The Bride (The Wedding Series) - By Christine Dorsey Page 0,16

later, in the shack, he did such marvelous things to her with his hands and mouth. Eleanor nearly swooned thinking of it. She nestled her cheek against the pillow, a smile on her lips and fell asleep.

~ ~ ~

She wanted to see him. Eleanor was fairly bursting from her skin with the need to be with John Bonner. To hear his voice. To touch his whisker-roughened cheek. To see his grin.

“Would you sit still, Eleanor.” Matilda straightened her hat and stared out the victoria’s window at the procession of polished black carriages traveling along the horseshoe shaped circuit along Bellevue Avenue.

“I don’t know why I had to come calling with you this afternoon, Mother.” Eleanor let out her breath in exasperation.

“I told you. Your escapade is the talk of Newport and we have to show everyone that you are all right.” Matilda settled back against the velvet upholstery. “There’s Minny Simpson, sending her card into the Van Mullins’. Doesn’t she realize they aren’t going to receive her?”

The Van Mullins received Eleanor and her mother, of course. While they would normally have had their footman simply deliver their card to Mrs. Van Mullin’s footman, today Matilda marched Eleanor up to the door.

The drawing room was decorated in French Gothic, with huge crystal chandeliers hanging from the frescoed ceiling. Eleanor sat on a coral silk chair and listened as Mrs. Van Mullin went on and on about her rescue at sea.

“I just can’t believe how gallantly you were plucked from the arms of death,” she remarked, spreading her own arms out in a melodramatic parody of her words. She wore a collar that nearly touched her chin and Eleanor wondered how she could swallow, wrapped up as she was.

Of course, Eleanor was none too comfortable herself. Her mother had chosen the gown, a dark burgundy with ruffles and bows and enough padding to make her feel she might topple over backwards when she walked. Her eyes strayed to the ceiling high windows and she looked longingly out over the manicured lawn to the sea below. If she could only escape for a bit to walk along the rocky shore, perhaps John would be waiting for her.

Eleanor didn’t realize how much her mind had wondered until her mother reached over and gave her a pinch. “Mrs. Van Mullin asked you a question, dear.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Eleanor felt color creep up to her cheeks.

“It’s to be expected Eleanor, after what you’ve been through. I’m just so thankful Sir Alfred was there to rescue you.”

“Sir Alfred?” Eleanor blinked, “It wasn’t Sir—”

“Of course, he wasn’t alone,” Matilda interrupted. “My dear Franklin searched frantically for our Eleanor, too.”

“But—”

“Now we mustn’t bore Mrs. Van Mullin with all the details, Eleanor. I’m sure she has calls to make and goodness knows we do.”

Matilda managed to hustle them out of the house smoothly and it wasn’t until mother and daughter were settled in the carriage that Eleanor asked, “What were you saying in there? You know very well it was John Bonner who rescued me.”

Matilda took a deep breath, sucking her cheeks in as she did. “It really isn’t important that everyone know all the details.”

“Leaving out a few details is different from lying, Mother.”

“That will be enough, Eleanor. I have heard entirely too much about this John Bonner. Entirely too much.”

The rest of their ride was accomplished in silence. Matilda left her card at a half-dozen mansions, then headed home to see who had called on her while she was away. Such a silly routine, Eleanor thought. Sometimes the good ladies of Newport society dressed themselves, spent the afternoon on “visits” and never saw anyone.

But at least this visiting time was over and Eleanor decided she would not go with her mother tomorrow. Somehow she would get word to John Bonner to meet her. Perhaps down past the orchard where they—

“Are you listening to me, Eleanor?”

“What? Oh, yes. You said to wear the purple Worth gown... didn’t you?”

“I said that Sir Alfred is joining us this evening and that you are to take special care with your toilette.”

“Yes, Mother.”

“And Eleanor do try to think of something clever to say to Sir Alfred tonight.”

As it turned out, Eleanor had no trouble with what to say to Sir Alfred. “I’m sorry, but I can’t.” They were walking along the porch, enjoying the sea breeze. And Sir Alfred had just asked her to marry him.

He stopped, and in the light shining through the French doors, Eleanor could see the astonished expression on