A March Bride (A Year of Weddings 1 #4)(23)

“And this is?”

“For this evening, milady. Your carriage will be along at six forty precisely.”

“Carriage? Six forty? Jon, Nathaniel is ten minutes away. Five if there’s no traffic. I can drive myself.”

“Six forty, milady.”

She made a face. Something was up. “All right . . . Does he require anything else of me? This isn’t about the citizenship oath, is it?”

Jonathan stepped off the veranda with a bow, still very much in the role of royal footman. Inside the house, Avery hovered, begging Susanna to open the box.

“Hold your horses.” She set the gift on the kitchen table, thinking, wondering, fingering the silky purple bow. “What do you think this is about?”

“Suz, he’s romancing you. Go with it. Don’t overthink it. Heck, you never know how long this kind of stuff will last.”

Susanna made a face. “How would you know, Dr. Love?”

“Locker room talk.” Avery shoved the box toward Susanna. “Open it!”

Susanna grinned, her expectation pinging. “This is kind of fun.” She loosened the ribbon and lifted the box lid. Shoving back a layer of white tissue paper, she sighed, tears springing to her eyes when she saw the pale mauve satin gown. “Oh my, Granny’s wedding dress.” She slipped her fingers through the spaghetti straps and lifted the sixty-four-year-old dress from the box. “Aves.” She drilled her sister with a steely stare. “Where did he get this?”

“Me, of course.” Pure. Without guile.

“And why did you give him this dress?” Susanna held the gown against her with trembling, adrenaline-charged hands.

“I was digging around in Granny’s things and—”

“You found the dress and gave it to Nathaniel?” Susanna inspected the lace and sequin flowers and the gold cord appliqué. “It’s been cleaned and pressed.”

“Well, you didn’t want to wear it wrinkled, did you?”

“Avery Mae.” Susanna reached out to pinch her sister’s arm. “You tell me what’s going on right now.”

But the lithe volleyball star ducked out of the way. “You know what? You need to learn to live in the moment.” She scooped a handful of M&M’s from the dish on the kitchen counter. “I’m out of here. Volleyball practice.” She scooped up her gym bag. “Hey, Suz, your gold Louboutins will go great with that dress.”

“Yes, but they’re in Brighton. And I’m only hanging out at Nathaniel’s cottage, right?”

“Suit yourself.” Avery shrugged, reaching for the doorknob.

“Right, Avery?”

“Whatever.” The door clapped behind Avery.

“Avery!” But she was gone.

Susanna turned back to Granny’s gown. It was beautiful. Expectation bloomed into excitement as she dashed upstairs to try it on.

She’d discovered Granny’s wedding dress when she was eleven and begged to try it on. When Granny finally relented, Susanna stood in front of the hallway mirror, her lean preteen body lost in the bodice and wide skirt, but her womanly heart was mesmerized.

She’d promised herself then and there she’d wear the gown for her wedding.

Someday. When true love found her. But once she became engaged to Nathaniel and started taking appointments with Brighton designers, she knew she’d never be able to wear something this simple and vintage to marry a king.

In her room, she turned on the light and closed the shades. Shimmying out of her jeans and top, she stepped through the crinolines and tulle, drawing the silky skirt over her hips, sensing the history and tradition of her grand-parents’ devotion slide along her skin.

The dress fit without her needing to suck in her gut or her breasts flowing over the top. Dashing to the closet, she shoved open the door for a pair of shoes. Maybe Avery had a pair she could wear.

She gasped when she flipped on the light. Oh bother, more tears.

There on the tile floor, neatly posed, were her gold-bedazzled Christian Louboutins. All the way from Brighton.

Susanna grinned, hugging the shoes to her chest. Thank You, Jesus. She didn’t care how they got there, just that they did. Whatever Nathaniel was planning for this evening, she would embrace it.

Because love was proving itself over and over, and conquering all her fears.





On Friday evening precisely at six forty, Susanna stepped onto the veranda, her gold Louboutin shoes resounding against the wide boards.

She breathed deeply, filling her lungs with the fragrance of the island. With the fragrance of love.

For the first time since she had said yes to Nathaniel, she felt like a princess.

The breeze dipped a bit lower and swished the hem of Granny’s gown, twirling the folds against her legs. She glanced down to see the gold and crystal shoes sparkling in the early evening light.

Gracie had insisted on sending a stylist from her salon to do Susanna’s makeup and hair. Lexi arrived at three thirty with her bag of magic tricks to fashion Susanna’s hair into a loose updo with long golden curls dangling about her neck, and to apply her makeup.

A laugh rumbled in her chest. She pressed her hand over her lips, keeping her smile inside, growing wider and warmer.

I am in love with a king. With Nathaniel of Brighton.