Page 80 of The Burning Passion of a Fiery Lady
She giggled, pressing the bouquet of wild roses and peonies against her nose for just a moment, inhaling deeply. She wanted to always remember this scent. It would forever remind her of this perfect day when she finally became Mrs Susannah Stone, at long last.
She took a deep breath. The Widow Drake was gone … forever. Oh, the joy of it.
She turned her back to her wedding guests. Or to be more specific, the crowd of unmarried, eligible ladies that had gathered like a flock of starlings, giggling and jostling each other, in their eagerness. Susannah knew that they would smile at each other, pretending it was all in good fun, but secretly, they would all be straining to catch the bouquet. To become the next bride amongst the group.
“Ready?” she called, over her shoulder.
“Ready!” called a dozen voices, all different pitches, and tones.
Susannah closed her eyes for a moment.
One, two, three …
She tossed the bouquet over her shoulder, hearing the mad scramble for it, feet scurrying, elbows pushing. And then, suddenly, there was a cheer from the victor.
She turned around, smiling, trying to see through the crowd. Eventually, she saw a hand, gripping the bouquet tightly as if it was just about to be reefed out again. Who did it belong to?
And then she saw. It was her cousin, Josephine. She was the one clutching the bouquet, looking as proud as punch as if she had done something very clever indeed.
Susannah kept staring at her. Her heart melted just a little, and tears welled up in her eyes, yet again, as she gazed at her cousin.
The awkward young girl gazed back at her, a little overwhelmed. Susannah supposed she hadn’t been expecting to catch it.
I’m glad, she thought.I am so glad that Josephine was the one to get it.
It could have been caught by so many prettier girls. Like Miss West, with her golden ringlets and big baby blue eyes. Or Miss Little, who was ever so elegant, in her frosted blue silk, and her sardonic gaze. Or even Miss Miller, who dimpled flirtatiously whenever a young man even glanced her way and was so very tiny she reminded Susannah for all the world of Thumbelina.
All of those girls were confident, pretty, assured. They would probably have a ring on their finger within a twelvemonth, with no particular effort from them. Life was easy for such girls, after all. They were exactly what society said a young lady should be.
But not Josephine.
Susannah stared harder at her cousin, noting the tall, awkward gait, the mousy brown hair that hung limply to her shoulders and the smattering of blemishes across her cheeks. Flirting, and finding a husband, did not come easily to her. Even today, Susannah had vaguely noted that she had hung back from the group, sitting against the wall, while all the other young ladies danced. A wallflower, who probably never dared to hope that it could ever be any different.
“Well done!” she called, beaming at her cousin.
Josephine blushed a little. All the girls were staring at her enviously. Suddenly, she was whisked away by a crowd of girls, almost carrying her back towards the hall, where the wedding celebrations continued.
Susannah knew that for the next half an hour, Josephine would be the centre of attention. Maybe even a young man or two would ask her to dance, just so the gloss of her achievement could rub off on them, just a little.
Susannah stared back at them for another moment, lingering.
“Come on,” said Jasper with a laugh, grabbing her hand again. “The deed is done, now. Why are you waiting?”
“I don’t know,” she said slowly, still watching the crowd of girls drifting away. “Perhaps I just want the underdog to win. Perhaps I just want the underdog to get a chance, too …”
“What are you talking about, woman?” he barked, mock frowning. “Come on, get in the carriage. Our love nest is awaiting us, after all.”
She shook off her reverie, almost like a cloud of dust hovering around her. Laughing, she gripped his hand tighter as he pulled her into the carriage. They both collapsed into the seat, laughing harder still.
“Good luck!” The crowd were calling to them.
The next minute, the carriage lurched, and they were away, at long last.
Susannah turned to her new husband, leaning in close, just so that she could smell him. He looked so very handsome today, in his black britches, black jacket, and snow white shirt. He had looked very nervous, too, as he had watched her, walking down the aisle towards him, in St Agnes’ church.
“Happy?” he whispered, into her hair.
She nodded, suddenly so overwhelmed that she barely trusted herself to speak. It had been a whirlwind of a day; she could only recall it in flashes, really. Seeing his face as she walked towards him.
