Annabelle was exhausted from the drilling needed to prepare for her presentation. Her arms ached from carrying the yards of fabric to simulate her train that she would need to carry in her left arm and her legs were wobbly from the numerous times she had to practice her court bow, forward and backward.

"Once more, Annabelle," her Aunt instructed.

Annabelle sighed and started to mentally cheer herself on, but it did not have much of an effect. Again, she curtseyed the court curtsey which was so deep that her knees nearly touched the floor.

"Hold," her Aunt said, "and reach." Annabelle did so and took the Queen's hand, the part being played by Ms. Pratt, and placed upon it a kiss.

"Perfect," her Aunt said tiredly and Annabelle turned to look at her Aunt. The concern she felt crept back into her features. Ever since the night that Mr. Harris had argued with her Aunt she seemed... unwell.

Annabelle walked over to her, placing the fabric she was using as her train aside. "Aunt Augusta, I do believe I have it now. Why don't we just for today, take some time to relax?"

"But you must be prepared. There is the presentation and then your ball and once you are presented you know there will be a flurry of invites."

"All the more reason to take this moment now," Annabelle urged. "For there will be little to no time to do so later. Just one day...please?"

Lady Cantrell relented. "We do have an appointment to pick up your gown. I suppose we could make a day of it."

Annabelle squeezed her Aunt. "Thank you, thank you, thank you. Do you hear that Ms. Pratt? We are going on an outing," Annabelle said, clasping her hands together.

Ms. Pratt, eyes widened. "Certainly, Miss you do not mean for me..."

"And why not? You have worked just as hard as I in preparing me for this event. And it would be good, to have another opinion, a sharp pair of eyes to make certain the dress and all other details have been properly overseen."

Ms. Pratt looked nervously over to Lady Cantrell. "Oh for heaven's sake grab your coat, and ask the cook to prepare us a light lunch. We can have a picnic in the park," Lady Cantrell stated.

Ms. Pratt's face lit up she looked suddenly years younger. "I shall, Marm. Thank you, Miss." And she scurried off to do as instructed.

"I am worried about you, Aunt Augusta. You haven't been yourself for over a week now."

"It is nothing, child. Stop your fussing. I'm fine. This little outing, I have no doubt, will rejuvenate all of us. You have been working hard, and deserve this respite more than any of us."

Annabelle blushed at her Aunt's praise.

It was quarter past the hour when the three women were bustled inside the carriage for a day of shopping and fun. Ms. Pratt had a basket full of goodies for their picnic. They were off first to Jermyn Street to pick up her dress, which Madame Charron had informed them was finally ready.

The modiste was thrilled to see them. "Lady Cantrell, Lady Bentley, welcome," the woman said. "Come, come. This way. The dress is complete and she will be a vision in it."

"Of this, I have no doubt," said Lady Cantrell.

"Come have a seat," she ushered Lady Cantrell to a comfortable cushioned chair, and Annabelle was promptly marched off by Madame Charron's assistants who helped her dress.

Ms. Pratt stood dutifully by Lady Cantrell's side while Madame Charron chatted away amicably and had some tea and cakes served while they waited. It took some time but was worth the wait as Annabelle truly was a vision. She stepped through the curtain, dressed all in white satin."

Annabelle had seen her Aunt's eyes fill with tears. "Oh, Annabelle you are simply beautiful," her Aunt expounded.

"She is an angel fallen from the heavens."

Every woman in the room turned to see a rather dashing young man standing there suddenly among them.

"I do beg your pardon, Madame Charron. I did not mean to interject. I had only meant to pick up the purchases my Aunt had made yesterday."

"Lord Foxcroft, of course," Madame Charron said and quickly pulled another assistant aside to fetch the parcels.

Annabelle stood on display feeling quite embarrassed by such an exclamation. Lady Cantrell rose. "Lord Foxcroft? You are Lady Foxcroft's nephew?"

"Yes, Lady Cantrell, I am and this must be your beautiful niece I have heard so much about."

Annabelle shied away from the intensity of Lord Foxcroft's gaze.

"How is it, Sir... you know who I am, yet I have never met you before?"

"I would think it a pity the man who does not know the names of Lady Cantrell and her niece," Lord Foxcroft said. However, seeing as how the sternness in Lady Cantrell's feature did not relent he added, "But I see you are too discerning to fall for such flatteries. I must confess, I had high hopes when my Aunt had mentioned that Lady Annabelle would possibly be out and about, as her dress was ready, that I promptly offered to pick up my Aunt's parcels to perchance meet you both."

"Or bribe Madame Charron into telling me when you were to arrive," Lord Foxcroft teased as Madame Charron entered the room.

"You naughty boy, you know I would never," Madame Charron said, looking nervous.

"True, but one can not blame one for trying," Lord Foxcroft said. "And so now here we all are and Lady Annabelle, I do hope you pardon my intrusion."

Annabelle said nothing just simply nodded.

"And I would not wish to criticize but there seems to be a detail missing, Madame Charron."

"Missing?!" The Modiste became alarmed. Circling Annabelle, she scanned the garment for any missed details, even holding the train's fabric up to the light to detect imperfections. There was not a stitch out of place not an imperfection to be found. She glared at Lord Foxcroft, "You are playing with me, my Lord. This dress is flawless."

"True," Lord Foxcroft said, as he opened a case that materialized from his breast pocket. It contained a strand of pearls. "However, I believe these would add just the right touch."

"Oh," exclaimed Madame Charron, who looked suddenly too nervous to make a move. Not wishing to possibly insult either client.

"May I?" Lord Foxcroft asked Annabelle, making a move towards her.

"Absolutely not!" Lady Cantrell said, staying his steps. "You are being rather presumptuous, Sir! My niece has yet to be presented and she will not do so wearing tainted pearls."

"T...Tainted?!" Lord Foxcroft said, in disbelief. "I only meant to offer a gift of friendship to your niece. I see no harm in..."

"Of course, you do not. You have plotted and planned... downright contrived this entire meeting. Well, if your intentions are pure, then you will not mind going through the proper channels, for I will not allow my niece to become a subject of scandal."

Lord Foxcroft sighed. "I see. My apologies." He shut the case and placed it back in his pocket. "I meant no offense. In future endeavors, I promise to take more care for decorum's sake."

"See that you do!" Lady Cantrell said, "Your work IS magnificent, Madame Charron. Annabelle... you may get dressed."

Annabelle with the help of the assistants had made it to the back room. She wondered who this Lord Foxcroft was. Obviously, her Aunt knew of him. She knew she ought to be flattered by his attention but she truly just felt unnerved by them. The fact that he had wound up her Aunt did not exactly esteem him to her either. When she returned to see that he was no longer there, she felt relieved.

"The nerve of him," Lady Cantrell said, shaking her head as she spoke to Ms. Pratt. "How could he think that presenting her with pearls to be even the least bit appropriate. Besides, I have my own I wish to give to Annabelle."

Ms. Pratt put a hand on her Lady's arm. "Think no more of it, Marm. Lady Annabelle would not wish you to be so distressed."

"You are quite right. Annabelle wished this to be a fun outing and I will not let that brash youth ruin it for us."

Annabelle stepped forward. "Thank you, Madame Charron. You have made a wonderful dress, and it will make my presentation to the Queen simply perfect."

"How sweet of you to say," Madame Charron said. "The gown has been wrapped. Do you wish to take it with you or would you like me to have it sent?"

"Our footman will take it to the carriage, thank you," Lady Cantrell said. "Shall we continue?"

"Yes!" Annabelle said, linking her arm with her Aunt's. "Let's."

They had quite an enjoyable afternoon and they all enjoyed the treats that the cook had packed for their picnic. Annabelle was happy to see her Aunt's good mood return.

"It would seem you are finally ready for your presentation."

"Oh, we have forgotten to stop at the milliner for my gloves," Annabelle said.

"You are right!" her Aunt agreed but she was exhausted by the day. "Perhaps, tomorrow we could..."

"Why not let Ms. Pratt and I go on? We will take one of the footmen with us for protection and meet you back home. I am certain you can use the rest and we will not have to make another outing tomorrow."

Lady Cantrell did not like the idea of them being separated but saw the sense to it and agreed. She was quite worn out. She waved good-bye to them and said the carriage would be back to collect them before high tea, the carriage will be stationed at Madame Charron's.

They promised to be on time. Annabelle and Ms. Pratt had made a good time getting to milliner and Annabelle had the last piece she needed to complete her look for the presentation. She paid for her purchase and turned to see a familiar face standing out among the shoppers in the store.

Mr. Kane was looking rather befuddled over a new hat. Annabelle smiled at his lost expression and without giving it a second thought, strode over to him, grabbing what she wanted on the way.

"This one," she said, handing Mr. Kane a topper in a rich dark brown color. It was a hat he often had admired but didn't think himself smart enough to wear. He took it from her and mechanically placed it upon his head. It was a perfect fit. The irony was not lost on him.

She grabbed a hand mirror and showed him his reflection. "See. Perfect."

He did not even pay his reflection homage. He took the hat off and held it at his side, which caused Annabelle to frown. "Don't you like it?"

"Say something you idiot!" his Heart hollered at him. It currently felt like it lodged itself in his throat.

"What is the point? Just walk away," his Brain reasoned.

"Where is your Aunt?" Cyril came out with, finally.

"Oh? She...she is not here. We were together earlier. I was picking up my dress for my presentation at Court. It is to occur in a week, followed by my ball but then I realized I had forgotten my gloves," she said holding up her package. She was rambling. Annabelle knew it but could not stop, as she was so nervous, but not in a bad way, more like every nerve in her body decided to come alive at once just upon seeing him, making her jumpy.

"You are... alone?" Cyril asked, shocked by the notion.

"Oh, goodness no! Ms. Pratt and one of my Aunt's footmen have accompanied me. They are right over there."

Cyril turned to see the two servants standing far enough away not to be obtrusive but close enough to be a presence. "I do not think it is meant for me," Cyril said handing her back the hat she had chosen.

"You are being ridiculous," Annabelle said quite passionately. "It could not be more perfect than if you had it tailor-made for you." She refused to take back the hat.

"I appreciate your input but I am not so fancy as to require such a hat. Perhaps, if I were a member of the Ton I'd have the occasion but as it stands..." He put the hat back where she had gotten it.

Annabelle was bristled by this. "Are you always this obstinate?"

"Excuse me?" Cyril asked, shocked that she seemed to be mad at him.

"Is this a habit of yours? Searching for what you want, only to have it handed to you and then throwing it away."

Cyril gave her an estimating glance. "We are still talking of hats are we not?"

Color flushed her cheeks. "Of course! What else would I be referring to?" she said but her fidgeting with her wrap and reticule was a dead giveaway. She was downright flustered and it caused him to hope in a way he knew was dangerous, yet his Heart grabbed that morsel of hope and feasted on it like it was a seven-course meal.

"Oh, there you are, Lady Annabelle. I had wondered where you had wandered off to. Is this ruffian bothering you?"

And that morsel turned rotten, souring his stomach as he watched the man who spoke take a rather protective stance, behind Annabelle.

"Lord Foxcroft!" Annabelle said turning around stunned that he should suddenly be here. He stood so close that she had to take her hand and press it against his chest to move him back a step. "Mr. Kane is no ruffian!"

"My apologies, Lady Annabelle. I did not wish you to be detained where you would not wish, but now as the problem appears to be solved, may I escort you back to wherever you were headed?"

Confused, Annabelle turned back around to see the retreating figure of Mr. Kane walking away and out of the shop. Furious, she turned back, "No, you may not! Come, Ms. Pratt. Let us go." Ms. Pratt was quick to step in line with her mistress and the footman followed behind checking to be certain they were not followed by Lord Foxcroft.

Annabelle was severely disappointed, for when they reached the busy street she could not find Mr. Kane in the crowd.

"Are you alright, Miss?" Ms. Pratt questioned seeing the crestfallen look upon the young woman's face.

"No, but it is no matter. Let us head back to the carriage." The three of them headed back to Jermyn Street.

Cyril watched as they walked on from his vantage point across the busy thoroughfare. He took note that Lord Foxcroft was not with her.

"You did the right thing," his Brain reassured.

"You ARE an IDIOT!!!" rebuked his Heart.