the cake!”
Florence’s eyes grew wide as she watched an enormous cake being carefully brought in by the servants. The entire ballroom had fallen silent as the Marquess of Applegate had drawn their attention to the cake, which was almost majestic, given just how wonderful it was.
“This cake has a secret.” Lord Applegate beamed with such joy on his face that Florence was a little astonished.
It was clear that he was enjoying himself, and she had never before seen him in such a state.
Her toes curled in her slippers, finally admitting to herself that she did think him very handsome indeed this evening.
His eyes were shining with the joy of the evening, and as she watched, his gaze fell upon her.
Quickly, she looked away, feeling the warmth begin to spread up through her frame. How could it be that even a single look had her heart fluttering?
“This cake contains a secret,” Lord Applegate said again, his voice booming around the room.
“Within it, there is a single bean. If you find it, then you will be crowned king or queen for the evening.” With a snap of his fingers, he directed his gaze towards one of his servants, who quickly produced a crown sitting upon a purple cushion.
Immediately, murmurs began to spin around the room, and Florence smiled, feeling a twinge of excitement within herself.
It was a funny little game, but one that she was sure would take hold of all the guests here this evening.
She certainly would not take part, for whilst she thought it an excellent entertainment, she had no desire to be the center of attention.
“There you are.”
A hard voice made Florence wince, her smile instantly fading. “I was walking with Helena, Mother.”
“No, you were running away. That ridiculous noise you made when I told you to stand up straight was nothing short of an embarrassment. You certainly did not have to respond so. Did you not see the other guests looking at you?”
Florence turned sharply, a streak of anger rushing up towards her heart. “It was not because of your words that I responded so. It was because you stuck your finger in my side!”
Her mother snorted and rolled her eyes. “A likely excuse. It was a gentle nudge only.”
Her anger lingered, but shame threatened to nudge itself over it.
It was a familiar feeling, and Florence fought hard to deny it.
Her mother had always been able to bring about the very worst sensations within her, and even now, she was attempting to do the very same thing by blaming Florence for something she herself had done.
Remembering Helena's words, Florence shook her head.
“I will not take on responsibility that is not mine to bear. You may wish to shame me for the exclamation that I could not help but let out, but I will not carry it. I am proud of the improvements I have made. I am proud that I have been able to stand up in society and even dance with gentlemen without any great upset.” Quite sure that her mother would instantly respond with how she had hurried away from the Marquess during their waltz, Florence continued to speak.
“If a mistake is mine, then I shall certainly own it, but in this, I quite refuse to accept responsibility.” Seeing just how flushed her mother had become, Florence chose to step away from her entirely.
The shame had receded, and her anger had returned.
How long had she endured her mother's harsh criticisms?
How often had she begged for her mother to understand, only to be dismissed?
Nothing her mother had done had guided her on the right path.
If Lady Grangemouth had her way, Florence would have been engaged to either a rogue or a man old enough to be her father!
“Florence, come back here at once.”
Casting a glance over her shoulder, Florence shook her head as her mother beckoned to her. Her only intention at present was to find Helena again and to stay as far away from her mother as she could, regardless of the consequences.
“Florence!”
Ignoring this, Florence continued on. She did not rush. She did not begin to hurry her steps. Rather, she made her way slowly through the crowd, knowing that her mother would not break into a run to find her.
“Florence!”
This time, the exclamation was met with a sudden shove.
Something or someone pushed into her back, and Florence went stumbling forward.
Arms outstretched, she knocked into one person and then the next before, much to her horror, falling directly into the servant who was carrying one side of the cake.
She herself managed to keep her footing, but the cake was another matter.
The servant fell, and the cake went with him.
It scattered itself across the ballroom floor as gasps of horror and exclamations of shock echoed around the room.
Florence did not know what to do. She stood staring at the cake, at the mess that she had created.
Tears threatened, but she steeled herself and turned away from the mess.
Weaving her way through the crowd, Florence hurried towards the door, desperate now to leave Lord Applegate's townhouse and find her refuge in the carriage home.
“Whatever happened?” she heard someone say, her face burning with shame. “Who did such a ridiculous thing?”
Quite sure that her name would soon be spread around the ballroom as being the one responsible, Florence ducked her head.
No matter what it was, she felt for Lord Applegate, there could be no reprieve for this.
She had ruined his evening. The ball was now a complete disaster, and it was all her own fault.
She should not have run from her mother.
Yes, frustration had burned at her, but could she not have tolerated it?
Had she only lingered and allowed her mother's words to wash over her, then she would not have been stepping away from her company, and none of this would have happened. Exactly who it was that had knocked into her so she fell into the cake, Florence did not know, but all the same, the blame would be set at her feet. There was nothing left for her here. She had ruined the Marquess’ Christmas ball and no doubt, her own Christmas season.
Perhaps it was time to return home for good.