Read Online Bridal Favors by Connie Brockway - Free Book Online Page B

I expect that can be misinterpreted.” She found herself remembering very distinctly the manner in which his eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled, and the feel of muscles moving beneath his shirt as he picked her up. She also recalled his laughter, and she smiled in response to it, even if it was only a memory.
    “To be honest, I found him likeable,” she said. “And clever. In a bohemian sort of way. A sort of careless way. But not an objectionably bohemian careless way.”
    “You did, did you?” her mother murmured, regarding her closely.
    “Yes.”
    “And you are perfectly satisfied he will not attempt to importune you?”
    Evelyn gave her mother a wry look. “I am certain he’ll find the wherewithal to resist me. He’s only there to plot the migration of some odd little bird he discovered.”
    “You could take Merry with you,” Francesca suggested, startling Evelyn. The idea of the perennially ‘entangled’ Frenchwoman playing the part of chaperon was too delicious. She burst into laughter.
    “Merry? You’re teasing!”
    “Not at all. Granted, Merry’s morals are somewhat lax, but only in reference to herself. She believes herself to be cursed, or blessed, with an artistic soul. Which she is, the darling!”
    Evelyn wasn’t nearly so sanguine about the direction of Merry’s moral compass, but as she’d planned to send for the dress designer soon after her arrival at North Cross Abbey anyway, she might as well make her mother happy by toting her along right from the start. “All right,” she agreed. “I shall ask Merry to come along with me.”
    “Ah, good. The more help you have with the wedding, the better.”
    Evelyn nodded. “Mother,
this
wedding will be a success. I have arranged for every possible contingency. I have hired backup delivery people, contacted alternate suppliers for various items, and ordered double quantities of everything.
    “Added to which, I shall be at hand from a month before the wedding until the final guest has left. This time, I swear I will not fail. The Vandervoort-Cuthbert wedding will be spectacular.”
    An odd expression crossed her mother’s face. “Evelyn, darling, isn’t ‘spectacular’ asking rather much?”
    “Not at all,” Evelyn said. “People seek Aunt Agatha’s services for the spectacular. They have every right to expect it, and I will deliver it.”
    “And what would happen if you couldn’t deliver on that worthy goal?” her mother asked softly.
    The question caused an unpleasant twist in Evelyn’s stomach. She frowned. “Don’t you think I can do it?”
    Her mother laughed at her expression. “Oh, Evelyn, my darling. I don’t doubt your ability for a minute. If you told me you had decided to fly, I should expect to see you soaring about the rooftops by sunset. But that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t wonder what lured you into the sky.”
    Her mother was regarding her with uncharacteristic earnestness. Usually Francesca was a font of tranquil encouragement, unquestioning in her faith in Evelyn’s intelligence, abilities, and resourcefulness. The ache in Evelyn’s stomach deepened.
    “Please, Mama. I
can
do this. Don’t worry.”
    “But, darling, I do worry. Perhaps I—”
    A knock on the door interrupted her, and Evelyn turned with a guilty sense of relief. “Come in,” she called.
    The door opened and Mrs. Vandervoort entered, followed by Merry, who had also just arrived. The Frenchwoman greeted Francesca and retreated to the side of the room to wait.
    “Good day, Mrs. Vandervoort.” Evelyn rose and greeted the American woman. “May I introduce you to my mother, Marchioness Broughton? Mama, Mrs. Edith Vandervoort.”
    The two ladies looked one another over with open interest. On the surface they looked a great deal alike. Both were statuesque beauties, having reached the full bloom of their looks in their middle years. Both had dark blond hair and striking blue eyes. Both were dressed in the height of fashion, though