“Mr. Bradley has arrived,” came Ruby’s muffled voice through Concordia’s door. Concordia hesitated. Carefully, she removed her spectacles again and put them in her reticule. She gathered up her other accoutrements—gloves, shawl, Mr. Bradley’s flowers—and headed for the parlor.
The orchid was left behind to perfume an empty room.
Mr. Bradley’s eyes widened when Concordia walked into the parlor. He tried not to stare as he admired the way her gown clung to the curves of her torso and hips. Her cheeks were becomingly flushed, and soft wisps of coppery hair framed her face.
He cleared his throat. “You look—most fetching, Miss Wells,” he said at last. Recovering, he said with a twinkle, “I will have my hands full tonight, beating off your ardent admirers.”
She gave a laugh. “Thank y
