I paced in my chambers, between the doorway and my bed— glancing every few minutes at the third bouquet of anonymously sent flowers to arrive today. Who on earth were they from? It had me in an utterly puzzled state, indeed it did. I was certain that they were sent by the same person; it was always the same arrangement of chrysanthemums and forget-me-nots. But whom could it be that sent them? Sighing, but managing to keep an expression of irritation off my face, I left the room. Having to see them so frequently would only increase my frustration, and that surely couldn't be good for my complexion.

I continued walking until I reached the family dining room. Whenever I was feeling particularly irritated, be it with my maid or with any of the suitors, I liked to come here and look at the portraits we had of my family. I started with my thrice-great grandparents' portrait on the left of the door, and went all the way around, five to a wall, until I reached a portrait of my youngest brother. Tracing my steps for a few paces, I went back to the portrait of my mother. She was beautiful, that much was utterly obvious. She had a well-balanced face, with rosy cheeks and pearly teeth. A true gem, my father liked to say. 'Twas a true shame she was dead, now.

I remembered most of what she was like—my good memory coupled with the fact that she passed away less than two years ago. Her portrait was accurate to the length of her eyelashes, and I liked to think that you could see happiness shining in her eyes. She was always happy, it seemed to me. Always laughing, the twittering of a swallow. Her laugh was magnificent.

I scrunched my eyes shut, likely causing myself to look like an overworked mule. How upsetting.

"Lady Rosaline!" The doorman.

Painting a sweet smile on my face, I flitted away from the portrait and out the door, only to stop short when I saw what was in his hands. Another bouquet. I only got the last one an hour ago! Keeping the smile carefully on my face, I made a quick decision.

"Harold, do you think it would be easy for a... maid... for example, to begin a rumour?"

He looked slightly puzzled, but replied anyway. Poor man. "I… I s'pose so, Milady. "

My smile lost its insincerity, and widened. "Thank-you, Harold. Truly."

Before he replied, I gently took the bouquet and skittered into the kitchen.

"Eliza!" It was no time to be ladylike, I was on a mission. "Here, now! Please?" There was no point being rude, though.

"Lady Capulet?" God bless the girl's haste.

"Eliza! I wish for you to hurry to the Market, I have an errand for you."

"Certainly, Milady. If I may inquire...?"

I tittered at my own folly. "Of course, my apologies. I wish for you to start a rumour." At the shock in her eyes, giggled a little. "I want you to make everybody think, that I intend on being a Nun!"

If this didn't stop the bouquets, I couldn't imagine anything that would. Today was a good day.