“Red anemones, purple-veined tulips, and white narcissi, forced in some nurseryman's succession houses, lay scattered over papers on a polished table in the blue withdrawing room. Roddy placed another tulip in the tall Florentine vase she was rilling, and watched with resignation as the flower drooped awkwardly and then fell out of the vase, taking two anemones along. She wasn't very good at flowers. Unfortunately, though Minshall had brought her the floral offering with a gloomy face, u...nderneath his surface expression had been every expectation of pleasure and praise. Roddy hadn't had the heart to suggest that any maid in the house could do a better job of arranging. She picked up a spray of narcissus and gave it a dubious frown. "Lovely," came Faelan's low voice from the open doorway. Roddy half turned, and smiled at him over her shoulder. "You're too gallant, sir," she said. She glanced back at the sagging cluster in the half-filled vase.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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