Free The True Love Wedding Dress by Catherine Anderson Page A

goodness for choir practice, Katie thought. He wouldn’t be there.
     
    Thank goodness for choir practice, Forde thought. She wouldn’t be home. He knocked on the door, pretending surprise when the cook/housekeeper told him the ladies were away.
    “I’ll wait, if I may, and if you have any of those raspberry tarts from last night’s tea. I need to speak to Mrs. Cole about the wedding, and I have been away from my own home far too long to delay. I promise I shall not keep your mistress up too late.”
    Mrs. Tarrant was highly susceptible to handsome smiles, pretty compliments, and gold coins. She tucked one of the last into her apron pocket and left his lordship alone in the library. For two gold coins he could have waited in Mrs. Cole’s bedchamber—or Mrs. Tarrant’s own. Forde asked to be shown to the library so he could find a book to read to wile away the time.
    The small room was more an office than a library, filled with old ledgers and new agricultural journals. After a cup of tea and an excellent pastry, Forde let his curiosity overcome his manners. He opened the topmost ledger, justifying his shameful intrusion by telling himself that as a conscientious guardian he had to know what Gerald was getting into. The lad would feel obliged to help his wife’s mother if the need arose, wouldn’t he? Forde might as well be hung for a wolf as for a sheep, so he read Mrs. Cole’s bank statements, too. He was amazed that two women could live on the income from that annuity. His sister-in-law could not have paid her dressmaker’s bills with that amount, much less fed and clothed her daughters. Now he felt guilty not only for trespassing but also for not sending over another ham.
    In remorse, or so he almost convinced himself, Forde picked up Mrs. Cole’s Bible, the one inscribed to her, or the name she was born with, anyway, the name she used on her graduation from Mrs. Meadow’s Select Academy for Gentlewomen.

Chapter Seven
    T he first inkling that the following day would not be one of Katie’s favorites came with the morning post. Gerald was delayed, he wrote, due to a promising mare. He would try to arrive in Brookville on Saturday, in time for the last reading of the banns on Sunday. And, he added, he had a wonderful surprise: He’d be bringing his mother and two younger sisters. They were eager to meet their new relation. Wasn’t that a delightful treat?
    Three houseguests, used to a lavish London life-style, a week early? Lovely.
    Katie was in a frenzy and Susannah was in tears, that dear Gerald cared more about his horses than her. That was before the wedding gown was delivered from the dressmaker. As Katie unwrapped the parcel, she knew she’d been right to urge her daughter to wear it. The gown was even more stunning with the blue ribbons and the circlet of blue forget-me-nots tacked to the neckline and at the hem. Just holding it made her certain her daughter’s marriage would be a happy one, and to the devil with anyone—any viscount—who thought otherwise.
    Then Susannah tried it on, to make sure the alterations were correct.
    The hem that had been too long, fitting Katie’s taller height, was now too short. Susannah’s ankles showed. The skirt that had been too full for fashion was now so narrow that Susannah could not take any but the smallest steps. The bodice that had been too loose was now so tight the gown would not close. The silk flowers fell off in the struggle to fasten the buttons, and the trailing ribbons tripped Susannah so she fell against the standing mirror, putting a crack in it.
    “It’s this awful gown! It’s bringing bad luck! Gerald is late and his mother is early and now the mirror is broken!”
    Could it be? Katie’s own wedding gown had burned in a fire; then, when she was about to wear this one, her fiancé died. And yet, when she picked the gown up from the floor where her daughter had thrown it, Katie felt lucky and hopeful and full of love.
    “No, my pet, it is