She did invite a number of close friends and coworkers—including Alexis. Beguile’s executive editor had admitted the Paris thing was a mistake of epic proportions, but swore she’d never intended to publish a single photo without Sarah’s permission. As a peace offering/wedding present, she’d had the photos printed and inserted into a beautifully inscribed, gilt-edged scrapbook. Just to be safe, Sarah had also had her hand over the disk with the complete set of JPEGs.
Dev’s guest list was considerably longer than his bride’s. His parents, sisters, their spouses and various offspring had flown to New York four days before the wedding. Dev had arranged a whirlwind trip to New Mexico so Sarah could meet most of them. She’d gotten to know them better while playing Big Apple tour guide. She’d also gained more insight into her complex, fascinating, handsome fiancé as more of his friends and associates arrived, some from his Air Force days, some from the years afterward.
Elise and Jean-Jacques Girault had flown in from Paris the afternoon before the wedding, just in time for dinner at the Avery. Sarah wasn’t surprised that Elise and Alexis formed an instant bond, but the sight of Madame Girault snuggled against one of Dev’s friends during predinner cocktails made her a tad nervous.
“Uh-oh,” she murmured to Dev. “Do you think she’s trying to seduce him?”
“Probably.”
She searched the crowded restaurant, spotted Monsieur Girault happily chatting with Gina and relaxed.
* * *
Her wedding day dawned sunny and bright. Gina once again assumed charge. She’d accepted Dev’s offer of payment without a qualm and arranged a full day at a spa for the women in the wedding party. She, Sarah, the duchess, Maria, Dev’s mother and sisters and the two little nieces who would serve as flower girls all got the works. The adults indulged in massages, facials, manicures, pedicures and hair treatments. The giggling little girls had their hair done and their fingernails and toenails painted pale lavender.
Sarah had enjoyed every moment of it, but especially treasured the half hour lying next to her sister on side-by-side massage tables while their facial masks cleaned and tightened their pores. According to the attendant, the masks were made of New Zealand Manuka honey, lavender oils and shea butter, with the additive of bee venom, which reputedly gave Kate Middleton her glowing complexion.
“At fifty-five thousand dollars per bottle, the venom better produce results,” Gina muttered.
Only the fact that their masks contained a single drop of venom each, thus reducing the treatment price to just a little over a hundred dollars, kept Sarah from having a heart attack. Reaching across the space between the tables, she took Gina’s hand.
“Thanks for doing all this.”
“You’re welcome.” Her sister’s mouth turned up in one of her irrepressible grins. “It’s easy to throw great parties when you’re spending someone else’s money.”
“You’re good at it.”
“Yes,” she said smugly, “I am.”
Her grin slowly faded and her fingers tightened around Sarah’s.
“It’s one of the few things I am good at. I’m going to get serious about it, Sarah. I intend to learn everything I can about the event-planning business before the baby’s born. That way, I can support us both.”
“What about Jack Mason? How does he figure in this plan?”
“He doesn’t.”
“It’s his child, too, Gina.”
“He’ll have as much involvement in the baby’s life as he wants,” she said stubbornly, “but not mine. It’s time—past time—I took responsibility for myself.”
Sarah couldn’t argue with that, but she had to suppress a few doubts as she squeezed Gina’s hand. “You know I’ll help you any way I can. Dev, too.”
“I know, but I’ve got to do this on my own. And you’re going to have your hands full figuring how to meld your life with his. Have you decided yet where you’re going to live?”
“In L.A., if we can convince Grandmama to move out there with us. Maria, too.”
“They’ll hate leaving New York.”
“I know.”
Sarah’s joy in her special day dimmed. She’d had several conversations with the duchess about a possible move. None of them had ended satisfactorily. As an alternative, Dev had offered to temporarily move his base of operations to New York and commute to L.A.
“I just can’t bear to think of Grandmama alone in that huge apartment.”
“Well...” Gina hesitated, indecision written all over her face. “I know I just made a big speech about standing on my own two feet, but I hate the thought of her being alone, too. I could...I could move in with her until I land a job. Or maybe until the baby’s born. If she’ll have me, that is, which isn’t a sure thing after the scathing lecture she delivered when I got back from Switzerland.”
“Oh, Gina, she’ll have you! You know she will. She loves you.” Sarah’s eyes misted. “Almost as much as I do.”
“Stop,” Gina pleaded, her own tears spouting. “You can’t walk down the aisle with your eyes all swollen and red. Dev’ll strangle me.”
* * *
As Dev took his place under the arch of gauzy netting lit by a thousand tiny, sparkling lights, strangling his soon-to-be sister-in-law was the furthest thing from his mind. He was as surprised as Sarah and the duchess at the way Gina had pulled everything together. So when the maid of honor followed two giggling flower girls down the aisle, he gave Gina a warm smile.
She returned it, but Dev could tell the sight of the unexpected, uninvited guest at the back of the room had shaken her. Mason stood with his arms folded and an expression on his face that suggested he didn’t intend to return to Washington until he’d sorted some things out with the mother of his child.
Then the music swelled and Dev’s gaze locked on the two women coming down the aisle arm in arm. Sarah matched her step to that of the duchess, who’d stated bluntly she did not require a cane to walk a few yards and give her granddaughter away. Spine straight, chin high, eyes glowing with pride, she did just that.
“I hope you understand what a gift I’m giving you, Devon.”
“Yes, ma’am, I do.”
With a small harrumph, the duchess kissed her granddaughter’s cheek and took her seat. Then Sarah turned to Dev, and he felt himself fall into her smile. She was so luminous, so elegant. So gut-wrenchingly beautiful.
He still couldn’t claim to know anything about haute couture, but she’d told him she would be wearing a Dior gown her grandmother had bought in Paris in the ’60s. The body-clinging sheath of cream-colored satin gave Dev a whole new appreciation of what Sarah termed vintage. The neckline fell in a soft drape and was caught at each shoulder by a clasp adorned with soft, floating feathers. The same downy feathers circled her tiny pillbox cap with its short veil.
Taking the hand she held out to him, he tucked it close to his heart and grinned down at her.
“Are you ready for phase three, Lady Sarah?”
“I am,” she laughed. “So very, very ready.”
I must admit I approve of Sarah’s choice of husband. I should, since I decided Devon Hunter was right for her even before he blackmailed her into posing as his fiancée. How absurd that they still