Storm of Bells

38. Big Day

'Ican'tbelievedisIcan'tbelievedisIcan'tbelievedis!'

'Calm down, please!'

'Calm down? 'ow am I supposed to calm down? I'm gonna be in a weddin'! A weddin'! And not just any old weddin'—a society weddin'!'

'Yes. But you missed an important point, Cora. It's not yours. The bride is supposed to be the one with wedding jitters.'

'Who da 'ell cares? Real ladies and gentlemen are gonna see me! Dey might even talk to me! And what if...what if Lord John...'

Cora cut off, her face turning tomato red, her eyes gazing dreamily into the distance.

Adaira gently patted Cora on her shoulder and, turning towards me, mouthed, 'Completely mental!'

I smiled and nodded, conveying the message, 'I know. Deal with it' without a single word. I had learned from the best, after all.

'Lilly!' The hiss from beside me came from Amy. Someone wicked and merciless—who could that have possibly been?—had found the whitest, most beautiful, frilly bridesmaid dress in existence and stuffed her into it. 'I 'ave a problem!'

My eyes swept over the lace of the dress. 'I can see that.'

'Not dat, you little idiot! Well, dat, too, but dat ain't my major problem!'

'You don't say.'

'I've got somethin' far worse to deal with!'

'Really?' Blackmail? Bullets flying around your ears?

'Someone 'as proposed to me!'

'Indeed?'

'A gentleman! A respectable one!'

'Shocking!' I grinned. 'You do remember that you're talking to a woman who's about to marry the lord of the manor?'

Sparks flickering in her eyes, Amy jabbed an elbow into my ribs. I, however, was happily fortified with a tough corset. I had done a really good job picking my wedding dress.

'You're 'opeless! I need help, do you 'ear? What am I supposed to say to 'im? What am I supposed to do?'

'Well...' I cleared my throat. 'Speaking from personal experience, you have three choices.'

'Yes?' Amy's eyes flared with hope.

'The first one is to accept.'

Amy pulled a face. 'Urgh! I said I wanted 'elp, not threats!'

'The second one would be to politely decline.'

Amy covered her face with her hands, clearly suffering. 'Politely?' came her voice from beneath her fingers, dull and filled with doom. 'Do I 'ave to?'

'Afraid so.'

'I couldn't just kick him in the—'

'I'm afraid that wouldn't be acceptable. At least not on my wedding day. It would mess up the schedule.'

The desperate young woman gave another groan. Finally, her hands lowered just enough to show her eyes, once again filled with hope. 'And da third option?'

'Well,' I replied cheerfully, 'You could reject him several times but simply be so irresistible that he asks you again and again, whereupon you finally accept, feeling really good about yourself in the process. Trust me, it does wonders for the ego.'

Amy buried her face in her hands again. 'Ye're the worst friend ever!'

'Indeed.' I nodded happily. 'Now, come over here and help this worst friend ever do her hair, will you?'