The Bride Read Free Page A

“Though Matilda is rarely thwarted once she sets her mind to something.”
    John could have guessed that. He’d already developed an intense dislike for the Fiske matron. But as he watched Sir whats-his-name whisk Eleanor about the crowded dance floor, John decided he didn’t much care for the Englishman either. He was fair and ruddy complected, with a build that in a few years would spread to portly. “She deserves better than that,” John mumbled, only realizing he spoke aloud when Franklin turned toward him questioningly.
    But the strains of the violins were fading and John merely shrugged and led the way toward Mrs. Fiske. She managed John’s introduction by her husband with barely concealed distaste. John could almost see her mind racing through lists of names, and not finding his. And wondering what in blazes he was doing there in the midst of Newport splendor.
    Not that he couldn’t afford such a lifestyle if he wished. Then with a twinge of dread, John realized he would most likely have to build one of these monstrous houses, more than likely two. For he’d need a place for his family to live in New York during the winters.
    But being wealthy and being accepted by society were two different things entirely. The Mrs. Astor, as she insisted upon being called, said it took three generations for a family to be accepted once they acquired the needed wealth. John wasn’t willing to wait the prescribed time. His children were never going to suffer as he had.
    Eleanor felt her heartbeat quicken the moment she saw John Bonner standing with her mother and father. She missed whatever frivolity Sir Alfred said, and then had to apologize for not listening. And all the while she wished they could move across the ballroom faster.
    “There you are, Eleanor.” Her mother was the first to speak when she and Sir Alfred reached the group, and her tone was brittle. “Mr. Bonner has asked permission to partner you for the next dance but I assured him you already promised it to another.”
    Disappointment shot through her so quickly and completely that Eleanor felt faint. Only the thought of how ungraceful she would appear sprawling onto the floor kept her upright. She took a breath, looking first at her mother, then, though she knew it was a mistake, toward Mr. Bonner. Her mouth seemed to open of its own volition.
    “Actually, Mother, I have this dance free.” Eleanor hardly recognized the words or the voice as her own. Obviously her mother didn’t either for now she looked ready to swoon. And though Eleanor knew she should feel concern, she couldn’t summon that emotion. When Bonner offered his arm she took it readily. From the corner of her eye she noticed her father’s restraining hand clamp over Matilda’s.
    Oh, how marvelous to look into a shirtfront rather than straight into her partner’s eye, or worse to count hair follicles. For a moment Eleanor luxuriated in that and the feel of his large hand on the small of her back. She could have gone on like that forever if he hadn’t spoken.
    “I don’t think your mother wanted me to dance with you.”
    Eleanor glanced up. “Oh, I’m sure that isn’t the case,” she hastened to lie, but could feel the telltale color creep up her neck. Dropping her head she tried to concentrate on his pearl shirt buttons.
    “Please, don’t do that.”
    “What?”
    “Look down. I’d much rather see your pretty face than the top of your head... or worse, this stupid feather.”
    It shouldn’t have struck her as funny. It was part of her apparel he was maligning. But she couldn’t help laughing. When she lifted her eyes she saw that he was grinning down at her.
    “But you know, of course, the headdress, along with my gown was designed by the Messrs. Redfern, and that they also dress Princess Beatrice?”
    “Queen Victoria’s daughter?” John shook his head. “I am impressed.”
    “Don’t be. My mother actually requested the feathers. She’s very fond of them.”
    “And