Читать книгу Her Improper Affair - Shea McMaster - Страница 7

The last notes of the organ music echoing in the vast reaches of Grace Cathedral held the congregation in thrall. Birdie sat in the front pew of the magnificent cathedral on San Francisco’s Nob Hill as her brother’s wedding began. Behind her, approximately four hundred thirty-five guests filled only half of the nave. If she understood correctly, the number would be a tight fit at the reception venue, a ballroom at the St. Francis Hotel on Union Square.

At the altar, Drew took Meilin’s hand from her father. The two had eyes only for each other. The loudest sound heard over small rustles was Mr. Wu’s footsteps as he found his seat in the pews.

Beside Birdie, her mother sniffled into a lacy handkerchief. On her mother’s left, sitting on the aisle, her father had three more hankies tucked in the pockets of his suit. They held hands and shared a smile very similar to that of the bride and groom. It hadn’t been so very long ago they’d said their vows.

Across the aisle, on the bride’s side, the first three rows were jam-packed with what she imagined Chinese mafia might look like. The older men were stern-faced and their ladies dressed very much like the royal court of London, complete with fascinator hats. Most of that group represented the closest of Meilin Wu’s family—parents, brother, sister-in-law, nephews, aunts, uncles, and cousins. Behind them the rows were filled with more distant relatives, many friends, and scores of business associates. Many of them the old guard of Chinatown.

On the groom’s side, not quite as many pews were filled, but they held a surprisingly large number of friends and family from England. Several of whom were scheduled to attend the smaller ceremony back in Sussex in less than a week. The larger portion was local friends and business associates of her mother and grandfather. A few friends from Stanford. Not a bad showing paired with the Wu dynasty.

At the front, the bride and groom stood facing one another, absolutely absorbed in each other and the words of the priest at the altar. Birdie had heard the words so many times in the last year she nearly had them memorized.

Still, she had to admit her brother cleaned up very well. His bride, who never needed any cleaning, looked radiant. Birdie had no doubt Drew’s tux had been custom made in China; it fit too perfectly to be rented. The embroidered red silk vest, matching tie and handkerchief were also a dead giveaway. For all their marked differences, the pair were two halves of a whole. Him tall, blond with blue eyes, her small with dark hair, pearl smooth skin, and soft green, almond-shaped eyes. The expressions on their faces were identical. The two were love-struck for sure. A small part of her melted at the observation.

As beautiful as they both were, it was easy to assume animal attraction, although anyone who knew them knew it went so much deeper.

Despite being half way around the world, Meilin and her family had pulled together a beautiful and elaborate wedding. Starting with the bride herself.

Meilin wore a flowing strapless gown of white silk accented with a band of embroidered red trim on the overskirt and a three foot train of more embroidered red silk trailing from under the skirt split down the back. For her veil, she’d combined a clever mix of a supersized, heavily ornamented gold, diamond, and ruby Chinese hairclip over her hair gathered into a low knot with a long white veil flowing from it. Long, dangly gold earrings with more rubies, and the engagement ring of a large ruby surrounded by diamonds set in yellow gold completed the look.

The simple truth was the woman was gorgeous and Birdie’s brother clearly knew it. Frankly, most everyone in the church had their eyes glued to Meilin as she stared raptly at Drew. To Birdie, the droning of the priest was white noise.

Lined up on Meilin’s side of the altar, six attendants, each one dressed in ankle-length, red and gold, Mandarin styled gowns, strung out behind her. Long beaded earrings in matching red, hair ornaments of tiny red flowers, and cascading bouquets of red and white roses completed the look.

One near-miss Birdie had survived. Not that she didn’t like Meilin, and she really would have been honored to be asked to stand up with her, but the woman had what looked like a line-up from the Chinese Imperial Court on her side. Birdie would have stood out with her fair coloring and extra inches of height. She most definitely was not offended to be left out. Her presence would have thrown off the beauty of the picture.

Drew’s side was a little more mixed up. One of Meilin’s countless cousins, Jack Ling, stood as best man, while a few school mates, from both Eton and Stanford, created the line of groomsmen; they all wore red silk vests, although not embroidered like the groom’s. A line that included Oswald Attenborough.

Of course Drew would ask Ozzie. Birdie’s lip curled on its own. As luck would have it, Ozzie’s eyes flicked her way at just that moment. Amusement sparkled in his eyes from behind rimless glasses. Damn him. She gave him a glare in return, which only seemed to amuse him more. Time to rethink that tactic. Not ready to admit she might be squirming under his regard, she shifted slightly in her seat. Nope, not squirming. The pew seat was hard.

So many things had changed over the past twelve months. Drew had met Meilin a year ago, then spent a tumultuous summer trying to learn Mandarin and court a woman engaged to someone else. Then it was off to Beijing where he took over lead of the family’s office with Meilin at his side. Who, much to his great relief, also served as his interpreter. Drew’s Mandarin teacher claimed Drew hadn’t been his worst student, maybe, but darn close. Drew claimed he knew enough to make a polite greeting, say thank you, order dinner, and tell Meilin he loved her, and swore that’s all he needed to know.

Meilin was also Drew’s right hand when it came to making acquisitions for Lynford in China. Great choice on Dad’s part to hire Meilin. She could tell a dining table from a tea table, a chifforobe from a dresser, and the difference between a Chinese teapot versus Japanese. Drew could charm, wheel and deal, mind the financials, and negotiate the fine lines in the contracts, but Meilin made sure they dealt only in quality goods and didn’t get screwed over doing it. Dad considered it a major coup.

They’d made a few trips back, as Meilin still owned an interior design business in San Francisco, and they’d traveled to England for Christmas for the big family gathering. Birdie had only had her brother to herself for seven months, four of those sharing an apartment while Drew finished his International Law degree. As far as she was concerned, it hadn’t been long enough. She missed her brother when he was away. Until that Thanksgiving, just nineteen months prior, when her mother had been forced to admit Wyatt Ferguson hadn’t been Birdie’s biological father but rather the one who’d raised her for eighteen years, she’d never had a sibling. It wasn’t until she had him that she ached for what she’d missed growing up.

For a moment, her gaze once more stole away from the main attraction and drifted down the line of very well dressed groomsmen. Jack Ling grinned, very proud to be chosen for the honor of best man after introducing the couple. Next to him, Oswald stood at attention, his face carefully blank. His usual expression, especially around her. Very unlike his more carefree uncle, Larry Attenborough, sitting two rows back, who loved nothing more than to dig out the deep, dark details of everyone’s lives. He was fun to tease, unlike that stiff-necked nephew of his. Make that the very handsome and hot nephew. Oswald of the thick dark blond hair, light colored eyes behind frameless glasses, and a lean, muscular physique that layers of cloth couldn’t entirely hide. Too bad he was such a dork and killjoy. Behind Oswald were two of Drew’s friends from London, Phillip Hammond and Calvin Whetmore. It said something that they’d flown all the way here just for this event. Two more friends from California finished the lineup.

It about drove Birdie crazy the wedding was taking place in the middle of the week merely because it fell on the summer solstice. But that was Chinese superstition for you. Meilin’s mother had consulted with an elder who’d declared this the most auspicious day for Meilin to marry.

Of course part of the reason Birdie was happy to be in the audience was she had been too wrapped up in the last year of her master’s program. A sigh of relief left her, glad that was past. With this wedding out of the way, it was on to her future now.

This time next week, she’d be setting up her life in London and beginning her own career at Lynford. Eventually she’d be taking over for Dad’s retiring executive assistant, Eleanor Cuthbert. The next six months were a carefully constructed program to move her through all the divisions, working her way into the top office. The only problem with that was Oswald, currently in line with her and Drew for the day Dad decided to fully retire, had been hovering around the office, covering for Dad who’d taken more of a traveling role. Her mother described it as an extended working honeymoon. Impatience to get to London and start staking out her territory rode Birdie hard. Perhaps she’d never be named CEO of Lynford International Importers, but she’d sure have a say in the running of the company. Both Drew and Oswald had more experience with Lynford and had the required old boys’ club equipment between their legs.

Good old Oswald.

Ozzie. A little boring.

Ozinator. Intimidating.

Ozichu. Electrifying.

Ozimander. Flaming hot.

Ozmantis. Insect-like fighter. Hadn’t she heard a rumor he was big in mixed martial arts in London? Drew had said something about it once, but she hadn’t really been listening.

As if she’d said his name out loud, he turned his head just enough to look directly at her. She really hated it when he did that. It seemed like every time she tried to get a good long look without him noticing, he’d turn his head and catch her. Instead of looking away as she usually did, this time she held his gaze and lifted a brow. For just a flash, a twinkle of amusement zapped in, then out, of his eyes. In all probability it was the angle of the candle flames reflecting off his glasses. Or he was laughing at her. Having never heard him really laugh, she didn’t believe he knew how.

The hell with that. Narrowing her eyes at him, she gave him a good glare. Laugh at her, would he?

Not for long.

School was over and done, and she was on her way to London.

They’d see who got the last laugh.

The priest pronounced Drew and Meilin husband and wife. Didn’t even get out the words telling Drew to kiss his bride before he had her tipped back nearly to the floor, much to the amusement of everyone present. Bet the photographers loved it.

Drew finally hauled Meilin up from the dip, lifted her into his arms, and strode down the aisle with a huge grin on his face. Meilin laughed up at him and snuggled in while Martin, the family butler, stood in the shadows at the side of the nave, hands over his face. So much for the perfect picture of the new Mr. and Mrs. walking down the aisle. Maybe they could call it their Officer and a Gentleman moment.

The attendants started pairing up and following the newlyweds. As Oswald and his bridesmaid passed, he turned his head to look straight at Birdie.

Oh damn. He smiled. At her.

And didn’t that just make him the best looking thing she’d ever seen? His smile completely transformed him from an uptight British stiff to a Hollywood handsome hunk, a little like a blond, young Pierce Brosnan, but with glasses. He certainly wore a suit as elegantly and easily as the actor. Enough to steal what little breath she had left when he was around. This time was no different, she had to admit, as her heart pounded in double time. Deep inside, something melted, akin to a nuclear meltdown. Damn the man.

The moment passed and Birdie dropped back into her seat, the stack of enameled silver bangles on her wrist joining in with the recessional music, causing her mother to turn and look at her with concern.

“Birdie?”

“Yeah, Mom. I’m good.” She needed to take a powder room break, if only to get some strength back in her legs and wipe up some drool.

She wasn’t good, but she would be. Too bad she didn’t have an excuse to leave the reception early. Last thing she wanted was to find herself forced to dance with Ozzie. And knowing Drew, it would happen.

Once the participants passed down the aisle, Birdie’s parents stood and allowed Meilin’s immediate family to precede them toward the exit. Dad tucked Mom’s hand around his arm on his right and held out his left to Birdie.

“I’ll get Gran,” she told him.

The old lady sniffed from the aisle seat of the second row, but stood to her full height only a few inches shorter than Birdie and accepted her assistance, and they fell into line behind her parents, her grandfather Dailey right behind them. As elegant as any woman there, Gran maintained the slender build and blonde hair Birdie had inherited from her. The woman may have been seventy, but she easily passed for sixty. The result of good living and strong genes. Didn’t mean she was as sweet as pie. The opposite was true, in fact. Hard headed and extremely proud of the Robinsons’ vaulted position in British society, the woman’s ideals and prejudices had been a pain in Birdie’s back side from the start. And yet, they’d found enough common ground to sort of like each other. Or at least tolerate each other and get along with a veneer of civility. Most of the time.

“You next,” the old bat whispered at her.

“Not bloody likely,” she whispered back. The curse earned her a pinch on the inside of her forearm.

“Unless I miss my guess, the next to head the company will be a pair. A married pair.”

Birdie stared at her grandmother. The cranky old witch, who could never seem to find anything right about Birdie from her speech to her posture, had a positively wicked gleam in her blue eyes. It unnerved Birdie that the look was as familiar as the one in her own mirror. “You mean Drew and Meilin? Possibly.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You’re an evil woman,” she told her grandmother.

The woman’s laugh rang out in the church, enough to rise above the general murmur, enough that both Mom and Dad looked back over their shoulders.

“Doesn’t mean I’m wrong.” This time she patted Birdie’s arm. It was less comforting than the pinch.

“Well, we’ve got a long time to figure it all out.”

“So the young always believe,” her grandmother said cryptically.

“Not going to let you ruin this day, crazy woman. My brother just married a beautiful, wise, and loving woman. My parents are so happy they’re nearly stupid with it, and I am done with school. The sun is shining, the sages say this is a lucky day, and I’m going to enjoy it to the max.”

“Never said you shouldn’t. And mind your manners. Respect your elders. We’ve been in your shoes. You should listen to us more than you do. And mind your language. We don’t want her family to think we’re baseborn.”

“Anything else, Your Majesty?”

This time the old woman slapped her shoulder. “Be good or I’ll sic Oswald and Larry on you.”

Now there was a threat to make her shake in her Jimmy Choo’s. “Yes, ma’am. Thank you, ma’am. Anything I can get you, ma’am?”

“Just hush up, get me through that receiving line, and deliver me to the party.”

Sounded like a good life motto to Birdie.

Get me to the party.

“Easy peasy lemon squeezy, Gran.”

Something good to focus on for the coming year or two.

Because it would be a party when she got to London. She’d make sure of it.