"Samantha, dear, you can't be serious." Helena glanced up from her embroidery boop, staring at Samantha as though her

granddaughter had declared she was the queen of Egypt

"You can't possibly do such a terrible thing to that young man."

Samantha glanced out one of the windows in the drawing room. A Summer breeze rippled across her mother's rose garden, blossoms of white and yellow and pink bobbing in

the sunlight, dripping perfume into the warm current of air

"I can assure you, Grandmama, I am quite serious."

"Impossible." Helena jabbed her needle through the white linen handkerchief held taut in her wooden loop.

" I will not send that...