Wedding Escape

Chapter One England Late Summer 1883 If there was a hell, then surely he was in it. "Do sit still, Jack," whispered Annabelle, nudging him hard in the ribs. Jack regarded his sister sullenly, struggling to reposition his enormous frame within the confines of the ancient pew. "We've been trapped in this godforsaken mausoleum for over an hour and the bloody wedding hasn't even started yet. The stench from these flowers is choking me, I'm ready to strangle the choir, and I've lost all feeling in my backside." "That old man over there looks like he's dead." His brother Simon frowned. Charlotte gave her siblings a mildly reproachful look. "I think the flowers are lovely," she countered softly. "Genevieve said the bride's mother, Mrs. John Henry Belford, designed the arrangements herself, stripping bare nearly every conservatory in England in the process. It must have cost a fortune." "Roses and orange leaves were a good choice for the Gothic arches." Her sister Grace studied the four extraordinary floral arches that soared over the aisle, creating a magnificent canopy of blossoms beneath which the bride was to make her much-anticipated appearance. "And the fence of lily of the valley and mums at the altar rail is stunning." "Jamie, go over to that old man and make certain he has a pulse," said Simon, still concerned for the elderly gentleman a few rows across who sat frozen with his eyes closed. "He may need a doctor." "He's just asleep," his brother assured him. "I saw him scratch himself." "Lucky bastard," muttered Jack. "Jack!" Annabelle regarded him with exasperation, while Charlotte and Grace giggled beneath the brims of their enormous hats. "Perhaps you should step outside for a moment and stretch your legs, Jack." Haydon Kent, Marquess of Redmond, regarded his son from the next pew with equal measures of empathy and amusement. At sixty-one he had learned to endure the tedious social ordeals that his status demanded of him, but Jack could see he would have dearly loved to escape the suffocating church as well. "Given the funereal pace with which things have progressed, I'm sure you've got a few minutes before we get started here." "Just make certain you return before the bridal party begins to walk down the aisle," added Genevieve. His mother smiled fondly at him. "No bride wants a wayward guest stumbling over her train as she enters the church." The colossal organ above blasted the cavernous space once again as the sixty-member choir wearily rose. "I'll just be outside." Not waiting for the protest that was sure to come from Annabelle, Jack escaped down the aisle, ignoring the disapproving glances of the women in the church and the mournfully envious stares of the men sweating profusely beside them. The overwhelming stench of the thousands of blossoms within had seeped beyond the church doors and saturated the hot summer air outside, forcing Jack to seek refuge at the side of the ancient stone building. He loosened his necktie and inhaled a deep breath, ridding his lungs of the cloying sweetness. What madness had possessed him to let his family persuade him to attend this ridiculous wedding? he wondered irritably. He scarcely knew the Duke of Whitcliffe, and he had never met Amelia Belford, the fabulously wealthy American heiress the aging duke had finally deigned to make his wife. If not for the fact that Jack was so anxious to see his family after having been away at sea for three months, he would never have agreed to endure what was turning out to be the most excruciating social torture of his thirty-six years. The lavishness with which the church had been decorated did not bode well for the festivities to cMonk, Karyn is the author of 'Wedding Escape', published 2003 under ISBN 9780553584400 and ISBN 0553584405.