The Bad Luck Wedding Night, Bad Luck Wedding series #5 (Bad Luck Abroad trilogy) (34 page)

So she artfully dodged the question. "I love each of you dearly, but now is not the time. Lest you forget, I have hostess duties downstairs, and you, my friends, are missing a grand party."

Maribeth McBride wrinkled her nose. "You're trying to put us off."

"No, I
am
putting you off. Let's all go downstairs, shall we? Katie, as long as your mother doesn't object, I'll tell your father it's my ball and I want you to dance."

The young woman's face lit, and she bounced to her feet. But a tug on her skirt from Emma McBride had her sitting back down. "Y'all go on," the eldest sister said. "We'll follow in a few minutes. First, Melanie and Aurora are going to give us a bit of background on some of the gentlemen who have expressed interest in us."

"If we avoid the rakes and rogues on our own, that will give Papa and Uncle Tye less to worry about, right?" Maribeth added.

Claire eyed her nieces and said to their mother, "Jenny, your girls are up to something."

"Yes, I know," Jenny said, rising and heading for the door. "I want you to promise me you won't do anything to ruin Charlotte's night. Or your father's."

"We promise," chimed a quintet of voices.

"Does this door have a key?" Claire asked. "It might be safer to lock them in."

"Aunt Claire!" the McBride Menaces protested as Melanie and Aurora blinked in shocked surprise.

Sarah laughed. "They'll behave," she assured the McBride wives. "I trust them. Not because I don't think they're above a bit of mischief even at their age, but because they all love me and they don't want to disappoint me, right, girls?"

"That's right, Sarah."

"Oh, you're good," commented Jenny McBride as she linked her arm with Sarah's and headed for the door. "On second thought, never mind what a fine specimen of manhood your Nick is. You must return to Texas."

"That's right," Claire agreed, following them out into the hall. "Our children need you. Imagine what trouble they might get into without your calming influence. I shudder to think about it."

At that moment, Sarah heard Aurora and Katrina burst into laughter and she caught her breath. The mingled music of British and Texan laughter ripped her heart in two.

* * *

"We have a plan to make Lady Steele shake in her shoes," Aurora told her new American friends.

"The three of you are our inspiration," Melanie added. "Sarah has entertained us with tales of your more imaginative antics."

Emma winced. "We've been living down our behavior at Papa and Mama's wedding for years. You must understand. We thought she was marrying someone else when we set all those animals loose in the church."

Katie grinned. "It's our little brothers' favorite bedtime story."

Maribeth shook her head. "Please tell me your plan for this evil woman doesn't include animals. I don't think our papa would ever forgive us."

"No, no animals. This plot actually combines a trick our Aunt Gillian played on our Uncle Jake and the one you three played on someone named Willfema."

Katrina pursed her lips. "Willfema?"

"Wilhemina," Maribeth deduced. "Mrs. Wilhemina Peters. The newspaper columnist."

"Oh, the music box story," Maribeth said. The three McBride Menaces smiled in fond memory.

"That's the one. We overheard Sarah telling our brother about it, and when we decided something must be done to convince Lady Steele to leave our brother alone, it seemed the perfect solution—with a little tweak from Gillian's ghost-playing days."

Melanie gave the McBrides the details of the evening's scheme, including a quick summary of Aunt Gillian's romance with their Uncle Jake and her pretense at haunting Rowanclere Castle. "She rigged an almost invisible thread to a breadbasket, and when Jake reached for a roll, she tugged it out of reach. We're using the same concept with Lady Steele. It's an innocent prank, one that Sarah or even Charlotte would laugh off if we pulled on her tonight. Lady Steele will hate it."

"And you think she'll hate it so much that you'll scare her away?"

"No. We think she'll hate it—and us—so much that she'll decide Nicholas isn't worth fighting for any longer. We suspect he has tried to end things with her—we hope so, anyway—but the woman sticks like a burr. We're hoping this event will be enough to make her realize Nicholas will never forsake his sisters and show her how much she'd hate dealing with us for years to come. If our plan works, she'll turn her attention to some other gentleman this very night. You wait and see."

Emma McBride frowned. "I don't know. Though your plot sounds inspired, it does strike me as a bit childish. Are you certain you wish to take this approach?"

"We've tried being mature, but the woman won't take our hints. She is fiendish. You should have seen how catty she was to Gillian the day they were introduced. I can't help but think she is part of the reason Nicholas and Sarah act less than comfortable around each other these days. We may have begun our campaign against Lady Steele because we didn't want Nicholas to marry her, but now we're doing it for Sarah. We love Sarah and we think she's perfect for our brother. We cannot allow Lady Steele to ruin things. This is war."

"I love the idea," said Katrina McBride. "You have my full support. How can I help?"

The five young ladies spent the next ten minutes revising their scheme to include the assistance of their new American friends. When they finally made their way downstairs, they were united in their purpose.

Sarah had promised the
ton
a wedding they wouldn't soon forget. The newly self-christened Ross Rascals, united with the force of the McBride Menaces, were ready to make the prewedding festivities a fitting prelude.

* * *

Sarah had expected the curious whispers and murmurs of the guests that flowed around her as the ball went along. She'd even anticipated the undercurrent of tension that had swept through the ballroom with the arrival of Lady Steele. What had caught her by surprise, however, was how much she was enjoying her role as hostess of Lady Charlotte's ball. As a wedding planner, she'd been a part of many balls and parties over the years, but never before had she been so personally involved. It made the evening special.

She was honestly having a lovely time. She'd said as much to the Susan Sheldon as they waited for her happily attentive Tom to bring them a cup of punch. She'd repeated the sentiment to Lord Kimball during a dance right before the Queen's business called the spymaster away. All in all, she thoroughly enjoyed the first half of the evening.

Now, however, she had to survive supper.

Having circulated discreetly to assist the appropriate pairing off of guests for the supper dance, Sarah paused for a quick exchange with Nick in advance of the promenade into dinner. She felt as if a million butterflies had taken up residence in her stomach.

Until now the evening had gone as smooth as the promised silk Nick had finally delivered to her early last week, but this was the stickiest part of the evening, because of the attention paid to the order of precedence. Woe be to Sarah as a hostess if she mixed up a pair of dukes, giving honors to the peer of lesser rank.

On top of that concern, she'd begun to worry excessively about her menu. So much depended on how supper was received. What if these Britons didn't appreciate the subtlety of carrying her good luck theme to the supper table? With that worry momentarily uppermost in her mind, Sarah leaned toward her husband and murmured, "Do you think I went too far with the cornbread and black-eyed peas?"

The twinkle in his blue eyes made a lie of his serious frown. "Hmm... as long as you have sufficient quantities of more sophisticated foods like the lobster bisque and those little four-leaf clover meringues, then I wouldn't expect a problem. Unless the guests don't care for the shade of green you used."

"Nick, don't tease me about this!"

He chuckled. "Actually, I think it's a nice touch, especially since you incorporated an explanation of all the good luck traditions in the menu cards."

She beamed up at him as her stomach settled. "You're a good man, Nick Ross."

He flashed her a hot, heated look the likes of which she'd not seen from him since the night they shared milk and honesty in his bedchamber. "I am hoping you'll remember that."

Now the butterflies returned, but for a different reason entirely. Offering up a nervous smile, she said, "I think it's time we found our partners."

With that, Sarah made a graceful retreat in search of the Duke of Rollingsworth, the highest ranking gentleman at the ball and the hostess's traditional dinner partner. Exactly how she ended up approaching the table on the arm of Lord Endicott was something she couldn't quite fathom.

Even worse was the fact that her husband appeared to be escorting Sarah's nemesis, Lady Steele, to the table next to hers.

Her butterflies transformed to bitter pills of lead as she allowed Lord Endicott to seat her.

"Lady Weston," the gentleman said. "Allow me to compliment you on the ball. I suspect hostesses of upcoming events are gnashing their teeth in concern at this moment. You've set a standard that will be impossible to meet."

Sarah barely heard him, since she was busy biting her lower lip and scanning the room for the duke. Nobody was seated with their supper dance partners. What had happened here? "Lord Endicott, may I ask you a question?"

"Please, feel free."

"I hope you won't take this the wrong way, but as a fellow Texan of sorts, I feel that I can ask. I made every effort to follow the guidelines of proper etiquette with seating at this meal. How is it you are at my right rather than Lord Rollingsworth?"

Endicott flashed a bashful smile. "His Grace and I were at Eton together. I begged the boon, and though he protested, in the name of friendship he graciously conceded his spot and we switched place cards."

Place cards? Sarah hadn't used place cards at the tables. Where had these come from? She glanced at the other cards on her table and spied Tye McBride's name along with two of his daughters', and struggled to keep the frown from her face. That might explain Endicott's presence at her side, but not exactly why Nick was feeding the flames of gossip on Charlotte's night by escorting his paramour to the supper table rather than the Duchess of Rollingsworth! Her suspicions were tempered, however, by the fact that his too-innocent sisters Aurora and Melanie took seats at the same table as their brother. Noting the glint in their eyes, Sarah suspected whatever mischief the girls had planned was about to transpire.

For a moment, she considered trying to stop it. But then Lady Steele batted her lashes up at Nick, and Sarah wanted to pitch the contents of her water glass in the flirt's face.

"No, I'll mind my own business," she said beneath her breath. Whatever the jest, Charlotte obviously had agreed to it, and since this was her special night, that was all the approval Sarah needed. Besides, after meeting Lady Steele, Sarah found herself supportive of whatever plan the girls had in store for the waspish woman.

Endicott asked what foods she'd like him to bring her from the buffet. "You choose, please," she absently replied, her entire attention focused on the tableau at the other table.

At least Nick didn't appear happy. Sarah took some comfort in that, and as she watched him pull the chair out for Lady Steele, a sense of anticipation filled her. That woman had made a mistake in the way she treated Nick's sisters. Sarah knew in her bones that somehow, someway, the Ladies Ross were fixing to make her pay.

Lady Steele took her seat. Immediately, the tinkling notes of "God Save the Queen" drifted up from beneath her bustle. The Englishwoman stiffened and frowned in confusion while in Sarah's mind the American version of the song began to echo.
"My country 'tis of thee..."

Lady Steele hopped from her chair like a frog, and abruptly the music stopped.

She sat back down.

Music played.

"Sweet land of liberty..."

Aurora and Melanie gasped loudly as Lady Steele vaulted from her chair. Ten tables away, Charlotte helped focus further attention by calling out, "What is that noise?"

Pink brushed Lady Steele's patrician cheeks. Her lips fluttered with a hesitant smile, then cautiously she sat down again.

Music tinkled.

"Of thee I sing."

Lady Steele jumped to her feet.

Every eye in the supper room turned toward her in fascinated interest. Gentlemen at the table next to her burst out in guffaws, quickly muffled. Astonishment colored half the faces; amusement, the rest. A combination of anger and embarrassment flashed across the Ice Queen's pale features, and icicles dripped from her voice as she demanded, "Footman, bring me another chair!"

Sarah sat back in her chair, cattily entertained as servants scurried to do Lady Steele's bidding. She rejected the first chair they brought her and demanded a second. Lifting her nose into the air, she regally took her seat.

Music saluted her again.

"Land, where my fathers died..."

"Aawk!" she squawked, bounding up. She stood frozen, staring in fury at her chair.

Laughter bubbled, then swelled through the room like a wave racing toward shore. Seated at Lady Steele's right, Nick pursed his lips in an obvious and valiant attempt not to laugh. He managed to hold out until Aurora spoke in a girlishly excited voice, "Goodness, Lady Steele. Your dress is playing 'God Save the Queen.' You have a jubilee bustle."