The Youngest Bridesmaid by Sara Seale

be expected to know, ” she replied.
    “ Yes, you have something there, ” he said quite mildly, then braked so violently to avoid a woolgathering cyclist that she caught at and then held to the padded armrest between them.
    “ Nervous? ” he asked, sounding rather as if he would enjoy frightening her.
    “ Yes, ” she said, too honest to wish to impress him with false courage, and he immediately reduced their progress to a reasonable cruising speed and gently loosening the grip of her hand on the arm rest, returned it to her lap.
    “ Relax, ” he said. “ Do you drive, Lou? ”
    “ No. ”
    “ One day I ’ ll teach you. ”
    “ Not in this! ”
    “ No, possibly not in this. A high-powered car, like a capricious woman, needs handling with understanding. ”
    “ What a very trite remark, ” observed Lou with surprise rather than with any wish to be pert, for she had not thought him obvious, and he brought the car to a sudden standstill by the side of the road with a squeal of tires on the wet tarmac.
    “ For the youngest bridesmaid who, until now, has been kept firmly in the background, you have developed a rather disconcerting mind of your own, my dear, ” he said, and she realized that he was angry.
    She drew a little away from him, fingering the run in her stocking, aware that her expressions of opinion had possibly been only a form of whistling in the dark.
    “ I ’ m sorry, ” she said. “ I didn ’ t mean to be rude. You just surprised me. ”
    “ In what way? ”
    “ Well—smart sayings like that. I shouldn ’ t have thought— ”
    “ Upon my soul, you ’ ve got a nerve! ” he interrupted, frowning down upon her. “ Did you think I was trying to impress you? ”
    “ N-not exactly. I—I don ’ t really know what to think any more. I still can ’ t believe any of it. ”
    H e caught the first suggestion of tears in her voice , and the irritable lines smoothed out in his face.
    “ You poor little thing, you ’ re worn out, aren ’ t you? ” he said. “ We ’ ve asked a lot of you, Blanche and I, but—will it help if I say I didn ’ t choose at random? ”
    “ Didn ’ t you? ” Her eyes were suspiciously bright and she sounded now as if she neither believed nor cared. “ But you ’ ve hardly noticed me. ”
    “ More than you think. For a start, you of all those twittering young women didn ’ t chatter neither did you fidget, and those are two good assets in a wife. ”
    She was conscious of fidgeting now, and instinctively sat on her hands. He was, she supposed, only trying to rally her with not very serious nonsense, but all the same, in implying that the choice had been his with little fear of refusal betrayed the fact that for him conquests had always been too easy. “ Piers— ” she began.
    “ Well? ”
    “ Nothing, ” she retracted lamely. She was too tired and too muddled to put her intimate feelings into words, too confused, she realized now, even to know what they were.
    “ Are you, by any chance, getting cold feet about our wedding night? ” he asked, t he old ironical twist back in his voice.
    “ No, ” she said. “ At least, that wasn ’ t what I was thinking of. ”
    “ Weren ’ t you, indeed? Well, remember what I told you coming back from the church. My plans don ’ t include a make - believe marriage. I wasn ’ t I sure if you quite understood. ”
    “ I understood perfectly, ” she replied gravely. “ You—you won ’ t find me ignorant. I ’ v e been taught the facts of life, you know. ”
    For a moment s h e glimpsed that flash of tenderness in his smile.
    “ I ’ m glad to hear it! I wouldn ’ t like you to find your Prince Charming had turned into an ogre—Cinderella, ” he said, and turned on the ignition.
    The powerful roar of the engine sounded rather like an ogre ’ s threat to eat you up, Lou thought, won dering for the first time what sort of lover he would ma k e and whether he would be selfish or considerate, then the