The Bride (The Wedding Series) - By Christine Dorsey Page 0,24

already agreed to come, and no one else will dare not show their faces. I only wish your father had the decency to be here.” She continued pacing the area between the door and window, making plans. “You, of course, shall have to be above reproach in your dealing with everyone, especially Sir Alfred. I’m certain your silly rejection of his proposal caused him to say what he did.”

“Sir Alfred started the rumor?” Eleanor was incensed.

Matilda made a tsking sound with her tongue. “Simply wounded male pride which you must do your best to assuage, Eleanor.”

Her mother stormed out of the room before Eleanor could tell her she had no intention of assuaging Sir Alfred or anyone else. Her first reaction was to refuse to go to the stupid picnic. But after thinking it over she decided she would go. And as far as Sir Alfred was concerned... well, she would tell him exactly what she thought of him. What could her parents do but banish her from their house. Perhaps she’d be sent abroad.

Not that it mattered. She felt as if her life was over. And all because of John Bonner. Of his betrayal. She loved him. Thought of him constantly. But he obviously didn’t care a whit for her. He hadn’t so much as tried to see her since the day she confronted him.

Alice Maitland was the first to approach her. The petite beauty’s smile was smug. “Dear Eleanor,” she said, her fan fluttering. “How are you?”

“Very well, Alice. And you?”

“I’m fine, naturally, but I’m so concerned about you. Your dip in the ocean... and everything.”

“Well, as you can see, I—”

“You do look different. Your gown is, well, it’s lovely.”

“Thank you. I had it made while in Europe.” It was one of the few her mother hadn’t controlled and Matilda hated it. But Eleanor loved the simple lines and soft color. “If you’ll excuse me, I must have a word with Sir Alfred.”

Eleanor had seen him enter the grounds and wanted to have her say before her nerve deserted her. But while she was moving through the chatting throng there was a commotion on the lower loggia. Eleanor looked up to see John Bonner pushing his way past Mr. Bledsoe the butler.

“John.” Eleanor tried to move toward him, but by now everyone else had also noticed the trouble and they surged forward as well. But she could still see him and watched in astonishment as he broke free of the servant and strode toward Sir Alfred. Those around the British peer melted back like a receding wave and by the expression on John Bonner’s face, Eleanor couldn’t blame them.

She was too far away to hear what was said, but it was obvious, the two men were arguing. When Sir Alfred took a swing at John the cream of Newport society gasped. That punch missed, but John’s didn’t. Eleanor couldn’t help smiling when Sir Alfred landed flat on his back on the carpet of perfectly manicured grass.

But apparently there were those who did not approve of John’s behavior. Out of the corner of her eye, Eleanor spotted her mother leading a dozen servants across the yard. Several of the men worked in the garden and were burly fellows.

Eleanor called out to warn John, but she didn’t think he heard her. Then she lost sight of him. But moments later he reappeared. And he was coming straight toward her. As before, the crowd opened for him, until he was standing right in front of her.

His dark hair was mussed and his cravat crooked. Eleanor also noticed several of his knuckles were skinned and bleeding. But mostly she noticed his eyes, dark and intense, staring into hers.

The other guests seemed to disappear and it was only she and John standing there rooted to the spot. And then the sound of her mother’s voice screeched through the silence. John and Eleanor looked around at the same time.

“You have to go,” Eleanor urged, placing her hand on his sleeve. She noticed now that several of the men in her mother’s makeshift army had clubs. John must have seen it, too, but he held his ground.

“Ellie, I...”

“John!” Eleanor gave him a shove.

“I’m not leaving till I have my say.” Ignoring the group hurrying toward him from the left, John faced Eleanor. “I love you.” He grabbed her hands. “I didn’t intend to and I don’t know when or how it happened, but it did. I love you more than life itself, Ellie.” He squeezed