A June Bride by Teresa DesJardien Page B

equilibrium. It had helped to have everyone tell her she was beautiful, to fuss over her, and since they all knew exactly why the precipitate wedding had gone forth, tactfully no one asked awkward questions.
    “Shall we go?” Geoffrey said, taking her hand and pulling her through the crowd without really waiting for an answer. “Back to New Garden House, everyone, for luncheon and champagne,” he called out, and was promptly cheered by all the men and not some few of the ladies.
    ***
    After the first paralyzing shock had worn off, Alessandra had found it was easy enough to smile her fool’s smile. She and her groom were toasted and teased, petted and pampered. Her glass was kept filled with champagne, a drink she’d never had before and knew had to be smuggled goods. Papa was not above obtaining the odd luxury here or there. She finally had to ask that her glass be taken away altogether, else she would become inebriated at her own wedding. Her plate was filled and brought to her where she sat just to Geoffrey’s right at one end of the main dining table. All the young bucks tried to outdo one another in the extravagance of their compliments, for a new bride could be safely flirted with. Aunt Agatha’s jewels flashed on Alessandra’s throat and in her hair, and a fine gold wedding band graced her left hand. If there had been an atmosphere of scandal or disharmony when first the hasty wedding was announced, it had evaporated since. Everywhere she looked there were smiling faces and happy laughter.
    Other than her own mostly pushed-aside misgivings, one sour note touched the day. Once the newlyweds had risen from dining, they went around to each of the attendees. Geoffrey stopped before two ladies Alessandra did not immediately recognize. She would have thought nothing of a pause, except this one went on rather long—and did Geoffrey and the younger of the ladies exchange a distinct gaze into one another’s eyes? The moment passed just as Alessandra glanced up at Geoffrey, who introduced them. “Alessandra, I believe you know Lady Bremcott and Miss Jacqueline Bremcott. Lady Bremcott, Miss Bremcott, my wife, Lady Huntingsley.”
    Good heavens. I am Viscountess Huntingsley now. Perhaps one day to be the Countess of Chenmarth…?
    And, yes, I recognize the younger lady now… Like the Hamiltons, in years past the Bremcotts had been visitors to the Chenmarth estates. Alessandra had played with a young Jacqueline on more than one occasion. “How lovely to see you again,” she said, finally having seen the girl in the woman.
    The two ladies murmured their felicitations. “Such a lovely wedding. Your mother must be proud to have put it together so...cleverly,” Lady Bremcott said.
    “Why, thank you,” Alessandra said, her smile failing at the censure she could not miss. She lifted her chin. “I shall tell her you approve.”
    A singular eyebrow rose above Lady Bremcott’s austere expression, but she offered no further comment.
    Jacqueline Bremcott instead offered her gloved hand. “You must be good to my dear...to Geoffrey. He is the finest fellow, and deserves the very best.” She raised her green eyes and gazed frankly at him, this time quite unmistakably. She kept her eyes on his, even as she leaned in to plant a saluting kiss on a surprised Alessandra’s cheek. Just as quickly, she did the same to Geoffrey, on both cheeks, where two touches of pink spread. His expression had gone strangely set. “I know you will wish to be an obedient wife, for his sake,” Miss Bremcott told Alessandra, even though she did not shift her gaze from Geoffrey.
    Alessandra knew a sudden urge to also tiptoe up against her husband for two quick cheek kisses, though she’d had no such thought a minute ago.
    “I shall do my best,” she said, bringing a thin smile to her lips.
    Jacqueline responded merely, “Ah, yes.”
    The two younger women looked at each other steadily. Alessandra saw the delicate figure before her, the rich