Chapter 7

Annalise was dressed in a rosy pink dress which complemented her skin nicely, radiating her youthful glow. Clara put up her strawberry blonde curls and tied them up with silk ribbons. She drew her brows like distant mountains and added a minute amount of rouge to Annalise's cheeks to help enhance their natural colour. When she was done, she went to the drawing-room, and her sweet scent followed her like ants would do sugar.

George poured himself a cup of tea as she walked in.

"My precious flower. How are you doing this morning?"

"Very well, papa, thank you." She kissed him on the cheek.

"You look gorgeous and smell lovely too." He smiled.

"Thank you, papa." Annalise sat on one of the couches in the centre of the room, expecting her visitors. George was going to be her chaperone for today. He had already busied himself at a corner with his newspaper, a few books and a cup of tea.

Soon after, the doors were finally opened, and the first gentleman that walked in was someone whom she was already acquainted with.

"Miss Beacroft, thank you for seeing me." He bowed.

"The pleasure is all mine, Lord Patterson ." She stood up, lowering herself into a curtsy.

"I brought you flowers. I was unsure which one you would like, so I just brought my favourite. I hope you would like them,"

"Ha…tchew." Annalise sneezed as he revealed a large peony cluster behind him. She took a step back.

"Is anything the matter, miss?" He looked concerned and also confused.

Annalise held her handkerchief against her nose. Her eyes welled up as she sneezed again. "I am severely allergic to peonies."

"Take them away at once," George commanded, getting up immediately as he intervened. The footmen quickly rushed to dispose of the bunch. This was just one of the twenty-six gentlemen Annalise had entertained, and things were already going wrong. If this was not a good sign, then she wondered what was.

It took a while for Annalise to regain her composure. When she finally did, they were able to have a conversation. Although it was only one, she could not remember by the time the second guest walked in.

"Good day, sir." Annalise curtsied once again.

"Miss Beacroft." He bowed. "You are always much more beautiful up close." He said, his eyes never leaving hers as he looked at her with awe and wonder.

Annalise heard George clear his throat in the background while he vigorously shuffled through his newspapers. Despite the young man being the son of his old friend, she could tell he disapproved.

"You flatter me with your compliment, kind, sir." She looked away when she could hold his gaze no longer. "Would you like some tea, Mr Wellington?"

"I would love some." He said.

"Very well" Annalise turned to the tray beside her and picked up a teacup. "How do you like your tea?

"Three cubes of sugar with full cream." He replied.

"Please, sit." She said as she fixed them both a cup of tea.

He complied. "Here you go." Annalise handed it to him, and his fingers brushed hers. Like one is averse to fire on the skin, she withdrew immediately. Her entire body was flooded with goosebumps as it always was anytime she felt nervous or uncomfortable.

"Lovely weather we are having." Mr Wellington finally broke the silence.

"Yes, lovely." She replied curtly and sipped her tea.

"I do not know which is lovelier, the fine weather or my lady seated in front of me." His eyes searched her's and his intense gaze burned holes through her. Annalise lowered her eyes, finding something interesting in her tea. She found this man rather impetuous.

"If we were not having this meeting, what would you be doing on a fine day such as this?" He asked.

"Well, I'd be outdoors or reading," Annalise said.

"I see." He looked amused. "Poetry or works of literature on romance?"

Annalise slowly faced him. "No, not romance literature. I would read books which would help build my mind." She affirmed strongly.

"Oh no, why would you ever want to do that? It would be too much for you to handle." He said with a scowl, like the thought of a woman reading books of great importance was abominable and unheard of.

Her brows furrowed in confusion as she sat straighter, setting her teacup aside." It would be abominable because…I am not of the male gender?"

His eyes widened. "No, that is not what I-

Annalise interjected, "If a man busies himself with books, seeking out the knowledge within a great many pages, he is praised as a scholar, but if a woman does it..." Annalise was disgusted. She had found this man intolerable and wished not to speak with him further.

"I believe, kind sir, it is time to take your leave." Annalise signalled to the footmen who were on standby.

"Miss Beacroft," His voice cracked, and his eyes were wide with panic, but Annalise spared him not one glance.

"Please show Mr Wellington out." She commanded.

Once the drawing room was rid of Mr Wellington, time passed as she entertained her other visitors. They marched in one after the other, and the time she spent with them proved that she would never be happy if she married any of them.

Malachi Shaw, a duke in his own right, was a pompous, proud and highly arrogant man. He hardly let her get a word in their entire conversation. Benedict Holland only saw her as a viable instrument for childbearing. He expressed he was searching for a woman with wide enough hips for childbirth, and he desired to have at least ten strapping young boys one day, ten!

On the other hand, Adam Maguire said he would be at sea a lot. It would mean more freedom for her, but what was the point of starting a family when you would be absent for most of it? All these were candidates worth speaking about, the others she had eliminated and crossed off her list. What a complete waste of her day.