Free The True Love Wedding Dress by Catherine Anderson

the village. We’ll catch dinner for you, my dear, see if we don’t.”
    The viscount was everything polite, and more appetizing than the steak-and-kidney pie or kippers and eggs, in his doeskin breeches and hunting coat. Katie hurried Susannah away.
    “Gerald’s uncle is very handsome, do you not think?” Susannah asked as they drove into the village.
    “Very.”
    “Far more good-looking than Mr. Doddsworth.”
    Katie had to laugh. Comparing the squire to the viscount was like comparing a plowhorse to a Thorough-bred.
    “But he is not as handsome as Gerald.”
    “Oh, never.” Gerald was a green colt. His nose was not as prominent as his uncle’s, thank goodness for Katie’s hoped-for grandsons and daughters, but Gerald did not have Forde’s air of dignity, authority, and elegance. Only age could bring that to a man, Katie thought, although the viscount might have had that aura of assurance even as a youth.
    “He is a bit haughty.”
    “Gerald?”
    “Do not be silly, Mother. I mean his uncle, of course.”
    “Oh, his lordship’s arrogance is merely part of being a wealthy titled gentleman. People have been toadying to him his entire life, I’d assume.”
    “Have you known many peers, then? He is my second, after Lord Martindale.”
    “I have known enough. Do you think we should select the silk flowers first or the ribbons?”
    Susannah was not to be diverted. “He is not condescending, though. We had a nice conversation about music.”
    “Did you, darling? How nice, since he is Gerald’s trustee.”
    “His manners are pleasing.”
    Toward everyone else, it seemed. He had no manners where Katie was concerned, but she would not disturb Susannah with her worries. “He is a gentleman. I should hope he knows how to act. Squire’s younger sons might learn more from him in a morning than I have been able to teach them in months.”
    “Gerald says the ladies of the ton have given up pursuing him.”
    Katie flicked the whip over her mare’s ear, to hurry her along. “I doubt his lordship runs far or fast from a willing woman.”
    Now Susannah laughed. “Unless she is seeking marriage. Gerald thinks his uncle is waiting for someone as beautiful as his first wife.”
    What with all the belles in London over the years, Lady Forde must have been a Diamond beyond measure. Katie suddenly felt ugly and old. “It is not polite to gossip about your relative-to-be.”
    Susannah looked over at her mother and studied Katie’s profile. “You know, you looked quite lovely last night, with your hair up like that. You should wear it that way more often.”
    “What, to feed the chickens?”
    “To attract a certain gen—”
    “Here we are!”
    Susannah threw herself into the selection of trimmings for the wedding gown and her hair, thank goodness, instead of matchmaking. Then she complained how scratchy the gown was, when she had to try it on for the seamstress to pin.
    “That is impossible, when the gown has the finest fabric and the neatest seams in creation.”
    Now the dressmaker was in a taking that Mrs. Cole was praising another modiste’s workmanship over hers. Mrs. Peebles wanted to refuse the commission to shorten the hem, narrow the skirt, tuck up the bodice, and add the trimmings; heaven knew she could not match those perfect stitches. She had gained much commerce from the coming wedding, however, and hoped for more from the Cole ladies. She would start right in on the fancy garment, she promised. Right after she had a bit of wine to steady her hand.
    Clouds had covered the sun by the time the fitting was over, and Susannah’s mood was just as black. Katie offered the treat of a luncheon at the Brookville Inn, rather than go home only to drive back in the coming rain for tea at the vicarage.
    Viscount Forde had left the shooting party rather than suffer another drenching and was eating his own meal . . . at the Brookville Inn.
    He was also invited to the Reverend Mr. Carlson’s house for tea.
    Thank