"Oh," she said, "you have Elizabeth to thank for that. She is the one who convinced me that this gown was the one and that I would look better with just flowers in my hair than with a bonnet and veil."
"I meant," he said, "in your blue cotton dress with your army cloak and nothing in your hair at all. Not even a hairpin."
"Oh." She bit her lip. "What a lovely thing to say. And you were never more handsome than in your well-worn regimentals. Neville, how fortunate we are to have two such wedding days to remember."
"Uh-oh," he said suddenly. He was looking ahead along the lane while Lily was still looking into his face. She turned her head sharply.
"Oh, dear," she said.
Every servant from Rutland Park, she would swear, from the butler on down to the lowliest undergardener, was out on the terrace. They were neatly lined up in order of rank to greet the newlyweds. They were also—every last one of them—armed to the teeth with flower petals.
Neville set an arm about Lily's shoulders and bent his head to look into her face. She gazed back at him. Their lovely interlude of privacy was over, it seemed. At least for now.
"Until tonight, my love," he said.
"Yes," she said wistfully. "Until tonight."
They turned laughing faces toward the servants and the floral ambush awaiting them.
Table of Contents
PART I
PART II
PART III
PART IV
PART V