“Because we were talking about incompatibility. How Edward and I are made for each other,” Susan prompted.
Mary’s smile was faint. “Yes, darling. But no matter how far apart your father and I were in everything else, the sex was absolutely amazing.”
“Too much information!” Susan said, covering her ears. “I don’t want to envision my mother having sex, thank you very much.”
“I didn’t find you under a cabbage leaf, you know.”
“You might as well have, since I had no father,” she said frankly. Mary didn’t even flinch. “Is that why you married him? Because the sex was good?” She wasn’t sure she wanted to hear the answer.
“No, darling. I married him because I loved him, irrational as it was. And that’s why the sex was good.”
“Then I should have no problem,” Susan said blithely.
“Because you love Edward.” There was just the faint trace of a question in Mary’s gentle voice.
“Of course. I’m marrying him, aren’t I?”
“I thought it was more a practical than an emotional decision.”
“Marriage should always be a practical decision,” Susan said firmly. “It’s too important an issue to let your emotions or your heart get in the way.”
For a moment Mary looked stricken. “And you wouldn’t want your heart to get in the way, would you, sweetheart?” she said softly.
She recognized the troubled tone in her mother’s voice. “I love Edward,” Susan repeated firmly. “Trust me.”
“Always, darling. What are you going to wear to the Andersons’ party tonight? They’ve invited just about everyone, I’m afraid, even though I told them that this week was hectic enough already.”
“We’ll survive. At least I’ll have some time with Edward.” She said it almost defiantly. She loved Edward, truly. If it wasn’t the mad, passionate desire of a teenager, well, they were both too mature for that She loved him in a calm, rational manner, secure in everything the future held for the two of them. She rose, heading toward her mother, and put a hand on her shoulder. “Trust me, mother. I know what I’m doing.”
Mary smiled up at her, but there was no missing the real doubt in her warm blue eyes. “Of course, dear.”
Her mother was right: the Andersons’ sprawling Tudor mansion was crammed with people. Susan had been trained by her mother in the fine art of social intercourse, and she survived a good three hours of chitchat, shrimp hors d’oeuvres, distant glimpses of Edward, and enough French champagne to fell a lesser woman. She’d learned how to sip, making one glass linger, she’d learned how to smile and look as if every word was utterly fascinating.
For some reason tonight it all felt particularly hollow.
She must have been overtired, she decided, making an automatically sympathetic response to Taylor Anderson’s gastrointestinal woes. She’d been brought up for this sort of thing, she was good at it. Across the crowded room she could see Edward thriving, charming everyone who came within his orbit, and he was counting on her doing the same thing. For some reason she wasn’t quite sure why she should.
It was a warm summer night in June. No one noticed when she slipped out onto the terrace, closing the French doors behind her. She took a deep breath of the damp night air, then looked down to discover her hands were shaking. Bridal jitters, she thought, dismissing it She made no effort to go back into the crowded living room. No one had even noticed she’d disappeared, which was a blessing. This was the first time in days when she’d been alone, it seemed. At peace.
Until he stepped out of the shadows. “Running away?” Jake Wyczynski murmured.
He didn’t come any closer, for which she could only be thankful, though she wasn’t quite sure why.
He was marginally dressed up, in dark pants and an open-necked white shirt, but there, was no missing the air of the wild, the exotic, that clung to him like the night breeze.
“Getting a breath of air,” she said lightly. “I didn’t realize you were here.”
“I’ve been hiding out. This isn’t my kind of thing, I’m afraid.”
She turned and leaned against the stone balustrade, looking up at him. “Then why are you here?”
“I promised your godmother I’d give her a full report If that means having to suffer through cocktail parties then so be it.” He looked as if he’d rather be wrestling crocodiles than standing on the terrace of the Andersons’ elegant house.
“Hey, don’t hang around on my account. I absolve you of any obligation,” she said coolly.
“The obligation isn’t to you, sweetheart. It’s to Louisa. I promised I’d witness your wedding and all the garbage leading up to it and I won’t go back on my promise even if it kills me.”
“It’s not going to,” she said. “Though I might be tempted. TU tell you what I can always free you. The invitation is rescinded. You aren’t invited. You can return to the wilds with a clear conscience.”
