Free The Bridal Season by Connie Brockway Page B

of dry toast. “I recall your saying something to that charming Sir Elliot
about a picnic today?”
    “Yes,” Eglantyne said, hoping Lady Agatha liked the outdoors.
She certainly looked like a, er, healthy young woman. “Our other guests
will be arriving at about four o’clock.”
    “Delightful!” Lady Agatha smiled happily. She returned to the
breakfast table, her hips undulating in a graceful and impressive manner. Not
that Lady Agatha needed to move in order to be impressive. Not in that dress,
Eglantyne thought, feeling the warmth creep into her cheeks.
    Lady Agatha began to hum, a catchy little ditty that stuck in
the mind and sounded somehow... well, a bit fast Eglantyne, as bemused
by the ditty as the dress, picked up the breakfast bell and rang it
frantically.
    She wished Cabot would hurry. Cabot would know what to do and
how to react. He was the perfect butler. She didn’t know how to respond to
Society ladies or what to say. This whole affair of hiring an aristocratic
employee, the marquis’s exalted family coming so soon, Angela’s impending
marriage, and then the fact that she’d be going away and never coming back
again—
    Eglantyne’s eyes clouded over with tears. She had the most
awful foreboding that everything was going to go horribly awry. And then Lady
Agatha was beside her, sliding into the chair next to hers and laying a hand
gently on Eglantyne’s forearm. “What’s wrong, du—darling?”
    “Nothing,” Eglantyne said bravely, but the unexpected sympathy
in Lady Agatha’s voice threatened her composure. She couldn’t confide in
a stranger, especially such an illustrious one.
    “Are you sure?” Lady Agatha prodded gently. Her warm brown
eyes were steady and just a little bit amused, not in a mocking way, but in an oddly
reassuring way, as if there was no trouble in the world that one couldn’t laugh
away.
    “I am so glad you are here,” Eglantyne burst out. “I feel so
inadequate for the whole ugly—Oh!” As soon as the horrible word was out she
regretted it. Heat flamed in her cheeks. “How awful you must think me!”
    “Why? Whatever for?” Lady Agatha said.
    Eglantyne gazed at her thankfully for kindly ignoring the all
too obvious fact that she’d just about called her dear, darling Angela’s
upcoming nuptials “the whole ugly task.” As if it were some onerous chore, like
scouring a floor or blacking shoes and not a cause for... for cele ...
celebra...
    Eglantyne burst into tears.
    Letty stared at her, stricken. She couldn’t imagine what had
set Eglantyne off. Not that she was concerned, mind you; why should she be?
Eglantyne Bigglesworth had everything a body could want. And it was only that
she was curious about what could cause a rich woman to sob so pitifully that
she put her arm around the older woman’s shoulder and gave a little squeeze.
    Eglantyne lifted her head. Her eyes were puffy and red and her
nose was dripping. As Letty didn’t suppose Eglantyne was the type who’d take
advantage of her sleeve, she picked up the tidily folded napkin beside her
plate, snapped it open, and held it under Eglantyne’s nose. “Here, dear, blow
your nose. There’s a girl....Now then, why don’t you tell me what these tears
are about?”
    “I really shouldn’t trouble you...”
    “Nonsense. It is my job to be troubled. I mean, to facilitate
weddings. If something is amiss, then I can’t do my job properly, can I?”
    “I suppose not. But there’s nothing amiss, really. It’s just
that... I don’t know. I suppose I’m a foolish, selfish old woman. I want
Angela’s happiness more than anything in the world, but oh! I shall miss her
so—oo—oo.”
    She burst into tears again.
    “Of course you will,” Letty crooned, wrapping her arm around
Eglantyne’s shoulders and rocking her gently. When Eglantyne’s shaking
subsided, Letty shoved the wrinkled napkin into her hand again. “That doesn’t
mean you are selfish. It simply means you love Angela.”
    “Oh, I do! I do!” Eglantyne blew her nose.
    “And you’ve been mum to her