Princess of the Midnight Ball - Jessica Day George [37]
In the hothouse with the experimental roses, she ran into Head Gardener Orm. He gave her a grim nod as he carefully inspected the leaves of the pink-and-scarlet rosebush. She tried not to look too guilty, certain that he knew about Galen cutting one of the flowers for her, and backed out.
She wandered, disconsolate, into the other hothouses, but couldn’t find Galen. She wasn’t even sure why she was looking for him, but she was sick to death of her sisters, and there was no one else near her age in the palace. Anne, their governess, had always been the girls’ confidant, but it was lesson time. And even had Anne been free, Rose did not feel the need to seek her out as strongly as she longed to speak with Galen.
“Rose! Rose! Rose!”
The younger set came tumbling across the winter-brown lawns to meet her. They were red-cheeked from the cold, their hair and cloaks flying. Rose judged that they had just been released from their lessons for the day.
“Rosie-rosie-rose-rose,” sang Orchid. “You have a present!”
“I want a present too,” Pansy said, pouting. “Where’s my present?”
“It is not your birthday,” Petunia said with great authority. “There are only presents on your birthday and the holidays.”
“But it’s not Rose’s birthday either,” Orchid said, dancing around Rose. “That’s what makes it an extra-special present.”
All the dancing and pouting and singing, after her long walk across the gardens and back, was making Rose tired. She took hold of Pansy with one hand and Orchid with the other and continued walking back to the palace. Petunia followed obediently.
“Now,” said Rose when they had calmed down. “What’s this about a present?”
The younger set could only babble that one of the maids had been given the present by a tall young man who said it was for Rose. When they reached the princesses’ apartments, Poppy filled in the details.
“One of the under-gardeners sent you a present,” she said, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “I think you can guess which one, can’t you?” She shook back her dark hair. “No guesses? Well, it was the handsome one. The young, handsome one with the broad shoulders. The one who fancies you. What’s his name again? Oh, yes! Galen!”
Her twin, Daisy, frowned. “He doesn’t fancy Rose,” she said earnestly. “It’s impossible: he’s a commoner.”
Rose brushed aside that remark.
“What about Heinrich and Lily?” Poppy’s eyes sparked with challenge.
“May I see my present?” Rose interrupted, not wanting to stir up old heartaches even though Lily wasn’t there. Thinking of the handsome young soldier—so like Galen in appearance—gave her a pang. She knew Lily still grieved for him. Rose gave a significant look to the package, neatly wrapped in brown paper, that Poppy was holding.
The younger girl handed it over, and Rose took it to her favorite divan by the window. Her sisters followed her. Rose gave them another look. The younger set didn’t understand, but Poppy did. With a sigh, she pulled them away, taking her twin with her. They sat on the other side of the sitting room, watching Rose.
Realizing that was as much privacy as she was going to get, Rose turned her attention to the package. It was lightweight and soft within the crackling paper. It had been tied with yarn rather than string, pretty red wool that gave it a festive appearance. She untied the wool and folded back the paper. Out of the corner of her eye Rose saw Poppy half rise from the couch, craning her neck to see what the package contained.
It was a shawl. A triangular cobweb of soft white wool, warm and light. The shape of a flower had been worked into the back. Rose held it up and heard her sisters gasp. A folded letter fell to her lap. She let the shawl drape across her knees and opened the letter.
She read,
Your Highness,
I thought you might need this, as the days are getting colder. White will look good with your hair, and the scarlet ball gown I’ve seen you wear in the evenings. I hope it