‘Maybe just one,’ Rose admitted. ‘And they are very pretty, aren’t they?’
‘They’re perfect,’ Violet said. ‘Just like everything else about today. Now, come on, let’s go present ourselves for inspection.’
Violet followed her sisters out of the room, pausing to shut the door behind her. Strange to think she was leaving this place as herself, but would be returning as a married woman. Almost as impossible to believe as the thought of her getting married at all.
But here she was, with her sisters at her side, preparing to say I do to the last man she’d ever imagined marrying. And she couldn’t be happier.
Sherry Huntingdon-Cross clapped her hands together with delight at the sight of them. ‘Oh, don’t you all look perfect,’ she gushed before wedding planner mode took over again. ‘Right, I’m going to head down and take my seat—that’s the sign for the ushers to get everyone else seated. Rose, Daisy, you follow just behind me. Then Rick—where is your father, anyway?’
‘Here, honey.’ Rick Cross came rushing out of his studio, shoving pieces of paper into his pocket. ‘Just a couple of last-minute edits. Don’t worry,’ he added with a wink at Violet. ‘I kept the story about that time you fell in the pond at that hotel roof garden when we were on tour in Europe.’
‘Oh, good,’ Violet said unconvincingly.
‘Right,’ Sherry said again, commanding everyone’s attention. ‘I’m leaving. Daisy, Rose, prepare to follow.’
The wedding procession had been timed to perfection. As her father took her arm and led her out of the front door of her childhood home behind her sisters, Violet took a deep breath and followed her family down to the shady clearing, just behind the trees, where they’d set up the chairs and ceremony area. It wasn’t a huge wedding—despite Sherry’s attempts—but neither was it the tiny one Violet would have insisted on even a few months ago.
She wasn’t scared to share her new happiness, to let others see her moving on with her life in exciting new directions. She wasn’t hiding any more.
At the front of the aisle, Tom turned, as if sensing her presence, and Violet couldn’t hold back her smile at the sight of him in his perfect suit, waiting for her to join him.
‘You ready for this, honey?’ Rick asked as the string quartet struck up the canon.
‘How could I not be?’ Violet whispered back. ‘After all, when you know, you know.’
* * * * *
Keep reading for an excerpt from A MILLIONAIRE FOR CINDERELLA by Barbara Wallace.
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CHAPTER ONE
HOW LONG DID it take to examine one little old lady? Patience paced the length of the hospital emergency room for what felt like the hundredth time. What was taking so long?
“Excuse me.” She knocked on the glass window separating the admissions desk from the rest of the emergency waiting area. “My...grandmother...has been back there for a long time.” She figured the lie would get her more sympathy than saying “my employer.” Luckily there’d been a shift change; the previous nurse on duty would have called her on it. “Is there any way I can find out what’s happening?”
The nurse gave her a sympathetic smile. “I’m sorry, we’re really busy today, and things are backed up. I’m sure a doctor will be out to talk with you soon.”
Easy for her to say. She hadn’t found her employer crumpled at the foot of a stairwell.
Ana’s cry replayed in her head. Frail, weak. If only she hadn’t been in the other room...if only she hadn’t told Nigel he needed to wait for his dinner, then Ana wouldn’t be here. She’d be having her tea in the main salon like she did every afternoon.
Patience couldn’t help her sad, soft chuckle. A year ago she didn’t know what a salon was. Goes to show how much working for Ana had changed her life. If only Ana knew how she’d rescued Patience, taking her from the dark and dirty and bringing her into a place that was bright and clean.
Of course, Ana couldn’t know. As far as Patience was concerned, her life started the day she began cleaning house for Anastasia Duchenko. Everything she did beforehand had been washed away.
The hospital doors opened with a soft whoosh, announcing the arrival of another visitor. Immediately, the atmosphere in the room changed, and not because of the June heat disrupting the air-conditioning. The conversations stilled as all attention went to the new arrival. Even the admissions nurse straightened. For a second, Patience wondered if a local celebrity had walked in. The air had that kind of expectancy.
His tailored shirt and silk tie screamed superiority as did his perfect posture. A crown of brown curls kept his features from being too harsh, but only just. No doubt about it, this was a man who expected to be in charge. Bet he wouldn’t be kept waiting an hour.
The man strode straight to the admissions window. Patience was about to resume her pacing when she heard him say the name Duchenko.
Couldn’t be a coincidence. This could be the break she needed to find out about Ana. She combed her dark hair away from her face, smoothed the front of her tee shirt and stepped forward. “Excuse me, did I hear you ask about Ana Duchenko?”
He turned in her direction. “Who’s asking?”
For a moment, Patience lost the ability to speak. He was looking down at her with eyes the same shade as the blue in a flame, the hue so vivid it couldn’t possibly be real. Lit with intensity, they were the kind of eyes that you swore were looking deep inside your soul. “Patience,” she replied, recovering. “I’m Patience Rush.”
She didn’t think it possible for his stare to intensify but it did. “Aunt Anastasia’s housekeeper?”
His aunt. Suddenly Patience realized who she was talking to. This was Stuart Duchenko, Ana’s great-nephew, the one who called twice a week. Actually, as far as she knew, the only Duchenko relative Ana talked to. Patience didn’t know why, other than there’d been some kind of rift and Ana refused to deal with what she called “the rest of the sorry lot.” Only Stuart, who managed her financial affairs, remained in her good graces.
“I thought you were in Los Angeles,” she said after he introduced himself. Ana said he’d been stuck there for almost a year while some billionaire’s family argued over a will.
“My case finished yesterday. What happened?”
“Nigel happened.” Nigel bein
g Ana’s overly indulged cat.
She could tell from Stuart’s expression, he didn’t find the answer amusing. Not that she could blame him under the circumstances. She wondered, though, if he would find the story amusing under any circumstances. His mouth didn’t look like it smiled much.
“He was in the foyer meowing,” she continued. “Letting everyone know that his dinner was late. Near as I can guess, when Ana came down the stairs, he started weaving around her ankles, and she lost her balance.”
He raised a brow. “Near as you can guess?”
Okay, the man was definitely an attorney; Patience felt she was on trial with all the questions. Of course, that could also be her guilty conscience bothering her. “I was in the dining room polishing the silver. I heard Ana cry out, but by the time I got there, she was already on the floor.” She shuddered, remembering. The image of Ana crumpled at the foot of the stairs, moaning, wouldn’t leave her soon.
Ana’s nephew didn’t respond other than to stare long and hard in her direction before turning back to the admissions nurse. “I’d like to see my aunt, please,” he said. It might have been said softly, like a request, but there was no mistaking the command in his voice.
The nurse nodded. “I’ll see what I can do.”
Finally, they were getting somewhere. “I’ve been trying to get an update on Ana’s condition since we arrived, but no one would tell me anything.”
“Nor would they,” he replied. “Privacy laws. You’re not family.”
Well, wasn’t somebody feeling territorial. Never mind that she was the one who’d brought Ana in and filled out the admissions paperwork. Anyone with two heads could see she cared about the woman. What difference did it make whether she was family or not?
She had to admit, Ana’s nephew wasn’t at all what she expected. Ana was always talking about how sweet “her Stuart” was. Such a pussycat, she’d coo after hanging up the phone. The man standing next to her wasn’t a pussy anything. He was far too predatory. She could practically smell the killer instinct.