Chapter Two
A Fortnight Later…
The morning of Penelope’s nuptials had started uneventfully.
At least, as uneventfully as such a momentous occasion could be.
Gathered with the women of the wedding party in a quiet room of the church where her friend would soon speak her vows, Nell added the final touches to her ensemble.
Her bridesmaid’s gown of pale yellow silk featured a modest, square neckline and a creamy lace overlay.
Penelope had shown great thoughtfulness when planning the attire for the wedding party, considering not only the beauty of their gowns, but the comfort of her attendants on a warm summer day.
Pinning her golden blonde hair into a simple but elegant upswept style, Nell decided against further embellishment.
She’d chosen to wear her favorite necklace, a slender gold chain with a teardrop-shaped aquamarine in the center.
The choker seemed the perfect accent for the dress.
Understated, yet lovely. She certainly didn’t want to chance an adornment that might draw attention from the bride’s lacy white gown and veil.
As she struggled with the chain’s intricate fastener, her friend Macie Mason Caldwell looked on with a touch of amusement. The esteemed photographer had set up her camera in the church to capture images of the wedding party following the exchange of vows.
“That stubborn clasp appears to be winning the battle. I’ll take care of it for you,” Macie said, taking charge as she often did. After securing the necklace around Nell’s neck, she stood back, studying the scene with an artist’s eye for details.
“I do believe I see an idea brewing,” Nell said. “What mischief are you contemplating now?”
“None at the moment—a rare thing indeed.” Macie headed to the door, the pale pink silk of her skirts swishing with each step.
“The lighting and proportions in this room would be perfect for a photograph. I’ve already set up my camera downstairs, but I asked my assistant to bring the smaller one along as well.
I may bring it up for a bit and document a few of these moments before the ceremony. ”
“A splendid idea,” Nell said. The other bridesmaids agreed enthusiastically.
Macie had scarcely made it out of the room when the quiet calm of the morning was shattered by a distressed lament. “Drat! Drat! Drat!”
The cry had come from the bride’s dressing quarters. What on earth? Nell hurried to Penelope’s side with the other bridesmaids close on her heels.
Looking absolutely radiant in her white wedding gown with its abundance of lace and tiny, pearl-like beads, Penelope paced before the cheval glass.
Thankfully, she had lifted her train off the floor so as not to damage the gossamer-thin fabric beneath her toes.
Glancing toward Nell, she wrung her hands.
Had she received some horrid news without them being aware of the messenger’s arrival?
“Has something happened, dear?” Nell inquired gently.
Tears brimmed in Penelope’s eyes. “I don’t want to cry. That would make things even worse.”
“Pen, what is wrong?” Nell asked as the others bustled into the chamber, looks of concern etched on their faces.
“Oh, it’s nothing,” Penelope said, her tone and actions contradicting her words. “It’s just… Well, I feel a bit silly even speaking of it.” Lacing her fingers in a loose knot, she appeared nearly inconsolable. “I am missing my something blue.”
Something old. Something new… Nell silently recited the old rhyme. Oh dear.
“Now that is a problem we can fix.” Nell glanced around the room, looking for a bow or a garter or even a snip of ribbon. “So, who has a blue garter Pen might wear?”
The bridesmaids looked to each other, then shook their heads.
“A handkerchief with a bit of blue thread?” Penelope suggested with no luck.
Very well. Nell knew what she had to do. She could not allow this simple oversight to cast a cloud over her superstitious friend’s wedding day.
But as her fingers went to her necklace, she stilled.
She’d truly relished the prospect of wearing something so very beautiful.
As a proper bridesmaid, she should not feel even a twinge of hesitation.
Tamping down her disappointment before Penelope could detect even a flicker of reluctance, she fiddled with the clasp.
Fortunately, it proved far less stubborn this time.
“I have your something blue,” Nell said as she gently swept Penelope’s reddish-gold curls to the side and fastened the chain around her throat.
Beaming as she caught her reflection in the mirror, Penelope brushed away a tear. “Oh, it’s lovely.”
Impulsively, Nell reached out to give her a hug, but Penelope reacted with a look of near horror.
“The dress,” the bride-to-be reminded her. “It does crease so very easily.”
As she stepped back, Nell offered a nod of agreement. One would not want to interfere with the utter perfection of the bride’s gown, now would they?
Out of nowhere, an image flickered in her mind’s eye. A man standing at the altar with the minister. But this time, he was looking at her. She couldn’t make out his face, but she was certain he was meant for her. With this man, she would find the love she’d hoped for at the fountain.
She bit back a smile at the bittersweet notion. Her wish had been a silly fantasy, nothing more. Just as she’d suspected, she’d lost only a paltry coin.
“I feel rather like a princess.” Penelope drew her fingertips over the sparkling blue gem at her throat. “Nell, I can always count on you.”
Of course, Nell thought, not quite as happy as she should have been. I am a bridesmaid. Always saving the day…
*
The three-tiered wedding cake towered over the long, white-linen-covered table in the grand hall of Macie’s home, Bennington Manor.
Glittering crystal chandeliers cast radiant light over the elegantly attired ladies and their gentlemen as they danced to the music of an orchestral trio on the dance floor.
Penelope and the dashing barrister who’d claimed her heart enjoyed their first dance as man and wife while Nell and Macie mingled among the guests who had gathered to celebrate the union.
Beneath the light of the chandelier, Macie’s diamond earrings sparkled against her flowing reddish-brown hair, the perfectly accent to her gown. “The wedding and reception have turned out beautifully,” she said, pleased for her friend.
“This has been a splendid affair,” Nell agreed. “Bennington Manor is a wonderful home, perfect for the reception.”
“I’m pleased I was able to offer it to Pen. She was so concerned about her overflowing guest list. I so wanted her to be happy today.” Macie cast their friend a warm glance. “Thank goodness you’d worn a blue gemstone today.”
“Indeed. It would’ve been a pity to see her in distress over something blue.”
“I’m not nearly so superstitious,” Macie said. “Though I am known to throw a pinch of salt over my shoulder from time to time.”
“Or make a wish at a fountain.” Nell allowed herself a smile.
“At least that is hopeful,” Macie said. “Perhaps if I’d tossed some coins into the fountain years ago, I might’ve wed Finn sooner.” She smiled, appearing wistful before flashing a little grin. “But then again, think of how many shenanigans you and I might’ve missed out on.”
“Quite so,” Nell agreed. “My dear father might’ve had considerably fewer gray hairs.”
“And my brother as well.” Macie glanced about, searching the room. “I don’t see Finn anywhere. I suppose he’s off with Logan, discussing something or other about the restoration of the house. He worked tirelessly on the renovations.”
“The two of you have outdone yourselves.” Nell accepted a flute of champagne from a passing waiter. “Every detail is superb.”
“Thank you.” Macie beamed. “It was quite a project, but I’m delighted with how it’s turned out.” Her gaze wandered again. “Oh, there he is.”
As Macie spoke, Nell followed the path of her gaze. Finn Caldwell stood near the countertop bar that had been set up for the occasion. Enjoying a drink and conversation with his friends, he faced them, gesturing to his wife with a slight wave of his hand.
He was not alone. Logan MacLain, Finn’s cousin and business partner, was at his side.
A third man stood to Finn’s left, his back turned to Nell and Macie, tall and broad-shouldered, his black jacket expertly tailored while his chestnut-brown hair was worn slightly too long to be considered the height of fashion.
Though she could not see his face, she sensed something familiar about the gentleman. Too familiar. Somehow, she knew the cut of his hair, the way it brushed his collar and curled here and there, and the feel of the silky strands against her fingertips.
Nell curled her right hand into a loose fist as an unexpected memory washed over her.
Oh dear. This simply cannot be…
Her pulse sped up as her attention was riveted to the man. She had not yet been able to see his face. But somehow, she knew. In her heart, she knew it was him.
“Nell, is something wrong?”
She turned to Macie, seeing the concern in her eyes. “No, not at all.”
Macie’s brow furrowed. “You’re not in the least bit convincing. You do realize that, don’t you?”
“I am afraid I do not follow,” Nell said, confirming Macie’s words. She was most definitely poorly skilled at evasion.
“My dear friend, you have never possessed even the slightest ability to tell a fib.”
“I suppose that is to my credit.” Nell nervously smoothed her skirts.
“It might well be a virtue,” Macie said. “Though I suppose not attempting to fib in the first place is truly the virtue.”
“My head hurts just trying to figure out what you’re saying,” Nell quipped, forcing a little smile.
“Something has upset you,” Macie persisted. “I can see it so clearly. You cannot fool me.”
Nell glanced toward the men. The brown-haired gentleman had moved slightly, angling his body in a manner that provided her a better view of his features.
This cannot be… him. Her thoughts raced and jumbled. This simply cannot be Rafe.