“This is not funny,” Beatrice insisted. She felt the flower on her head flop around as she shook her head and groaned as Algernon let out another burst of laughter.
“The ensemble was supposed to disguise who I am,” she insisted.
“Oh, with all those cosmetics it certainly does,” Algernon retorted. His laughter was finally starting to die down, but that annoyingly handsome grin of his was still spread wide across his face.
“This is too much,” she insisted. “It will draw too much attention. People will be watching my every move! And even if Henry does refuse to speak of who I am, this costume will certainly urge people to investigate in other ways.”
Algernon’s grin slowly faded as did the mirth in his eyes as he looked her over once again.
“You have a point,” he replied, his tone suddenly grim. “I apologize for laughing. I did not think of such things when I first saw you. Come, we will go downstairs and meet Henry. Hopefully we can convince him to tone this?—”
He paused, gesturing toward her with his hand.
“Tone this all down a bit,” he finished.
Relief poured through Beatrice’s chest, and she sighed as she closed her eyes and nodded.
“Yes. Please,” she pled.
“Come,” he encouraged, offering her his arm.
Though still annoyed with him, she looped her arm around his and let him escort her down the hall.
“I am sorry for laughing,” he said as they headed for the stairs.
Beatrice rolled her eyes before they landed on him with a wry look.Of course,he was smirking again.
“You are not,” she countered bitterly. “I have never heard you make such sounds before.”
“Well, I have never such an ensemble as this before,” he said with a chuckle then a sincerity bloomed in his eyes as his smirk settled into a soft smile. “It is a bit much,” he confessed. “However, that does not take away from the fact that you still look quite lovely.”
Beatrice narrowed her eyes at him.
“Thank you,” she said begrudgingly.
As they reached the stairs, she heard a gasp, and as she looked down them—even though it could not be seen through the layers of powder on her face—Beatrice paled.
Henry’s ensemble was as elaborate as hers. A racket of colorful flowers seemed to have exploded all over his jacket. Even his shoes had blooms sewn onto them. Unlike her, he stood tall and straight in his clothes, as if very proud to wear them.
“Beatrice,” Henry breathed as Algernon escorted her down the stairs, “You look far more gorgeous than even I imagined! The dress is a vision on you!”
Beatrice paused at the compliment, nearly losing her footing as Algernon continued on, and she felt some of her urgency wane. The genuineness in his tone and the obvious excitement in his sage green eyes were too much. Too eager, too joyful to trample on despite her own insecurities.
“Actually, brother,” Algernon began to say as they reached the bottom of the stairs then he let out a stifledoomphas Beatrice sent her elbow into his ribs before letting go of his arm.
Henry had his hands outstretched to her, and she went to him, drawing on the sincerest smile she could.
“Gorgeous, absolutely gorgeous, my darling Beatrice,” Henry praised, shaking his head as if in disbelief. “You look positively transformed.”
“Into a cake,” Algernon muttered behind her, and it took every ounce of Beatrice’s will not to drop her smile and turn to him with a glare.
Henry had heard his brother though, and the wide smile on his lips faded a little.
“What is the matter?” he asked, giving her hands a gentle squeeze. “You do not like it?”
“I did not say that,” she answered quickly. This time she did glare over her shoulder at Algernon. He did not laugh again, thankfully, but he did raise a curious brow as he pressed his lips together in a tight line.
“By, by myself, umm… I thought it was a bit too much,” she stammered out, turning to face Henry again with a renewed smile. “However, now that I am by your side, it seems very appropriate.”