Chapter 3
I looked at myself in the mirror.
The blue silk didn't wash out my face like the brown did, and Holmes was right; the blue did bring out my gray eyes a bit. I smiled to myself when a knock came at the door.
"Phynix?" John walked in holding a small box. He looked me up and down.
I shrugged. "Well?
He smiled. "Beautiful, as always. But I have something that would add to the beauty."
He handed me the box. I opened it and looked inside. A small, golden, oval-shaped locket was inside. The boarder was lined with small flowers.
I looked up at him and smiled. "It's gorgeous, John!"
He took it out of the box and opened it up.
"I thought you could put a picture of you in there, then your future husband."
I glared up at him. "John, can we not focus on finding me a husband? That's all you seem to be worried about."
He smiled. "Just joking with you, Phyni."
I pushed him slightly.
I looked around the ballroom. I spotted Mary sitting, waving her hand slightly.
"Mary! How are you?" I hugged her and smiled.
"Phynix. You look just as great as last summer when we visited you in Millbrook."
I smiled and thanked her. "So, see any 'potential husbands? Even though I don't need any." I looked around.
"There is a fellow I found quite dashing." She pointed across the room and smiled.
I followed her finger and saw him. His dark brown hair cross over his green eyes, which looked like emeralds.
I turned, almost bumping into Holmes.
"Holmes. I didn't know you'd be joining us." I said.
John looked at him suspiciously. "Neither did I."
He bowed his head. "I thought I'd help you out with the potential husband find. And I was invited anyways."
He looked around. "Who knows? He might be closer than you think." He winked and I smirked at him.
About two hours in, I still had no luck. I turned to Holmes.
"Do you wish to dance?" Mary and John looked at me sternly, since it was frowned upon for a lady to ask a man to dance.
He smiled, not noticing them, and nodded. "Of course."
He took my hand and we made our way to the floor. I put my arm on his shoulder as he put his on my waist.
"I know you weren't invited." I said quietly.
"What makes you say that?" I looked down at his shoes.
"Well, for one, your shoes are scuffed, intending that you were running. Number two, the odor radiating from your body smells like horse poop, meaning that you were trying to catch a carriage, which means that you hadn't scheduled one to pick you up at the house. Number three, you have dirt running up your pant's legs, meaning you most likely snuck in by crawling under or through something." I looked up at him.
He raised an eyebrow. "Very observant. John warned me about that, saying it was one of your many… terrible traits." His brown eyes flickered.
"Terrible? Well I've always thought it to be an amazing trait."
He smirked back, then looked around. "That fellow Mary picked out is going to lose his house, very soon."
I looked back at the man. "True. His nails are bitten down to the nub, indicating stress."
"His suit's cheap, and he keep fidgeting, which means he's used to more cottony, roomy, expensive ones."
"His wallet's flat, and worn out, which means it's empty, but had been emptied recently."
He looked down at me. "And his hair." He kept eye contact.
"It's greasy, meaning he hasn't taken a shower in a while." I bit my lip after I spoke, my heart beating faster.
He leaned down and whispered in my ear. "And his shoes."
I whispered back. "They've been worn out. He needs new ones, but can't afford them."
He leaned back. "It's definitely not a bad trait, now is it?" He twirled me around, trying not to break eye contact.
"You know, most men that I meet, feel intimidated that I know where they've been."
He shook his head. "That's not me."
"No?"
"No."
