CAROLINE and Emma were securing Caro’s fascinator to her head when Adrian came up behind Emma and gave her a gentle hug.
“Why, hello, my lovely fiancée,” he said, nuzzling Emma’s neck. “You two trying to re-create your British Royal Wedding party, are you? Hope the cook’s got bangers and mash on.”
Emma tapped her finger on the tip of his nose. “No, silly. We are doing it right for your mother’s garden party.”
He looked at them both, their cockeyed hats with wiring and feathers and such popping out like antennae on prehistoric insects. “Are the hats part of the mating ritual of the insect world? Perhaps they help to pollinate the flowers in the garden?”
“You’re just jealous you can’t wear one of these,” Emma said, fanning herself with her fingers like the belle of the ball.
“It is true; I have a fondness for praying mantises. Or is it praying mantii?”
“Ask Caroline. She was a master of Latin back in our school days.” Emma elbowed her in the ribs.
Caroline sighed. “Emma loves to mock my lack of academic rigor. I failed out of Latin. It’s a dead language anyhow.”
“Everyone prepared for Mother’s little floral bash?” Adrian said. “You both look gorgeous in your dresses. And the hats, well, I think it’s good that they’re as subtle as they are. Because trust me, you’ll see some that I suspect were designed to make the wearer look like a complete fool.”
Caroline took a good long look at Adrian. “News flash, buddy. You could be accused of doing business as a penguin with that top hat and tails you’ve got on.”
Emma laughed and hugged her fiancé. “I think he looks sexy,” she said, planting a kiss on his lips.
“And I love a girl in insect headwear,” he said rubbing his nose to hers.
“Okay, people, I think I might get sick what with all this lovey-dovey gushing going on. Can we keep it G-rated here and maybe relegate that to the bedroom?”
Emma and Adrian held hands and laughed.
Adrian gestured toward the door. “We’d best be getting out there anyhow. I’ve got to mingle with several hundred of my nearest and dearest friends. And Emma’s got to brace herself for the onslaught. Everyone wants to meet my future bride.”
Emma’s mouth spread in a nervous grimace. “I’d rather it just unfold organically than know I have this mob awaiting me.”
Caroline swatted her on the behind with a delicate fan she had at the ready for the sweltering heat. “I’d be more worried that you might sweat off your makeup than your swooning entourage of adoring fans, lady,” she said. “I hope pit stains are in this year.” She fake-fanned her armpits.
“Please, Caroline.” Emma jutted her jaw and drawing out her friend’s name with a posh-sounding accent. “Royals don’t sweat. We perspire.”
“That’s perfect. Since I’ll never be a member of any royal anything, I will continue to sweat like the perfectly crass American girl I am.” She fluttered her fan like she had the vapors.
“Okay, then. In that case, we’ll be off,” Adrian said, offering an elbow to each woman.
~*~
“My God, it’s hot out here,” Caroline said. “I didn’t think I’d actually use this silly fan. I thought it was a prop. One of those royal things you keep around to look hoity-toity.”
“Sometimes things evolve out of necessity, my dear,” Gareth said, grabbing Caro’s fan and giving himself a quick flutter. “If only it didn’t look so ridiculous for me to use a fan, I would carry one too.”
“I’m sorry, Gareth,” she said. “Here I am lamenting this heat and you’re in tails, ascot, and a top hat. You must be dying from heat prostration. At least I can circulate a little air up the ol’ dress.” She flapped at her hem, trying to be discreet.
“Don’t rub it in,” he said. “Though I know overall you women have it much harder, trying to come off as effortlessly put together.”
“Yeah. At least you have a jacket that’ll hide your sweat stains.”
“Let’s distract ourselves with some champagne.” He grabbed two flutes from a passing tray.
“I’m so lucky to have you here or I’d be hiding in a corner, not knowing a soul,” Caroline said. “It’s like they’ve introduced the latest baby animal at the zoo with Emma, all the gawking and picture-taking. I know she must be dying that people are so interested in taking her photograph, considering she lived on the back end of the camera for so long.”
“We reap what we sow,” Gareth said. “But she’s doing a marvelous job. Clearly all those years with a camera taught her a thing or two about composure on the opposite side of it.”
Caroline sighed. “She does look amazing, doesn’t she? It’s like she was born to it, all this royal stuff. Who’d have ever known my little friend would turn into a princess?”
“Speaking of blue bloods. You and Lord Weltenham seemed to be rather cozy last week. Is there something you’re not telling me?” He gave her a wink.
She cringed, scrunching her face up like she’d just tasted a sour lemon and covering her face with her fan. “Let’s not even bring that one up. Suffice it to say there is nothing cozy between Darcy and me. End of conversation.”
“Okay, then,” he said. “Mum’s the word. But speaking of mums, look who’s lurking nearby.”
Caroline glanced over to see Darcy’s mother, Lady Charlotte, so elegant and gracious-looking even in her grief. It seemed gray was her color of mourning, and she was strikingly beautiful in a fitted charcoal shantung peplum suit. Caro made to duck for cover, not wanting to have to face that inquisition, when Gareth called to the woman.
“Lady Charlotte, you are absolutely stunning in that outfit,” he said, holding his champagne glass high as if to toast her.
“Oh God, oh God, oh God,” Caroline mumbled, trying to shield her face with her cockeyed fascinator. If only someone, anyone, around here would recognize her and come over to divert her from the inevitable conversation. But just about the only person she even knew, and that was barely, was Darcy’s mom. Everyone else around her was a stranger to her.
“Oh, Gareth! You’re too kind,” Lady Charlotte said as she strolled toward them like a fashion model in her gorgeous gray T-strap leather pumps that Caroline would have given her eyeteeth to wear.
“No time for shoe envy,” she said out loud, only realizing too late what a stupid thing it was to say.
“Shoe envy?” Gareth said.
Caroline shook her head. “Do you suppose there’s a restroom nearby?” She kept turning her body away from the approaching Lady Charlotte, thinking she could steer clear of her presence.
“Is that you, Caroline?” Lady Charlotte asked, peering around Caroline’s proffered shoulder.
Caro turned slowly with great reluctance. “What a surprise! Lady Charlotte!”
“I thought for certain we’d see you over the past week helping Darcy like you said you’d do, but I’ve not seen you even once. So disappointing. I hope it wasn’t something I said!”
Caroline shook her head. “No, not at all. I... I just got busy with Gareth. We’ve been helping Emma with the apartment and mapping out plans for decorating their country home. Not to mention fittings for the wedding. It’s been a veritable logjam of obligations.”
Gareth looked sideways at Caroline, kicking her foot slightly. “I’m sorry, Caroline. I didn’t know I was taking you away from other commitments. Why don’t you plan to get over there to help Darcy tomorrow?”
Caroline turned her head away from them both. “I think Darcy said he was busy.”
Lady Charlotte scrunched her brows. “Funny, he’s been holed up in the barn office for days. I worry he’s become part of the woodwork. Couldn’t even get him to join me for this party. I suspect he’d love a break. Perhaps you might lure him away to get something to eat? My treat.”
She smiled one of those un-turn-downable pity-the-widow smiles that made Caroline’s stomach curdle.
“That’s so very thoughtful of you, Lady Charlotte,” she said. “But really, I couldn’t.”
“Nonsense. I insist. And please, let’s forget the formality. I’d love it if you’d call me Charlotte.”
Caroline took a large swig of her champagne and gulped so hard it felt like she’d swallowed a small mammal. “Sure, Charlotte,” she choked out, clearing her throat. “But about that dinner...”
“Is tomorrow night fine for you? I’ll arrange for a driver to pick you up.”
Man, this town and its drivers, Caroline thought. Does no one ever drive themselves?
Caroline’s eyes widened and she focused on Gareth, hoping he’d get the message from her that she needed help extricating herself from this one. But he just smiled and sipped his champagne, occasionally waving at a passerby.
For lack of a viable excuse and totally unwilling to confess the truth, Caroline yielded. “I’ll be ready at eight,” she said with a resigned shrug.