The headdress towered above her head. Annabeth had built it up as high as it would go. Then she’d divided Scarlet’s hair into even sections, inserting fabric to help it hold its shape. At the very top, sections of her hair rounded and billowed out into a large bow, standing higher than Matteo. His eyes travelled upward in order to see the very top of it.

“You may laugh. Of course my presentation is ridiculous but not so dreadful when you remember that someone actually imagined it up. I’m quite proud of it; genius, I daresay.”

“Too true. Only a genius could think up something of this nature. I will never argue with your great mind. Now, shall we venture below? Greet our guests so that we may all the sooner bid them adieu?”

She stepped closer to him. “Thank you, my husband, for all of this. I too find I am anxious for everyone to leave. But never fear. We have the rest of our lives to linger and love and enjoy each other.” She leaned closer to him and whispered, “Would that we could run up these stairs and begin right now.” She recognized the returning fire in his gaze. Breathing in slowly, she turned and placed a hand on his arm.

Everyone they’d invited had come. The ballroom, gardens, library, and drawing rooms all overflowed with happy conversation and music. Scarlet enjoyed two dances with her love and then rarely saw him again during the next two hours.

Seeking a moment, even a touch of his hand, she made her way through the house with a hope to encounter him. She moved slowly, stopping by anyone she passed. All gushed over her adornments, wondered if Annabeth could show their own ladies maids how to accomplish such a hairstyle. At length, she determined to give up her search and return to the ballroom, surely the most likely place to reencounter Matteo.

Simon approached her, an urgency in his face he rarely displayed. Her own gaze sharpened, and she felt a familiar speeding of her heart. He tapped his elbow once before commenting on the weather and the lovely wedding and the flowers. He wished to talk to her immediately. Her eyes held a question, but she tittered in a nonsensical way. “Oh, Lord Devereaux, why of course you must see the roses. They have bloomed and smell divine. Pick your favorites for Franny. Was she able to make it this evening?”

She placed her hand on his elbow, and he walked as quickly as their charade would allow.

Simon glanced all around them, pointedly avoiding the small clusters of people also sharing the gardens. “Here we are. Do tell me about how you came to find all these different varieties, my lady.”