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

“Ginny, love, where’ve you been?” Blythe leaned forward to air-kiss Lady Genevieve’s cheeks.

“Bowing out of another engagement.”

Lady Genevieve was everything a crown prince-turned-king would want in a wife. A former Miss Brighton and Olympic lacrosse champion, she was stunning, sexy, and intelligent. Worse yet, she had once vied for Nathaniel’s heart.

He’d refused her, choosing Susanna instead. But perhaps now, as the wedding neared and he had a chance to watch Susanna function in royal situations like this hoity-toity garden party, he wished he’d made a better choice.

Susanna flipped her gaze up at Nathaniel. Was he staring at Ginny with any longing or affection?

No, he was staring down at her. Susanna finally felt a bit of warmth in his expression. He smiled and her knees went weak.

“We’re telling the story of the skiing bear,” Nigel said.

“Oh my word.” Lady Genevieve rolled her eyes. How did she make even that look alluring? “What a grand time we all had.” She ha-ha’d like she ate diamonds for breakfast and flossed with spun gold. “Of course I knew you’d escape, darling. Naturally.” Lady Genevieve fell against Nathaniel, caressing his arm. Then she shot Susanna a sly glance. “Susanna, darling, gorgeous dress. Love the orange flowers and vintage vibe. A Molly Turnwalt design or I’ll turn in my fashionista card.”

Susanna smoothed her hand over the ivory skirt with its splash of orange blossoms. “From her spring line, yes.”

“In college, I only wore Molly Turnwalt.” Lady Genevieve laughed with Winnie. “Remember her T-shirts and peg-leg jeans? Oh, to be twenty-two again.”

Susanna burned with embarrassment, breathing deep, refusing her soul the sweetness of firing off a sour retort. Lady Genevieve was trying to make Susanna look out of touch and childish.

“Ginny, darling—” Nigel shoved her aside. “I’m telling a story.”

“Oh right, Ni, I forgot it’s all about you.” Lady Genevieve rocked back, folding her arms, pulling a face. “Do go on.”

A twittering laugh floated through the group with familiar, longtime-friend glances. Susanna hated feeling like a wallflower. She peeked up again at Nathaniel to discover he was watching Ginny, a slight smile on his lips.

Susanna felt sick. Weak. She’d been here before. Two years ago. On the beach at home with her longtime boyfriend, Adam Peters. She had expected him to propose, but instead he toiled with the words to end their relationship.

“I’ve found the right ring but not the right girl.” Adam Peters’s confession still pierced through her heart at the oddest times.

But she’d been so committed to her plan to marry him that Susanna had refused to see the truth. They were not right for each other.

Well, she refused to be so naive this time. If she and Nathaniel had wandered down a dark romantic dead end, then she’d be the one to turn on the light.

However, she’d not give up just yet. She joined the conversation, turning to face Nathaniel. “Since clearly you lived, I suppose you found a way out of this bear collision?” Susanna stepped closer to her fiancé, sending a signal to Lady Genevieve to back off. Susanna was the one wearing Nathaniel’s ring.

“Yes, I managed to calculate an escape.”

“Escape?” Nigel laughed. “Susanna, he performed a feat only Houdini would attempt. To the right there was a thick stand of trees. An option worse than running into the bear. Trees don’t frighten and run off. To the left”—Nigel arched his hand through the air—“was a tumble over the side of the mountain with a straight drop down to the rocks.”

“I had no choice but to ski into the bear,” Nathaniel said.

“You really skied into the bear?” Susanna smiled, searching his expression for truth. For hope.

“Not exactly. As I whisked closer and closer, going faster and faster, I started yelling for the bear to move, but he merely stared at me as if I annoyed his sleepy thoughts. I braced for impact when I hit one of nature’s moguls and—” Nathaniel whistled, slicing his hand through the air.

“He went airborne,” Nigel said.

“You jumped the bear?” Susanna liked the mental image of a young prince soaring through the air, his regal, chiseled features cutting through the icy breeze as he hurdled a sleepy, hungry winter bear.

“Cleared him by a good four feet,” Nigel said.

“It was spectacular. You should’ve seen it.” Genevieve’s tone carried a subtle reminder. I’m a part of Nathaniel’s inner circle, and you, Susanna, are an interloper. “We sat around the fire talking of it all night.”

“Say, Nig, didn’t Hampsted film it with his camera?” Morton snapped his fingers, remembering. “He was always sticking that thing in our faces.”

“By George, I believe he did.” Nigel stretched, searching over their heads. “He’s round here somewhere with his new wife. Ah, there he is . . . Hammie.”

Nigel and Lord Michael scurried off to hound Hammie about his home movie while the distinguished Henry Montgomery, Brighton’s former prime minister, approached Nathaniel.

“Pardon, Your Majesty, might I have a word?” He bowed slightly, then smiled at Susanna. “You are looking lovely as ever, Susanna.”