Julian's lips curled up into a sheepish sort of smile. "You think my mother isn't difficult now," he said, and took a step closer, leaning in as though to reveal a secret, "but just you wait until you're married. That's when she'll pounce." Delia Fisk was a good woman and a loving mother, but with as many children in their family she'd created her own methods to manage them all—methods that, at times, made her a little high-strung.

"I might as well bring the marigolds myself," he offered, turning to the door in search of them, "as my presence may distract her, just for a moment." With a mischievous twinkle in his eyes that mirrored Mr. Ross', Julian headed towards the door in search of the flowers.

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