A March Bride (A Year of Weddings 1 #4)(5)

“Thank you, Henry.”

“Excuse me, darling.” Nathaniel turned to Susanna. “I’ll return momentarily.”

Susanna watched him walk off with Henry, their heads bent together. What could Henry want in private at a garden party honoring the king and his future bride?

The unease in Susanna’s heart surfaced and burned. Did Henry want to discuss something about Brighton? About Nathaniel? Or maybe his upcoming marriage?

Perhaps it had to do with Nathaniel’s mother. In public, Henry was the former prime minister. In private, he was Nathaniel’s stepfather, married to his mum, the Dowager Queen Campbell. They wed last July after the one-year anniversary of King Leopold V’s death.

Susanna scanned the atrium garden for Campbell, who was unmistakable in a bright yellow spring dress with a matching coat, shoes, and hat. Once she had taken off her mourning clothes, nothing but bright colors would do. The press was starting to notice, calling her Colorful Campbell.

“So,” Lady Genevieve began, interrupting Susanna’s thoughts. “Your wedding dress. We’re all dying to see it.” She wrinkled her nose. First at Susanna, then Winnie, Blythe, and Lady Ruthie. “Aren’t we? I don’t suppose I could get a sneak peek?”

Susanna marveled at the woman’s boldness. Asking to see her gown like they were best friends. They hardly knew each other, and Susanna trusted her about as much as sticking her hand into a dark hole in the ground. Never knew what might bite back.

“I’m afraid not.” Susanna gazed past Lady Genevieve’s slender shoulder, eyes fixed on Nathaniel’s back, his dark suit accenting his wide shoulders. “The designer and I are bound by an agreement of mutual exclusivity.”

“Really? Merry Collins made you sign an exclusivity?”

“I offered, if you must know. I wasn’t going to require something of her I was not willing to take on myself.”

Genevieve arched her brow. “She must love you.”

“We have a mutual respect,” Susanna said, irritated by this conversation. Irritated by the fact Nathaniel seemed to be in some sort of deep discussion with Henry—indicated by his pinched brow and squinting eyes. What was going on? This was supposed to be a party. A joyous celebration of their upcoming wedding.

Instead, Susanna felt a certain dread.

Nathaniel shoved back his jacket as he anchored his hands in his pockets. A sure sign he was frustrated. Annoyed. His signature move—hands in his pockets—was considered ill form in Parliament and at state events, so he’d broken the habit. Except in moments like now.

He nodded once. Then glanced back at Susanna.

Something was definitely wrong.

“. . . do you think you’ll work, Susanna?”

She switched her gaze to Winnie. “Work? Yes, as time allows. I’ve been consulting with AGH Partners, landscaping a new garden in tribute to King Leo.”

“Fantastic. Good for you. I always think the wife of the king should have a job, you know, hold on to her own identity.”

Hold on to her own identity? Winnie had no idea of what she spoke. Susanna had long given up on such an idea. She’d all but lost her identity the moment she said yes to Nathaniel and moved four thousand miles away to Brighton.

The only thing that remained of her was her American heritage. Which the press loved to point out.

A woman with a large pink hat stopped to talk to Lady Genevieve, but kept one eye on Susanna as they whispered and laughed.

Never mind. Nathaniel was coming her way, so Susanna excused herself.

“Nathaniel, what’s going on?”

His gaze communicated a raw, vivid fear. As if he were about to do something he didn’t want to but must.

Yep, she felt his cold glance all the way to her bone marrow. He was dumping her. Adam had the same look on his face that stormy afternoon on the beach.

“I’ve something to tell you.” He hooked his hand around her elbow and steered her toward the open French doors.

“You’re scaring me.” She walked with him, her strength draining.

“Your Majesty!” The party director hurried toward them with determined strides, waving her clipboard in the air. “We’re ready for the formal pictures now.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Janis.” Nathaniel sighed, looking down at Susanna. “We’ll talk after this.”

No, no, she couldn’t take it anymore. “We’ll talk right now. What is going on with you?”

“Susanna, please—” He smiled at Mrs. Janis, who waited with a frozen smile. “Let’s get the photograph. The Chadweths went to a great deal of effort to have this party for us.”

“What’s the point of this party or a photograph if you’re breaking up with me?”

“We’ll be right over here, Your Majesty.” Mrs. Janis backed up, pointing to the corner of the atrium where marble fountains spewed crystal water from angel wings.

“Just say it.” She became forthright when she was nervous. With Adam, she used their twelve-year history to launch an argument, but she only had eighteen months with Nathaniel. Ten of which they spent apart. “You regret proposing to me.”

“I what?” Nathaniel reared back. “What are you talking about, Susanna?”

“Well, do you? You’re distracted and distant. You’ve stopped talking to me about your life. You hardly smile or laugh when we’re together.”