Read Online Andrews Brothers 02 - The Rescue by Felicia Rogers - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Felicia Rogers
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his route. Annoyed, he leaned back and said, “The young lady who ran past, I didn’t get her name.”
The footman crossed his arms over his barrel shaped chest, but made no reply nor any indication of moving aside.
Andrew sighed, ran his hand through his hair, and reentered the main hall. The drapes had been drawn and the moon cast a glow on the floor’s uneven stones. An archway, covered in a canopy of foxgloves and roses had appeared before the platform. Pleasant aromas filled the air and Andrew found himself anticipating the moment.
Candles were doused. Music echoed throughout the hall. The crowd parted like the Red Sea. At the back of the room poised a veiled individual.
Her gown trembled and Andrew imagined the bride’s knees knocking beneath the silken fabric. Sorrow for the young lady nipped at the edge of his conscience.
The musicians struck an out of tune chord and the bride stepped forward. She moved along the aisle in an almost run, soon residing beside Clovis. Andrew hid his surprise at the action, wondering if the female wished to run to Clovis because she liked him or because she just wanted the ordeal to be over.
Clovis reached for the veil and she slapped his hand away. He narrowed his eyes until the crowd snickered then he winked. “My bride is shy. I’ll just take myself a peek to make sure I’m not marrying me own valet.”
The room erupted into raucous laughter as Clovis lifted the veil a fraction, smiled, and said, “Vicar, you may proceed.”
The bland ceremony lasted only a few moments. There was no singing, no repeating of vows, and no exchange of kisses, just the rote words and the vicar’s proclamation. The service was over and the groom and bride halfway down the aisle before Andrew and the guests reacted.
They clapped in a slow rhythmic motion. The band played a morose tune until a liveried gentleman ascended the stage and bade them stop.
Dismissed, the guests dispersed and enjoyed the delights of a light reception in the dining hall, including the bride’s pie, which seemed odd without the bride. The clock chimed one.
Andrew found his mother surrounded by elderly gentlemen vying for her attention.
“Excuse me, but my son needs me.”
Andrew opened his mouth to protest, but she sent him a silencing look. When out of earshot, Rowena said, “Thank you for the rescue.”
“You’re welcome.”
She guided him to the buffet tables. “Stewed damsons, my favorite.” She smacked her drawn lips and Andrew fought the urge to laugh over her excitement for prunes. “Did you need something, dear?”
“Yes. I wanted to know what to do now.”
“Oh. Now we mingle until Clovis’ valet returns to inform us the seed has once again been shared.”
Andrew blinked rapidly and his throat tightened. He wouldn’t laugh, it wouldn’t be right.
Rowena patted his arm. “A shock, I know. But Clovis is big on tradition.”
She moved away and Andrew found himself seeking the company of the red head in hopes of discussing the night’s developments.
Skirting the edges of the main hall revealed nothing and he expanded his search. Through the parted draperies, he could see moonlight striking a garden path. Leaving the safety and warmth of the dining hall, he edged around visitors until he was outside. Water in a nearby fountain glistened like diamonds. Perched on the stone edge, he palmed his chin. Where had the mystery woman gotten off to?
****
The enormous suite was lit by half-melted candles. A four poster bed, blanketed in a thick dark maroon coverlet, dwarfed the small room.
Farrah had serious doubts about her father’s plan. How had he allowed it to go so far? She had expected him to step in and stop the ceremony, or at least pull her aside before the nuptials and explain. Her heart hammered against her ribs as she hid in the shadows and waited. After the ceremony Clovis disappeared to places unknown and Garrett had escorted her to Clovis’ suite. Lucretia had stood erect and
The footman crossed his arms over his barrel shaped chest, but made no reply nor any indication of moving aside.
Andrew sighed, ran his hand through his hair, and reentered the main hall. The drapes had been drawn and the moon cast a glow on the floor’s uneven stones. An archway, covered in a canopy of foxgloves and roses had appeared before the platform. Pleasant aromas filled the air and Andrew found himself anticipating the moment.
Candles were doused. Music echoed throughout the hall. The crowd parted like the Red Sea. At the back of the room poised a veiled individual.
Her gown trembled and Andrew imagined the bride’s knees knocking beneath the silken fabric. Sorrow for the young lady nipped at the edge of his conscience.
The musicians struck an out of tune chord and the bride stepped forward. She moved along the aisle in an almost run, soon residing beside Clovis. Andrew hid his surprise at the action, wondering if the female wished to run to Clovis because she liked him or because she just wanted the ordeal to be over.
Clovis reached for the veil and she slapped his hand away. He narrowed his eyes until the crowd snickered then he winked. “My bride is shy. I’ll just take myself a peek to make sure I’m not marrying me own valet.”
The room erupted into raucous laughter as Clovis lifted the veil a fraction, smiled, and said, “Vicar, you may proceed.”
The bland ceremony lasted only a few moments. There was no singing, no repeating of vows, and no exchange of kisses, just the rote words and the vicar’s proclamation. The service was over and the groom and bride halfway down the aisle before Andrew and the guests reacted.
They clapped in a slow rhythmic motion. The band played a morose tune until a liveried gentleman ascended the stage and bade them stop.
Dismissed, the guests dispersed and enjoyed the delights of a light reception in the dining hall, including the bride’s pie, which seemed odd without the bride. The clock chimed one.
Andrew found his mother surrounded by elderly gentlemen vying for her attention.
“Excuse me, but my son needs me.”
Andrew opened his mouth to protest, but she sent him a silencing look. When out of earshot, Rowena said, “Thank you for the rescue.”
“You’re welcome.”
She guided him to the buffet tables. “Stewed damsons, my favorite.” She smacked her drawn lips and Andrew fought the urge to laugh over her excitement for prunes. “Did you need something, dear?”
“Yes. I wanted to know what to do now.”
“Oh. Now we mingle until Clovis’ valet returns to inform us the seed has once again been shared.”
Andrew blinked rapidly and his throat tightened. He wouldn’t laugh, it wouldn’t be right.
Rowena patted his arm. “A shock, I know. But Clovis is big on tradition.”
She moved away and Andrew found himself seeking the company of the red head in hopes of discussing the night’s developments.
Skirting the edges of the main hall revealed nothing and he expanded his search. Through the parted draperies, he could see moonlight striking a garden path. Leaving the safety and warmth of the dining hall, he edged around visitors until he was outside. Water in a nearby fountain glistened like diamonds. Perched on the stone edge, he palmed his chin. Where had the mystery woman gotten off to?
****
The enormous suite was lit by half-melted candles. A four poster bed, blanketed in a thick dark maroon coverlet, dwarfed the small room.
Farrah had serious doubts about her father’s plan. How had he allowed it to go so far? She had expected him to step in and stop the ceremony, or at least pull her aside before the nuptials and explain. Her heart hammered against her ribs as she hid in the shadows and waited. After the ceremony Clovis disappeared to places unknown and Garrett had escorted her to Clovis’ suite. Lucretia had stood erect and
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