A month had passed since the Titiana Bloom and Victor had been here and there in London and magical Britain. This morning he walked briskly and aimlessly through the finer part of the city, that also contained the Freys' townhouse. The young gentleman had big green eyes that often looked about in an unfocused manner, like he was struggling to wake up from a dream. He found himself taking a few strange turns until he stood at the high walls that surrounded the gardens of a different grand house than intended. It belonged to the DeCroix family.

Victor Frey had not forgotten the events of the afternoon at the flower exhibition. He even told his valet about them:
“My heart was pounding. I was gazing up at her and my face was flushed with heat. Am I in love?” he had asked.
“It might have been the plant poisoning,” his valet had responded in a guarded manner. Victor was not in the habit of paying him much mind.

Now he approached the iron gate that led to the gardens. Peering through the gap between the doors, he saw the girl. She was meandering around the gardens in a pink sundress. She was alone.
Excitedly, he looked up at the door. It was tall, but he was tall.
Victor jumped, grabbed the upper edge of the gate, and scrambled upwards until his head peered over the top, making some noise in the process.
“Miss DeCroix! Over here!” he called out. His head above the gate showed a wide smile, his eyes glinting mischievously. He flung one arm over to steady himself.
“Did you get the flowers I sent you?”

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   Violetta DeCroix