She nodded. “It is nothing,” she said, trying to sound her usual matter-of-fact self. “It is only that it never felt quite so immediate.”
“Of course,” Richard said. “It is a surprise, that is all. Once you grow used to the idea, it will all seem so much better. Normal, even. After all, you have always known you were to be Haselby’s wife. And think of how much you will enjoy planning the wedding. Uncle Robert says it is to be a grand affair. In London, I believe. Davenport insists upon it.”
Lucy felt herself nod. She did rather like to plan things. There was such a pleasant feeling of being in charge that came along with it.
“Hermione can be your attendant, as well,” Richard added.
“Of course,” Lucy murmured. Because, really, who else would she choose?
“Is there a color that doesn’t favor her?” Richard asked with a frown. “Because you will be the bride. You don’t want to be overshadowed.”
Lucy rolled her eyes. That was a brother for you.
He seemed not to realize that he had insulted her, though, and Lucy supposed she shouldn’t have been surprised. Hermione’s beauty was so legendary that no one took insult with an unfavorable comparison. One would have to be delusional to think otherwise.
“I can’t very well put her in black,” Lucy said. It was the only hue she could think of that turned Hermione a bit sallow.
“No, no you couldn’t, could you?” Richard paused, clearly pondering this, and Lucy stared at him in disbelief. Her brother, who had to be regularly informed of what was fashionable and what was not, was actually interested in the shade of Hermione’s attendant dress.
“Hermione can wear whatever color she desires,” Lucy decided. And why not? Of all the people who would be in attendance, there was no one who meant more to her than her closest friend.
“That’s very kind of you,” Richard said. He looked at her thoughtfully. “You’re a good friend, Lucy.”
Lucy knew she should have felt complimented, but instead she just wondered why it had taken him so long to realize it.
Richard gave her a smile, then looked down at the flower, still in his hands. He held it up, twirled it a few times, the stem rolling back and forth between his thumb and index finger. He blinked, his brow furrowing a touch, then he placed the flower in front of her dress. They were the same blue—slightly purple, maybe just a little bit gray.
“You should wear this color,” he said. “You look quite lovely just now.”
He sounded a little surprised, so Lucy knew that he was not just saying it. “Thank you,” she said. She’d always thought the hue made her eyes a bit brighter. Richard was the first person besides Hermione ever to comment on it. “Perhaps I will.”
“Shall we walk back to the house?” he asked. “I am sure you will wish to tell Hermione everything.”
She paused, then shook her head. “No, thank you. I think I shall remain outside for a short while.” She motioned to a spot near the path that led down to the lake. “There is a bench not too far away. And the sun feels rather pleasant on my face.”
“Are you certain?” Richard squinted up at the sky. “You’re always saying you don’t want to get freckles.”
“I already have freckles, Richard. And I won’t be very long.” She hadn’t planned to come outside when she’d gone to greet him, so she had not brought her bonnet. But it was early yet in the day. A few minutes of sunshine would not destroy her complexion.
And besides that, she wanted to. Wouldn’t it be nice to do something just because she wanted to, and not because it was expected?
Richard nodded. “I will see you at dinner?”
“I believe it is laid at half one.”
He grinned. “You would know.”
“There is nothing like a brother,” she grumbled.
“And there is nothing like a sister.” He leaned over and kissed her brow, catching her completely off-guard.
“Oh, Richard,” she muttered, aghast at her soppy reaction. She never cried. In fact, she was known for her complete lack of flowerpot tendencies.
“Go on,” he said, with enough affection to send one tear rolling down her cheek. Lucy brushed it away, embarrassed that he’d seen it, embarrassed that she’d done it.
Richard squeezed her hand and motioned with his head toward the south lawn. “Go stare at the trees and do whatever you need to do. You’ll feel better after you have a few moments to yourself.”
“I don’t feel poorly,” Lucy said quickly. “There is no need for me to feel better.”