So far, the night had passed with relative uneventfulness. Most of it, I had either accompanied Mom to our round of mandatory hellos, danced or gone to chat with my own friends, mostly daughters of people Mom and Dad were acquainted with, who were close to my age.
As Mrs. Hamilton had predicted, I did see Philip from afar at one point. However, he had not seen me. He was talking entertainingly with a pair of young women I'm sure I knew from somewhere. It did seem like he had grown a couple of inches since the last time I saw him. Either that, or the confidence with which he carried himself allowed him to overshadow the people with whom he was.
But then again, he always seemed confident. It was inherent of him.
Once the evening becomes a little too much for me, I usually like to take a break from the madness and wander around the gardens for a while. This was a habit hard to break, especially upon the realization that the gardens surrounding the ballrooms we usually attended were of captivating beauty. The moonlight allowed for the water in the fountains to shine with special brightness, and for the flowers to bloom delicately. Their magnificence was not so obvious at nighttime, since their colors were not able to vibrate the same way they could under the sun, but they were still a force to be reckoned with.
I was looking at the peonies when I heard someone approaching me. Well, not me, rather, they were approaching the area I was in. They did not even seem to notice me.
By the time the silhouette was close enough to me, it was clear who it was.
"Mr. Hamilton," I said, accompanying my greeting with a curtsy.
"Miss Burr," he responded, realizing my presence. "I didn't even see you there."
"Oh, well, admittedly, I was somewhat hidden. I like checking on theses flowers a little too much for my own good."
"They are quite nice," he paused. "Wait, Miss Burr, does that mean you know your way around this garden?"
"I guess I do."
"So perhaps you could help me?"
"Depends, on what?"
"I need to find a rose."
"Well, the roses are a little further on the back. Come, I'll show you."
With that, we both began to walk, Philip following my stride. With every step, curiosity took a bit more of me. What did he need a rose for?
The only thing stopping me from asking was the idea my father wouldn't like it. I could almost picture him disapproving of it in my mind. He had always taught me to be discrete, especially around the Hamiltons.
Still, we were a couple of steps away from our destiny and my interest couldn't be diminished.
"What is it for, if I may ask?"
"Uh," he stumbled to find an answer. "It's for a… friend."
With that, I understood it all. I should have known, after all, that was the kind of person Philip was: one with many friends. Lady friends, at that.
"Oh. Well then, you've come to the right place. The roses here are the most beautiful I've ever seen," I said with a smile, as we finally approached them.
"Now, I guess you would want one that's fully bloomed," I found one resembling what I was thinking of and pointed it to him. "Perhaps this one?"
"Yes, I think that one would work," he paused, studying it carefully. "You like it, right?"
"Well, personally, I would go for something like an aster, as they're sweet rather than purely romantic. But that's just me. Objectively, a rose like this is lovely."
"Perfect," Philip said, as he tore it. "Thank you very much, Miss Burr."
With this, he bowed and hurried inside. I was left looking at him as he walked away, trying to understand what had just occurred.