Six Little Sunflowers: Historical Romance Novella (American State Flower) Read Online Free

wait for a lady to recognize him first on the street. This privilege of recognition is her prerogative. Especially is this the case if he is simply the acquaintance of a single evening’s entertainment.
    ~ Social Life; or The Manners and Customs of Polite Society
     
     
    “Y OU HAVE NO IDEA WHO I AM , do you?” Félicie blurted, and then realized how snooty her question sounded, how her words implied she was someone of importance. Which was not true. She was someone of non-importance. He had no reason to know who she was. They were not in the same social sphere. She was the help. He was the town’s hero. He saved lives. She cleaned toilets.
    He gave her a strange look, as if she were an oddity. In light of her most recent comment, that was fair. It was.
    And then he shrugged.
    Félicie blinked. Really? Of all the...
    With a growl under her breath, she lifted her chin. He would not get the best of her. “Shrugs can be an ineffective means of communication. The shrugger assumes the person to whom the shrug was conveyed will understand correctly what the shrug means. Sometimes this does occur, especially if people know each other well. In this instance, sir, I have no idea what your shrug was meant to imply; thus, I am sorry to say, your attempt at communication has failed.”
    “Carp?” A policeman strolled up. “Is there a problem?”
    He said nothing. Not at first. He stared and stared and stared at her. Then—
    “Nah, Seth. I got this.”
    Félicie kept her face bland. Rolling her eyes at him would not be good form.
    The police officer’s brown-eyed gaze shifted in her direction. The corner of his mouth quirked upward creating a dimple that, she was sure, he knew caused ladies to swoon. Or at least pledge undying devotion. “Well, now seeing how it’s my job to keep watch over the civilians—this time, my friend, I got this.” He tipped his hat then struck his hand out. “Sergeant Seth Beaufoy.”
    Beaufoy? She seemed to recall Rena attended last year’s Flower Parade with a policeman named Beaufoy. Delightful had been Rena’s summarization of the parade. Flatteries as polished as the brass buttons on his dark uniform had been her summarization of the officer.
    Sergeant Beaufoy looked at her quizzically. “Can I help you, Miss...?”
    Félicie shook his hand. To not do so would be rude on her part. Thankfully, etiquette did not require she share her name. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Sergeant Beaufoy. Could you direct me to the building’s owners?”
    “Are you friends with Miss Laurent?” he asked, still shaking her hand. “Or family?”
    “I know her.” Félicie smiled because, in her experience, a smile distracted people from realizing she had not answered their question. Smiling rested nicer on her conscience than lying did.
    Yes, there was that, too.
    “I have business with Madame Laurent,” she explained.
    “Oh, yes, of course.” Sergeant Beaufoy flashed her another one of those swoon-inciting grins that, strangely, made her want to chuckle. “They make clothes, you wear clothes, et cetera, et cetera.” He waved at nothing in particular. It struck her that even if he realized the clothes she wore were not items Madame Laurent would make or sell, he would not care. Why that made her sad, she had no idea.
    “Seth, let her go.”
    “Carp, be honest. Does she look like she wants me to let her go?” Sergeant Beaufoy winked, and her cheeks felt as warm as the hand he continued to hold. “I think she doesn’t.”
    Félicie looked to Captain Yeary. Unlike Sergeant Seth Beaufoy, he wore no smile. He looked down his perfectly straight nose at her. What was that supposed to mean? If she were she Pearl or Alta, she would know how to respond. Rena would know how to respond. Rena knew how to flirt and be coy and how to interpret a man’s glances, winks, and shrugs. Even Mama Helaine could, and she was fifty!
    But for the last twelve years, Mama Helaine and Rena had not lived in a hotel or