No Choice But Surrender by Meagan McKinney

Author:Meagan McKinney
Language: ron
Format: mobi
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

"Wait!" Brienne laughed, and her breath trailed behind her in frigid little puffs. She ran through the dormant kitchen gardens and headed toward the waiting coach. Beneath her fur-lined cloak, she pulled up the petticoat of one of her finest gowns—a lavender silk lutestring with embroidered bunches of pale yellow flowers—and almost flew over to the pebbled drive in front of the house. Glad that her hair was neatly bound in netting, she held on to the small hat that perched daintily on her head, tied with satin ribbons of butter yellow.

"You will make me late!" Rose cried from the coach, looking happy and beautiful wrapped in several layers of wedding white ermine. Peeking out from the fur blankets was her wedding gown, a lustrous periwinkle with a cream-colored satin petticoat; both were heavily brocaded in gold and silver threads.

When Brienne reached the coach, she allowed the footman to help her into it. Once inside, she reverently placed the well- trimmed branches of orange blossoms onto Rose's lap.

"They are beautiful! Brienne, how thoughtful!" Rose exclaimed and held the flowers, which were carefully bound by a white satin ribbon, to her nose. She inhaled their heady fragrance, which filled Avenel's japanned coach, and looking up, she said, "I wouldn't have believed those old trees in the Orangery could ever blossom again."

"It was their duty to blossom! Every bride needs fresh flowers on her wedding day!" Brienne leaned over to smell them as Rose held them out to her.

"I'm so happy. I never thought I would feel like this again." Rose looked out the coach window as they made their way over Osterley's grounds and through the gates to the small church in the township. It was a beautiful day. Brilliant, powerful sunshine beat down from the azure plain of the sky. With it, even the hard, winter earth was compelled to soften for Rose's wedding.

Brienne let out an unusually contented sigh and looked back at the weeks preceding this day.

She and Rose had spent many a happy hour planning the wedding, and during the evenings the two women, Cumberland, and Avenel had gathered in the gallery to dine and discuss the new arrangements. Brienne had seen very little of Avenel; he had made several day trips to London with Cumberland to make certain purchases, as well as arrangements for the honeymoon. But always, when the two men returned, Avenel was full of good spirits. He beckoned Brienne once again to go riding with him. She smiled secretly as she remembered the day she had first returned to Queenie's back. Avenel had walked over to her and the mare to instruct her in equitation. Placing a lingering, warm hand upon her ankle, he had pushed her heel down into the stirrup, and then, as if embarrassed by the moment, he had told her gruffly to keep it there or she would get into all sorts of trouble. She had tried to behave maidenly and to look away from him then, but it was no use; her feelings for him were growing every day, and they were anything but virginal.

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