At this, Eugenia smiled. And for the first time since Nigel had known her, she almost looked pretty. “No,” she said. “I’m taking Sutton with me.” With that, she cupped a hand around her mouth and called out, “Yoohoo! Sutton!”
Her maid appeared, a silent apparition in the nave doorway.
“Are our bags all packed?”
Sutton inclined her head.
“Loaded in the limo?”
Another nod.
“Well, in that case . . .”
And Miss Eugenia gathered up her bountiful skirts, bundling them to the knee, and burst into a run. All the guests not already on their feet surged upright. Tom Doorhandler and the duke, in their haste to pursue the object of their affections, crashed into one another, tripped, and fell in a tangle of limbs. Nigel caught a last glimpse of Sutton, following her mistress out from the chapel. Was that a smile creasing her stern visage?
The nave doors slammed. This seemed to be taken as some sort of cue by the ancient organist, who applied her withered hands to the keys with gusto, blaring out the traditional, “There Goes the Bride,” which the choir boys immediately took up in four-part harmony, accompanied by some less-than-traditional but enthusiasticwhoops.Mrs. Lambert screamed. Miss Tuttlemouse fainted conveniently into the arms of the nearest groomsman, and . . .
Nigel turned to Luna, catching her disappointed expression. “No duel,” he said.
“No.” She blustered a sigh between her lips. “Another dream thwarted.” But her eyes twinkled with delight. “Do you think it’ll work? Do you think she’ll make a clean getaway?”
“I don’t know.” Nigel slipped his hands into his pockets. “What did her teacup tell you?”
Luna grinned. “That she’s about to embark on a tremendous adventure!”
It was slower going back to the hotel without the added benefit of being able to cross throughunspace.Traffic was congested for a Sunday afternoon, and Nigel found he rather missed the quiet of the slip of reality on the outside of time. Luna, however, was much more at ease. And that was worth any other little inconveniences.
She sat beside him, a handful of violets cupped in her palms. “You wretched little troublemakers,” she crooned over them. “But how can I be mad at you? If it weren’t for you, where would Miss Eugenia be now?”
“Married, most likely,” Nigel muttered as the vanput-puttedacross a busy intersection.
“And miserable!” Luna buried her nose in the violets, who all rubbed their velvety soft petals against her cheeks affectionately. “She owes you a great deal, you little blighters, though she’ll never know it!”
Nigel forced himself to concentrate on the road ahead rather than on the sensation of gnawing jealousy in his gut. What had he come to that he was jealous of flowers? A ridiculous notion,though . . . if he was honest, he would give a great deal to have Luna nuzzlehimlike that.
He bit down on the inside of his cheek.
They had agreed, while walking back to the van, to head directly to the reception in advance of the guests and try to reclaim the other violets. As they couldn’t guess how many people would take Miss Eugenia’s invitation at face value, they would have to be quick indeed. “Do you think Mrs. Lambert will still give us a good review in theBally Daily?”Luna asked as they made a turn onto Coronet Street, and The King’s Crown Hotel came into view.
“As long as she never suspects the shop girl of having unduly influenced Miss Eugenia’s choices, I suppose there’s a chance,” Nigel answered dryly. He put on his blinker and took the turn to the back of the building and into the parking garage. Nodding to the parking lot attendant, he pulled into the vendor parking space.
He had scarcely cut the engine before Luna, having deposited the violets back into the cupholder, unfastened her seatbelt and began climbing from the van. “You needn’t come with me, Mr. Grimm,” she said, tossing the words over her shoulder. “I’ll just nab the violets and be out again in two ticks.”
“No, no,” Nigel protested, hurriedly unfastening his own belt. “I’ll accompany you. Just in case that head waiter tries to give you a hard time.”
“What will you do to him if he does?” Luna asked a bit suspiciously. “I won’t give you permission to transmorph him into a polliwog, you know.”
“Nonsense.” Locking the van, Nigel turned to face her and drew himself up with great dignity. “I think I’ve proven myself quite adept at the art of distraction today. Tom Doorhandler was put off the scent, was he not?”
Luna’s mouth twisted in an effort to suppress a giggle, which nonetheless burst forth. “You were rather brilliant, actually,” she admitted. “Poor Tom didn’t know what hit him!”
A pleasant flush warmed Nigel’s cheeks. He looked down at his shoes, uncertain how to take the compliment. But Luna was already hastening for the stairwell. “All right, Mr. Grimm!” she called back. “You may serve a role in this reclamation effort if you wish. But let’s hurry, before the wedding hordes descend!”
The climb back up to the sixth floor banquet hall was a bit longer than Nigel remembered. They were silent as they made each tedious turn. Not that he minded. Any time spent in Luna’s company was golden as far as he was concerned. Perhaps, after the events of today, they would be able to resume something of their old, easy dynamic? As long as he didn’t do anything stupid to mess it up between then and now.
“Do you think,” Luna said suddenly as they took the turn to the fourth floor, “there’s any chance Miss Eugenia will end up living Happily Ever After?”
Nigel cast her a sideways glance, tossing back a lock of hair from his forehead as he did so. “I’m not sure I’m familiar with the phrase.”
