Andrew stood open-mouthed like a carp as Diana stalked off, leaving her veiled threat behind her. The swish of her hair sent his train of thought into the ditch, especially as he imagined threading his fingers through it.
Beyond her beauty, he admired her loyalty to her mother. Jackie drove him to the brink of insanity, and he’d known her less than a day. Yet, Diana took her mother’s idiosyncrasies in stride. What would it be like to share a life with someone as devoted as Diana? He slammed the door on the thought. Love was a luxury that pauper princes like Uncle Neville and he couldn’t afford.
“Right. What was I doing?”
Neville’s entrance onto the terrace brought Andrew’s thoughts to the task at hand. “Uncle, we so rarely get to enjoy such fine weather. Shall we watch the festivities from here?” His scheme would work only if his uncle witnessed the debacle surely to come. He motioned for Neville to join him at one of the cushioned seats lining the flagstone terrace.
“Capital idea. I can’t wait to see my Jackie in action.” He peered over the edge at the knot garden maze as if he expected her to spring from behind the shrubs. “She has quite a way with people, you know.”
“So you keep saying.” Andrew studied the ornate garden encompassing nearly two acres. Divided into niches and herb-bordered sections, each area drew visitors in with a variety of plants. Even a non-gardener like himself could appreciate the amount of planning and work it took to execute such beauty. Jackie’s real talent lay with flora not fauna.
While the wedding venue benefitted from enormous shade trees, the late morning sun bore down on them. By the noon wedding, he’d be as red as a tomato. He blew out his breath as a bee buzzed overhead. “I’d kill for a pint right about now.” However, the ringside seat would serve the desired purpose.
Neville removed his straw hat and fanned himself. “Mad dogs and Englishmen, my boy.”
A staff member he’d met previously approached from the stairs below. Rebecca set a tray on the table between them. “Miss Diana sent these over for your enjoyment.”
“Thank you.” He studied the plate of crust-less sandwiches and small appetizers. “Is this the wedding fare?”
“Yes, sir.”
“That’s all of it?”
Rebecca nodded. “With many newcomers moving in and marrying our folks, people now have sit-down receptions, but a good number still serve only light refreshments after the ceremony.”
Uncle Neville raised a small cup of bright red liquid. “What in God’s name is this concoction?”
“Raspberry punch, a long-standing favorite made with sherbet and Sprite.”
“No alcohol.” Uncle Neville’s surprise matched his own. How did one properly celebrate a nuptial without at least a little champagne?
The server shook her head. “There won’t be any alcohol at this wedding—nor dancing either. Not when the bride’s family is among the founding members of First Baptist Church.”
“It should be over and done with by tea time at that rate.”
“Two hours tops start to finish.” Rebecca pointed to the glasses of punch. “Give it a taste and tell me what you think.”
Andrew took a tentative sip and got exactly as his eyes predicted. The sugary liquid coated his throat, and the half-melted sherbet did nothing to quench his thirst. “God, that’s awful.”
Uncle Neville sputtered. “That can’t possibly be Greenbrier’s signature drink. It’s more likely to put Diana out of business.”
Rebecca grinned. “I couldn’t agree with you more, Your Grace. Our signature nonalcoholic drink is a refreshing sparkling lemonade I’ll happily bring you.”
“Sounds lovely,” Andrew said, though he still craved a good ale.
Rebecca was quick in bringing the promised lemonade, and after one sip, he had to admit it did an excellent job of helping him forget the humidity.
“Speaking of lovely, there’s my exotic bird.”
Jackie entered the garden from the gate leading to the family quarters. However, instead of making a beeline to the early arriving guests, she trotted toward the arbor at the back of the garden where the ceremony would take place. Dressed in canary yellow, she stood out among the subtle green and ivory of the shade garden. It made for ease in watching as she flitted around the space, adjusting the floral arrangements. However, she should have been attending to her duties.
Case in point, a young couple who’d wandered the garden for several minutes approached Andrew and Neville. “Could you tell me where to place the gifts?”
“Just a moment. Let me find the event coordinator.” Andrew scanned the garden for Jackie. Where had she disappeared to? “Uncle, do you see her?”
Neville leaned over the railing. “I’m not sure…”
“As duchess she can’t—”
“There she is!” Neville gestured triumphantly to a stand of hydrangeas. “That lovely woman in yellow can assist you.”
After the couple left, while Neville kept up a one-sided conversation about Jackie’s gardening skills, Andrew waited for the woman’s next faux pas.
Shortly, the bride exited the mansion, an entourage of female attendants and a photographer in tow.
“I want to get a few shots under the trees while the light is right.” He pointed toward two oaks providing canopy for a stand of thick shrubs. “I’ll get you back inside before your groom sees you.”
The presence of the bride caught Jackie’s attention, and she trotted on high heels over to the party. Rather than offering help, or simply observing, she interrupted the photographer several times, tugging on the guy’s sleeve or standing between him and the bride. Finally, the photographer extracted something from his bag and handed it to Jackie.
Andrew cut his eyes at his uncle to make sure Neville was absorbing Jackie’s behavior. If she became the Duchess of Effingham—God forbid—she would be the most senior woman in the county, social speaking. However, that didn’t mean she could intrude or be overbearing. Quite the contrary, a true duchess didn’t need to exert her position.
When Andrew looked back, Jackie had wandered away from the bride and was making a circuit from a table where the guests could sign a large picture frame, over to the gift table, and then to the caterers who were setting up for the reception. There, a conversation took place between her and a woman pouring bottles of red liquid into a punch bowl. The server handed Jackie a large tumbler of the vile punch, and she walked to the next station.
In the meantime, Uncle Neville had ceased his running compliments. Even as love struck as he was, the man had to see Jackie was rubbish at organizing the event. The ceremony would begin in thirty minutes, guests were roaming the property, the caterers were off schedule, and Jackie was—chatting with the flower girl.
Bloody hell, his plan simply had to work. There was no way this woman could be the next duchess.
A sob from below the terrace caught his attention. “I can’t believe Tommy’s mother would do that.”
Andrew leaned forward to see the bride and her mother. “I told you Delores Perdue is off her rocker.” Dressed in a subtle shade of blue, the fortyish woman pointed several yards away to another middle-aged matron.
“Is she really dressed like that?” Uncle Neville asked, giving voice to his own question. The large woman had squeezed herself into a strapless ball gown—in the purest white imaginable. She even wore a short veil.
“What am I going to do?” The bride stretched the final syllable of her query into a whine that pierced his eardrum. “I’m the only one who’s supposed to be in white.”
“You’d think she would know that. But you know what I always say, breeding will tell.”
The bride stomped her foot. “Well, Mother, being right all the time isn’t helping us out of this situation, now is it?”
“Short of ripping the thing off her, I don’t know what we can do.”
The bride’s tears began in earnest, giving Andrew a twinge of guilt for eavesdropping on the family’s private moment. He and Neville exchanged a glance. “Perhaps we should—”
“Just a moment.” His uncle nodded toward Jackie as she headed to the bride and her mother.
“Oh, dear. Tears on your wedding day won’t do.” If Jackie’s hands flapped any harder, the woman would be in danger of taking flight. “Mrs. Williams, is there something I can do to help?”
The mother shook her head. “I’m afraid not.”
“Tommy’s mama is having trouble letting her only boy go.”
“It didn’t help we turned down her offer to have the wedding in her pasture.”
“And I didn’t want to use those ugly ole glasses she bought for the toasts, so her way of getting back at me is to wear that dress.”
Jackie tapped a finger to her lips. “Don’t worry about a thing. You two head back to the bride’s room, and I’ll have a little talk with your future mother-in-law.”
The bride and her mother paused as if they were as skeptical as Andrew. In the end, they did as Jackie suggested and returned inside. Then she jumped into action, waving down the anti-bride with her red cup. “Yoo-hoo, Mrs. Perdue. I need a moment of your time.”
Andrew held his breath. How could a woman with absolutely no tact defuse a situation already fraught with animosity?
Jackie tottered over, her pencil skirt and high heels inhibiting her walk. As she drew near, she stumbled, and for a moment she almost righted herself. With her next step, her heel caught in the grass and sent her colliding into Mrs. Perdue. Witnesses gasped, only to have their cries drowned by a bellow likened to an angry animal. When Jackie darted out of reach of the angry woman’s flailing arms, the reason for the shouts became as evident as the splash of red down the front of the woman’s white dress.
“Bloody Hell!”
The chorus and refrain of curse and apology lead the way ahead as the two women neared the mansion. “I can’t apologize enough, Mrs. Perdue.” Jackie repeated the mantra as they climbed the stairs to the terrace.
“You certainly can’t.” She shook her finger at Jackie. “Mark my word, I’ll see to it no one in this town uses Greenbrier for so much as a dog show.”
Andrew cringed. Talk about unintended consequences.
“If you’ll allow me to make amends.” Jackie’s hands flapped in earnest. “On a recent trip to Europe, I purchased a beautiful dress perfect for this occasion. I believe you and I are the same size. I’d like to make a gift of it if you’ll allow me.”
Mrs. Perdue eyes widened. “What kind of dress?”
“A coat dress in the perfect shade of robin’s egg blue.” A mischievous grin turned up the corners of Jackie’s mouth. “Alexander McQueen. I bet the bride isn’t wearing couture.”
“She’s not. It’s off the rack.”
“Right this way then. You have just enough time to change before the wedding starts.” Jackie winked at Andrew and Neville as she passed.
Diana chewed her last antacid as Andrew finished retelling how Jackie baptized Greenville’s PTA president with red punch. “Kill me now and bury the body. That’ll save the lawyers the trouble of picking my bones clean.”
“I’m truly sorry. I had no idea this would happen.”
“How could you? Few know the inner workings of Jackie’s mind.” The throbbing in her own head had little to do with the accounting she’d done on Sweet Tea and Lavender’s books. “I have a feeling you’re not telling me everything. What else happened? Did my mother throw cake or open the wedding gifts?”
“Nothing as bad as that. She was just…unorganized.” Andrew stood from the chair across from Diana’s desk and paced the area between her desk and the window overlooking the pool. “During the ceremony the bridesmaids weren’t spaced evenly, and your mum failed to signal the string quartette to play the processional.”
What a goat rope.
If word got out, Greenbrier’s business could be seriously impacted. “In other words, she proved your point.”
“Exactly.”
“Did your uncle notice?”
“Jackie’s antics were rather difficult to miss. As soon as the last guest left, he excused himself to have a private word with her.”
Being right should have come with a little more job satisfaction. “It’s still early enough in the day you might catch a flight back home. I can have someone drive you and the duke to the airport if you like.”
Andrew nodded. “That’s most generous of you considering.”
“It’s not your fault. I should be thanking you. Your planned worked.” With him leaving, telling Andrew the truth cost her nothing. “Under different circumstances, I could see us becoming friends. Aristocratic playboy or not, you’re good people, Andrew Montgomery.” And definitely easy on the eyes. “For the record, I want to apologize again for slugging you at the airport yesterday. But, I’m not sorry you kissed me. It’s been a long time since I’ve played tonsil hockey, and it was quite nice.”
“Right.” He ducked his chin. “I should check on my uncle. I’m sure he’s anxious to depart.”
Diana joined him at her office door. “I’ll follow you downstairs. I’m not sure where my mother will go to lick her wounds, but I imagine she’ll want company.” They walked in silence until they reached the kitchen. “I guess this is goodbye.” She extended her hand. “I would say it was a pleasure meeting you—”
“But that’s not exactly the right sentiment, is it?” His blue eyes sparked. “Shall we say it’s been an adventure?”
“One neither of us will soon forget.”
He leaned in, brushing her cheek with his lips. “Never in a million years.”
Diana’s heart leapt and sputtered as she turned away from Andrew. Why couldn’t they have met on a beach somewhere? Not that she ever took vacation—but still. She would have enjoyed spending a few quiet hours getting to know Viscount Farthingworth a little better.
Nearing the family’s private sitting room, Diana caught her mother’s voice, pitched high with emotion. She slowed, girding her loins for the task ahead. Comforting Jackie in her heartbreak would be a Herculean task. She cracked the door and peeked inside. “Mama, how you doing, sweetheart?”
“I’m fine as frog’s hair.” Jackie bolted from the sofa to drag Diana into the room.
“Hello, my dear.” Neville saluted her with his tea cup. “We’re celebrating your mother’s success. She was brilliant. The bride couldn’t stop gushing, and the troublesome mother-in-law seemed happy enough in the end.”
Jackie cozied up next to the duke. “We’ve also settled on a date for the wedding—one week from today.”