The Runaway Bridesmaid by Daisy James Read Free Book Online Page A

for her hard work.
    Annoyingly, now she intended to fly to the UK for her aunt’s funeral, Giles would get his way after all – but there was no alternative. Monday was the deadline for their purchase. She had been excited and grateful to at last be sufficiently trusted to handle a transaction based solely on her own thorough research and advice. This portfolio investment was for a wealthy family’s trust fund set up in the name of their deceased daughter, Charlotte Baker, and Rosie had been meticulous in her preparation and planning.
    She shook her head to clear her scattered thoughts and forced herself into the shower before calling a taxi to take her to the airport and the long flight to Heathrow. Her escape to the UK, albeit for her beloved aunt’s funeral, would be a welcome respite. She yearned for the chance to distance herself from recent events, for the gift of perspective.
    Rosie prayed that now Freya had curtailed her frequent jaunts to the party hot spots of Europe and was settling down to married life with Jacob, she could at last relinquish the presumed-temporary caring role. She hoped she had performed her last familial duty. Her sister’s wedding had been the first of the last seven she’d actually had a date. Daniel, one of her gay friends, had offered his services as wingman, but she feared an outburst of British honesty similar to the last time he’d met her sister and casually enquired of her what personal qualities had first attracted her to the multimillionaire, Jacob Bennett, Jr. She had politely refused his kind offer to be her plus-one.
    Of course, this had meant admitting that Giles had stepped up to accompany her – something Giles had wanted to keep secret as dating between colleagues at Harlow Fenton was frowned upon. She’d been happy to oblige; it kept things simple, and she would most likely be the one to take any flack about work place dating.
    Once the happy couple were safely dispatched on their honeymoon to Hawaii, Rosie had intended to ratchet up her work rate at the office, but now she had no idea what she was going to do. After she had attended the funeral, met with the English solicitor and sorted her aunt’s legal affairs, could she really see herself back at her desk by the following Friday morning?

Chapter Eight
    As tiny Devonshire hamlets and the rolling hills of Exmoor National Park flashed by the taxi’s window, and the low orb of the sun rose above the horizon, the diaphanous light of dawn skimmed its silvery fingers over thatched rooftops. Mist draped its veil over the fields and dew sparkled on emerging leaves, as Rosie’s exhausted brain meandered the labyrinths of memory to alight upon the time she had spent with her aunt the previous year – repairing her broken heart and expanding her soul.
    The abiding image from those recollections was of Thornleigh Lodge, its scarlet front door bedecked with a garland of ivory roses and its garden swathed in vibrant fuchsias and violet cat-faced pansies. The whole bucolic scene had been presided over by a majestic cherry tree under whose canopy of blossoms she and Bernice had lingered, reading, sketching, painting, talking, the latter activity being the balm and then the cure for her broken heart.
    She had assured Bernice that she intended to continue these quiet pursuits which had generated such a sensation of calm when she returned to Manhattan, but of course she hadn’t. Nor had she undertaken the promised return visit to the UK, a failure which one again produced a squirm of discomfort in her abdomen.
    As they entered Bernice’s home village of Brampton, a flash of familiarity hit Rosie. She couldn’t prevent a curl appearing at the corners of her lips when she noticed the proclamation above the Brampton village road sign proudly announcing ‘Winner of Britain in Bloom Contest’. She experienced that illusive feeling of coming home, which she never experienced when she returned to the neighbourhood of her apartment