[COMPLETED]
Two centuries. Two love stories. One holiday season.
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Every summer since she was eight years old, Nora leaves her home in New York to spend a few months at her aunt and uncle's English country manor in Hertford. She grows up playi...
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"Why, why, why, why, why, why."
After the sixth why, I broke off, groaning into my hands.
"Why what, Hunny?"
I peeked through my fingers at my mom. She hovered over me, holding my wedding dress in one hand and a curling iron in the other.
"Why on earth did I think it would be a good idea to have a Christmas Eve wedding when we live in New York?"
"Well," my mom began with a sigh, "I tried to warn you that it would be a little risky, Lana." She shrugged before crossing the dressing room to hang my gown on the empty rack. She glanced over her shoulder. "But you went on and on about how you wanted to have it near your and Hale's anniversary."
She plugged the curling iron into the wall, and I went back to groaning into my hands.
"I know why."
"But then—"
"I just can't believe I actually decided to go through with it. And now. Now. Now—"
I couldn't bring myself to say it.
My mom decided to help me out.
"And now there's practically two feet of snow outside."
"Yes. That," I said, my words muffled against my palms.
The room grew quiet for a bit, the only noises coming from my mom as she hurried about the room, preparing...well, I didn't know what she was preparing for. I'd all but given up, but apparently Mrs. Graham wasn't as easily convinced. "The wedding can still go on, Lana," she said finally.
"Mom, there are no guests here," I muttered, still staring at the floor through my fingers. I traced the golden fleur-de-lis patterns on the carpet with my eyes, sighing. "None of the bridesmaids, none of the groomsmen. The only people that are here are those that got ahead of the storm and came last night. So basically, just you and dad. Plus Hale's parents and his brother. And Pastor Richards, but that's only because we picked him specifically for the fact that he lives down the street."
"And your cousin, Asher."
I jerked my head up. "Sorry, who?"
Mom gave a little shrug but wouldn't meet my gaze. She busied herself with picking lint off her navy dress. "Your cousin, Asher, and his wife, Olivia. Hope you don't mind that I invited them."
"I mean...it's fine. But who is he? I didn't know I have a cousin named Asher."
Settling into the floral armchair across from me, my mom finally looked my way. "Well after those letters from last year, I started to dig into more of our genealogy. And so I reached out to the present Lord Trotten, who we are related to, although distantly."
I sat up straighter, my hands dropping into my lap. "Are you trying to tell me that there are no guests at my wedding except a distant cousin who is a British lord?"
