The Promise Bride by Welborn Gina; Whitham Becca

Author:Welborn, Gina; Whitham, Becca [Welborn, Gina; Whitham, Becca]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2017-08-28T18:30:00+00:00

Palmer family dining room

Later that morning

“When did you first realize you were in love?”

Emilia stopped stitching a pearl bead onto the tulle bridal veil. She looked at Miss Carline Pope, trying to gauge why she’d ask such a bold question. Despite Miss Pope’s twice-a-week shopping trips to The Resale Co., they’d never exchanged more than a few words. Not long after Emilia and Luci arrived at the bride’s tea, Miss Pope had shared how she, too, had only been invited because of her friendship with Yancey Palmer, the ever-welcoming maid of honor. With their blond hair, blue eyes, and striking looks, Miss Pope and Yancey ought to have a fair share of gentlemen callers. Yet neither were courting.

“With Finn,” Miss Pope added softly. “I think how you met is so romantic.”

Yancey smiled at the ladies around the table. “I was Emilia’s proxy.”

And then she and Miss Pope focused on Emilia in expectation. More like in desperation for her to confirm their own struggles with knowing whether they were truly in love. What was she supposed to say? Yes, Yancey, your feelings for Hale Adams are true, and in time he will reciprocate? Emilia had no deep insight into love. Nor could she see the future. Of course the object of Miss Pope’s affection could be Geddes Palmer. Or one of the Gunderson twins. Or any one of the numerous bachelors who attended their church or lived about town.

Except Mac.

Emilia had never seen Miss Pope speak with Mac for any length of time. She couldn’t believe Miss Pope bore tender feelings for him. If she did, and Mac reciprocated, Emilia would be happy for them. She would. But Mac and Miss Pope together seemed wrong. Very wrong. And just the thought of it made her chest hurt.

Someone made a noise. Emilia glanced around the table. The six older women sitting around the tulle-covered table had stopped stitching pearl beads onto the veil’s edge. All stared at Emilia.

The cloying scent of a dozen potted lilacs permeated the dining room as the women sat there and stared. And stared.

“I’m not sure,” Emilia answered and hoped the conversation would move on. She looked at the bride, desperate for someone else to answer Miss Pope’s question. “Luanne, what about you and Mr. Bennett? When did you know you wanted to marry him?”

Miss Alice Rigney, sitting between her mother and Mrs. Hollenbeck, leaned forward on her chair. Her gaze narrowed on Emilia. “How can you not be sure?” she said, her voice somewhere between curiosity and impatience. “That doesn’t make sense to me. You had to have known you loved Mr. Collins or else you wouldn’t have agreed to marry him.”

“Alice!” Mrs. Rigney grabbed her daughter’s arm, pulling her back. “Don’t be impolite.”

Emilia’s face warmed. Her cheeks surely matched her dress. Hearing chuckles, she looked to where Luci and Melrose were huddled in a corner of the room, but their attention was focused on whatever Melrose was sketching in her journal.

“I apologize, Mrs. Collins,” Mrs. Rigney said.

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