Free Desperate and Daring 02 - Belle of the Ball by Ella J. Quince Page A

There were no specific plans except morning calls and what not.
    It was already well past breakfast, so Anabelle rang for a tray and continued to stare at her canopy until it arrived. She dragged herself from the bed when the maid arrived and tried to muster some energy to dress. The maid entered followed by another with a large bouquet of flowers. Anabelle paused in her slide from her bed and stared.
    “Who are those from?”
    Her maid shrugged. “There’s plenty more where this came from, ma’am. The drawing room is overflowing!”
    Anabelle’s eyes widened. “All for me?”
    The maid snickered. “Lady Hazel has her fair share of blooms. You both must have made quite an impression with your costumes.”
    Anabelle slipped into her wrapper and inspected the flowers. There was a card. She opened it, eyebrows nearly touching her hairline at the awful poem inside and then the signature. “Lord Meyers?” she said in disbelief. She couldn’t recall being introduced to a Lord Meyers.
    Anabelle was lured away from the flowers by the scent of bacon. Her stomach growled. She abandoned her curiosity long enough to clear her plate of the eggs, bacon, and toast, then finished dressing before going downstairs. She slowed as a footman was carrying a bouquet into the drawing room. She entered warily and paused. The room looked more like a flower shop than a drawing room. Her mother was flitting from flower to flower like a delighted bee.
    “They won’t stop coming,” Hazel said from the settee, obviously beleaguered.
    Anabelle couldn’t see her past the side table overflowing with arrangements. “I am at a loss.” She wandered over to her sister and peeked at some of the cards. “Oh! What lovely sentiments from Mr. Gainsby. He is very fond of your eyes, Hazel,” Anabelle teased.
    Hazel groaned. “I don’t even know if I danced with him last night. I’m not sure who any of the gentlemen were that I danced with.”
    “Relax, Hazel,” their mother chimed. “This is marvelous. You both will have your pick of the most eligible gentlemen this season if these flowers are any indication.”
    “It’s Anabelle’s fault. She wore that risqué dress only to impress one man.”
    Lady Wellsford turned and gave Anabelle a look. “Don’t think that didn’t pass my notice last night. That was not the costume I approved.”
    “The gentlemen certainly approved of it,” Hazel grumbled.
    “Half these flowers are for you,” Anabelle reminded her. She joined her mother in reading cards. She couldn’t remember seeing any of these gentlemen last night.
    “We should prepare for a busy afternoon of calls.” Their mother trilled. Anabelle bit her lip nervously while Hazel groaned.
    The door knocker pounded again and Hazel collapsed against the back of the settee. Anabelle smiled at her dramatics. Wilton came in with a box and presented it to Anabelle.
    “What is this?” She took the box and went to sit beside Hazel, who sat up in curiosity. Anabelle opened the box and gasped. It was a crown of flowers, like they used to make as girls—white clover and sweet pea to be precise.
    “Well, that is certainly out of the norm. Whatever could it mean?” Lady Wellsford looked over their shoulder.
    Anabelle shrugged. “I haven’t the slightest idea.”
    “Now this I actually like.” Hazel picked up the crown and set it on Anabelle’s head. “Very becoming on you.” She giggled.
    Anabelle smiled and put the crown back in its box. “Tis a shame it won’t last very long. How on earth are we to keep the flowers alive longer than a day?”
    “Let it dry and it will be a keepsake,” Lady Wellsford offered.
    Anabelle carefully closed the box. She wasn’t sure what it would signify if she didn’t know whom it was from.
    “What is the matter, Hazel? Don’t you want to be pursued by gentlemen?” Lady Wellsford put a hand on Hazels shoulder. Hazel looked fit to be tied.
    “I want to be pursued by one gentleman, not hordes of