The Bride Price

Chapter Six

Emily's father and sisters would accompany her to the church.

She reminded herself of that fact as she let Katie dress her hair with small, white flowers. She repeated it to herself on a whisper as Sarah helped her into her gown and slowly, slowly fastened every mother-of-pearl button that ran down between her shoulders. And as she adjusted the sleeves of her spencer and pulled on her gloves, she realized that she had begun to cling to the knowledge with every erratic beating of her heart.

They had decided beforehand to walk to the church, that esteemed building being so conveniently situated at only a mile distant from their front gate. Sarah and Katie appeared to be glad for the excursion, and linked arms with their sister while their father strode briskly forward several paces ahead.

"You look lovely," Sarah said, and gave Emily's arm a squeeze.

Emily took what reassurance she could from the words and smiled in thanks.

"I still think you should have worn the white gown," Katie piped in. "With all of that lovely lacework... It's a shame to see something so beautiful tucked away in the back of a musty old wardrobe."

"I do not care for that gown," Emily told her, and left it at that. She would not reveal to them that the white gown with all of the lovely lacework had been the very same gown she'd worn to her debut ball, the gown that had borne the unwanted fondling of a certain amorous Viscount. But with as much as it had cost, she would have to do something with it in order to feel that so much effort and money had not been wasted. Or she would simply hand it down to one of her sisters and let them alter it as they pleased.

"I wonder what Mister Hazlitt will be wearing," Katie went on, her every other step nearly turning into a skip as she struggled to disguise her excitement at the day's events. "But I do wish you'd give us a better description of him. One would think you'd show at least a passing interest in the man you're about to marry."

Emily began to roll her eyes heavenward, only to glance sideways and see that Sarah had done the same. "I gave you a very detailed description of all of Mister Hazlitt's... attributes. I answered your every question and I held nothing back. What more is there to say on the matter?"

Katie began to huff in protest, but a backwards glance from Sir Collicott suddenly wiped her expression of any complaint or misery.

"But you made a very grave mistake," Sarah whispered, careful not to attract another dose of attention from their father. "You only said that his eyes were blue. You failed to dissolve into poetic rhapsodies about their particular shade of blue. Are they as blue as a periwinkle?" she said, her voice gaining the tone of one reciting a dramatic monologue. "Or the blue of a windswept sea? Or perhaps they are the same shade of blue as the underside of a bluebird's wing as he streaks across the summer sky."

"Precisely!" Katie's eyes widened, taking Sarah's jests for complete sincerity. "And you said he had blond hair? Blond hair! That could mean anything."

"Oh, yes. Anything," Sarah said. "Why, he could even be a secret ginger, wearing powder to hide the freckles."

"But most importantly," Katie continued, ignoring her sister's comment. "You never even said whether or not you found him to be handsome!"

Emily kept her gaze fixed straight ahead. In the three weeks since she'd first laid eyes on Mister Hazlitt, it had never once crossed her mind to think of him in terms of handsome or ugly. He had certainly not been unattractive, to the best of her recollection. And his eyes... despite her sisters' nagging, she had to admit to herself that his eyes had been perhaps his most striking feature.

But she had not seen him for three weeks. Once he had left her in her father's study, and the preparations for the wedding had begun in earnest, he had neglected to call on her again. At first, she had not thought anything of it. Her own eagerness to spend as much time with her sisters had eaten through the hours of each day faster than she could've believed possible. But as the first week stretched into the second, she began to wonder if his absence was deliberate, or if it was nothing more than the routine activities of everyday life that prevented him from setting foot on their doorstep.