Raphael was a good man. He was trying to keep Pru’s wedding from becoming a gossipmonger’s dream come true. The elder Boudreaux sniffed a couple of times, refusing to look at Raphael. He walked away without another word.
Raphael sat down and took her hand in his. He sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly. A smile surfaced soon after. He winked at her and asked, “Now, where were we before we were rudely interrupted?”
“We were deciding whether to get married today. But—”
“But?” He looked wounded.
“But I’m not going to let my mother bully us into it. We can get married today or wait to do it in our own good time.”
Raphael smiled. “You are absolutely right. We can do whatever we want.”
“Indeed. Because something else occurred to me just now.”
“What’s that?”
“If we get married today, I’m certain the news will get out like rocket-fueled missiles all through the galaxy.”
He shrugged. “I don’t care.”
“Won’t that ruin the rest of our trip? I don’t know where we’re going, but I know we’re supposed to be looking for wedding, reception and honeymoon destinations. Right?”
His eyes widened with realization. “You’re right. I can’t believe I forgot about that.” He looked around the room. Most of the seats had filled up and the bridal party was moving from the receiving line to the designated table at the front of the room.
Lucy and Axel walked by on their way to the family table, stopping to hug and congratulate Francine and Raphael.
Once they were alone again, Francine told Raphael her plan. “We’ll wait until after Pru and her husband are safely away before letting my mother know we’ve decided to go ahead with our small private affair and not bother her with a wedding tonight. If she puts up a fuss, I’ll tell her she won’t be invited. That should keep her from acting out or making a scene. Trust me, her ultimate goal is a link with the Boudreaux royal name. I don’t believe she’ll risk that in order to press us if we turn her down.”
“Okay.” Raphael kissed her hand. “Good plan.”
The other two couples at their table were strangers to both of them, but clearly knew each other. They chatted and made light, harmless conversation throughout the meal without making Francine or Raphael uncomfortable. It was a needed respite after moving through the receiving line, fraught with tension and gossip, to get in here.
Francine was relieved not to have to fight off any further drama or fake a smile throughout a horrid, long wedding luncheon with mean people.
Applause sent Pru and her husband off on their honeymoon trip as small birds with black and purple feathers, representing the color of the Ichor-Delta mountains, were released to fly over an old-fashioned crystal carriage pulled by four Ichor-Delta beasts called brays.
The equine-like creatures were smaller, shorter and stockier than horses and they had thick, dark fur like an Earther bear. The fur had been trimmed into elaborate designs highlighted with glittery powder. One side featured the groom’s family crest, the other, the bride’s family crest. After the wedding celebration, the brays would be shaved so their fur could grow long enough in about a month to be trimmed for the next wedding.
Raphael explained the Ichor-Delta custom to Francine as they followed the crowd outdoors to see the newly married couple off on their journey together.
Francine took Raphael’s hand as they made their way slowly back to the reception hall. Her mother had told all the guests right before exiting the room to be sure to return promptly for a surprise. Except her mother was about to be the one surprised.
Right before they entered, Raphael pulled her back and said, “Want to make a run for it? I don’t think they’ll be able to catch us.”
Francine laughed, put a forefinger up to her mouth and tapped her upper lip a few times as she pretended to think about it.
Yet another familiar voice cut through the murmurs of the straggling guests entering the reception hall to yell, “Francine!” Uncle Bandore.
At least she didn’t have to run and hide from him this time. Francine turned. “Uncle Bandore,” she said, trying to sound happy to see him.
“Good heavens, girl. What have you done to yourself?” He pointed to her hair and wrinkled his nose, making clear his distaste. Whether he didn’t like the short style or the new color or both was anyone’s guess.
“New life. New hair,” was all she said with a shrug.
Uncle Bandore looked at Raphael. “Say, I know you. You’re the wretched crust fish staying next door at my hotel.”
“Uncle Bandore! That’s not nice.”
“Well, he wouldn’t let me in to use the comms.”
