Romancing a Wallflower

of her sister’s chair.
Lilian lifted her arms and allowed Lydia to pull her to a standing position as Lord Yarstone exchanged the chairs behind her, allowing her to settle into the wheel-chair. I hate this part. It is humiliating. She mustered a faint smile, a false smile, but a smile all the same. She would not give them anything to talk about on purpose. She could only imagine the number of people watching the awkward exit. Lydia claimed she would walk again, pointing out her ability to stand. Frankly, Lilian understood none of it. She felt trapped in this chair. Lord Yarstone waited until she was seated and then escorted their small party to their carriage.
A little over an hour later, the girls were back at their father’s town house, in their suite of rooms. Lilian liked the fact that Father and Mama had made their rooms into adjoining apartments. Each had their own bedroom with a small retiring area attached, joined together by a larger private parlour. As children, this room lent itself as a small nursery or room for their nurse, should their health demand it. Lilian’s rooms were in subtle tones of blues while her sister’s rooms were pink.
“Lilian, once I have changed my gown, I will come back. Do not expect me not to beg for all the details. You must tell me.”
“Really, Lydia…there is little to say,” Lilian responded.
“Nonsense. Do not prevaricate. There is much to comment on. I watched you.” Triumph gleamed in her eyes. “I only wish the steps of the dance would have brought us closer to where you were sitting, so I would not have to wait.”
Lilian winced. “You would not have heard a thing. The music was loud,” she murmured. “Besides, since we are on the subject, I noticed Lord Yarstone’s particular attentions towards you. Mayhap we should place bets on what type of flower he will send tomorrow. He must get up very early, as I think on it, to buy all the white roses in Town.
“White roses are lovely and convey such beautiful messages. Do you remember the halls full of flowers we had last year?” Lilian reflected, musing aloud about the bouquets the two of them had received the previous Season.
“And you will soon have flowers again, my beautiful sister,” Lydia retorted. “Heed my words,” she added in a prophetic tone.
“I love the roses he brings you. I cannot wait to see what tomorrow brings,” Lilian murmured, as much to herself as to her sister.
“I hope ’tis nothing too romantic. I am not sure I want to commit myself to any gentleman this early in the Season.” Lydia’s voice trailed after her as she left the room—leaving Lilian to her thoughts.
The door to her bedchamber opened again and Clara entered, followed by two younger housemaids carrying water and a tray. She stoked the fire and then addressed the two underlings.
“Abby, do fill the basin with fresh water, please? Mary, my girl, put the camomile tea and biscuits on the table next to Lady Lilian’s bed if you will.” The maids did as bid and left. Clara was always very respectful in her dealings with the other maids. The servants all loved her—the women, especially because of her many kindnesses towards them. Every Christmas, she added a small box of treats to their gift, usually ribbons, which she had purchased with her own money throughout the year and tucked away for the festivity.
“My lady, how did you enjoy the ball?” Clara made quick work of removing Lilian’s hair pins and jewellery, carefully tucking her grandmother’s pearls back into the jewellery case.
“It was lovely. Greenery formed delicate corner arches that gave the impression that the room was rounded. The pale wooden floors shown like mirrors under the light of hundreds of beeswax candles. It was a crush and quite warm.” Lilian tried to describe the room, but all she could think about was a tall, handsome soldier in his dashing red uniform.
She efficiently unlaced the back of Lilian’s dress and lifted it over her head.
“I can brush out my hair, Clara. You have so much to do after these affairs, especially now.”
“Nonsense, m’lady. It is my great pleasure to see to both of my beautiful girls. What I would nay give to be a fly on the wall to hear the accounts of this evening, seeing the smiles the both of ye are wearing.”
“Saucebox!” Lilian playfully admonished her childhood nurse. The twins’ relationship with Clara had grown close over the years and she never hesitated to voice her opinion, a habit Mama abhorred. However, being accustomed to Clara’s forthright ways, Lydia and Lilian would think it odd if she did not speak her mind, so much like a second mother had she become.
“I heard ye had a gentleman ask for an introduction.” The older woman clicked her tongue softly and smiled.
“Who told you?” Lilian’s face heated. “I have not even discussed it with Lydia. Yes, Lord Harlow asked Mama to make me known to him.”
“Oh, the gentleman who saved your life? A true prince, to be sure. He is a good-looking chap! I declare, I should be mighty glad to receive him. Asked to meet you, did he?” Clara’s eyes twinkled. “I have heard he has asked after you each time he visits your father.”
Servants always talk. Yet who could have told her so soon? Mama! Lilian should know better than to be surprised.
“Clara, I shall tell Lydia in a few moments. Indeed, I shall receive no sleep otherwise.”
Clara tittered. “’Tis enough to know there is more, m’lady. I shall be away to your sister, for I fear she will be fit to burst, waiting to hear all about it.” She gently chucked her charge under the chin and scurried off to help Lydia, leaving Lilian feeling a myriad emotions. She was excited—and it scared her. To be sure, she had met with many young gentlemen…however, that had been last year. Not since she had had her accident, and