Adela sauntered through the halls of her family's grand London mansion, the click of her heels resonating on the spotless marble floors as she made her way toward the back door. Clutching a cold glass bottle to her chest and swathing it in her shawl to conceal it, she aimed to evade detection.
Suddenly, her mother called out, "Adela."
She halted in her tracks, her heart racing. If her mother caught her with the pilfered bottle of wine from her father's alcohol cabinet, she'd be confined to the house for months. Turning slowly, Adela found her mother in the main living room, her back turned, hiding the contraband.
"Yes, Mama?" Adela responded sweetly.
Curious, her mother inquired, "You seem to be in a haste. Where are you headed?"
Thinking fast, Adela replied, "I'll be picking apples with Camila, as I mentioned yesterday."
"Hmm, I must have forgotten," her mother said, looking away. A sigh of relief escaped Adela as she moved away, but her mother called out again
"Wait," her mother said.
Tension surged through Adela once more as she responded, "Yes?"
"Are you to be alone with Camila? She tends to cut up peace quite often." her mother cautioned.
"No need to worry, Mama. Katherine will accompany us; we'll keep a watchful eye on her," Adela reassured, managing a laugh, which her mother joined.
"Very well," her mother said, dismissing her.
Finally reaching the back door, Adela opened it and dashed through the tall grass of the backyard. In the distance, she spotted her three closest friends—Camila Worthington, Katherine Worthington, and Edith Swinton—seated on a cloth blanket, the designated meeting spot. A beautiful floral tea set and four cups awaited them.
"Got it!" Adela announced.
The girls cheered, beckoning her to join them on the ground.
"Let's have some tea, girls," Camila joked.
Taking the wine bottle from Adela, Camila poured it into the cups she had brought. Katherine, Camila's younger sister, eyed the alcohol warily. Always appearing somewhat naive with her bright blond hair and youthful countenance, Katherine cautiously lifted a cup to her nose, wrinkling it at the scent.
"Oh, I am scared. What does it taste like?" Katherine asked nervously.
Camila rolled her eyes. Having always been the more rebellious one, she was well acquainted with the taste of wine.
"Stop acting like a child," Camila snaps, "it tastes of grapes."
Though accustomed to her sister's rudeness, Katherine scowled.
"It tastes of heaven," Adela chimed in warmly. Adela often played the mediator in Camila and Katherine's disputes. Katherine smiled widely, taking a big sip, but nearly gagged at the taste.
"Good Lord, if that's heaven, count me out," Katherine declared.
This prompted laughter from Camila. Katherine extended her cup towards Edith, silently offering her a sip.
"A lady shouldn't indulge in alcohol before her wedding night," Edith remarked.
"Is that what your ridiculous book says?" Camila muttered.
"No! It is a love story. Besides, we're supposed to be drinking tea, not getting drunk in broad daylight," Edith retorted.
"It is only wine, not whisky or rum. I am sure your mother consumes her fair share dealing with you," Camila remarked, laughing.
YOU ARE READING
Summer 1818
RomanceIn Regency-era London, a privileged teen discovers that navigating the intricate dance of high society while going through puberty is as challenging as the strict corsets she wears. In the summer of 1818, amidst the opulent backdrop of Regency-era L...
