Jessica Hart - Hitched!

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Hitched!: краткое содержание, описание и аннотация

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What I, engineer Frith Williams, know about weddings could fit on a piece of confetti…So how did workaholic me end up wedding planner for my tabloid-darling sister? Don’t ask! Time to make (yet another) To-Mess Up list: 1. Venue – surely the added distraction of unbearably charming venue manager George Challoner is a bonus?! 2. Seating Plan – it’s in disarray! I need a +1 and George is the only singleton around. Must remember not to fall for that lethally irresistible smile! 3. Catching the Bouquet – I might now be an expert on weddings, but broken hearts don’t mend easily. I’ll still never contemplate my own…

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‘What about my wedding? How am I going to manage without my chief bridesmaid?’

‘Can’t one of your other bridesmaids do it?’ The last time I had been involved in exhaustive bridesmaid negotiations, Saffron had planned on at least six.

‘There’s no one suitable.’

I was losing patience. ‘Being chief bridesmaid doesn’t call for great management skills,’ I said. ‘It’s not exactly life and death stuff, is it?’

A mistake. Saffron’s emerald eyes flashed and she bounced up indignantly on the cushions. ‘Are you saying my wedding’s not important?’

‘Well, it’s not—’ A casual nudge against my knee by George’s foot made me pause, and realise that I was going about this quite the wrong way. ‘I mean, of course it’s important for you,’ I amended with a quick glance at Roly. ‘I just thought one of the other girls would do as well.’

It turned out that I had no idea what was involved in planning a wedding. Saffron enumerated all the chief bridesmaid’s duties, ticking them off on her fingers, until I was lost in details of fittings and favours and rehearsal dinners.

‘And then, of course, there’s the hen party,’ said Saffron. ‘That’s nearly as important as the wedding itself. That’s your main job.’

‘Wait, hold on! My job?’ I struggled forward on the sofa in consternation.

‘You’re the only one who can do it.’

‘Oh, no. Oh, no, no, no, no.’ I waved my hands frantically to push the very idea away. ‘That’s a very bad idea.’

George, the beast, was shaking with laughter. I could feel it reverberating along the sofa, and I glared at him.

‘But you’re my sister,’ said Saffron, hurt.

‘Saffron, we discussed this before, and we agreed I wouldn’t fit in with everyone else.’

‘And you’re good at managing projects,’ Saffron went on as if I hadn’t spoken. ‘It has to be you.’

I drew in a deep breath. I had to put a stop to this right away. ‘I’m sorry,’ I said as firmly as I knew how. ‘I can’t drop everything to run up and down to London, Saffron. I’ve got a visitor and conference centre to build on schedule and on budget...’

I stopped, realising that I might as well have been speaking Polish. It was doubtful if Saffron had ever come across the word ‘budget’ before.

‘The thing is, Hugh’s depending on me to see this project through for him,’ I tried to explain. ‘I can’t let him down.’

‘But you can let me down!’

Suppressing a sigh, I tried a different tack. ‘You need a bridesmaid who can really give you the attention you deserve,’ I said. ‘One of your friends who lives in London and has the time to find you just the right place for your party, and help you choose all the wedding details. You know I’m no good at that kind of thing,’ I added with a cajoling smile, but Saffron refused to be consoled.

‘You’re my sister.’ Saffron’s lower lip trembled tragically. ‘I’d think you’d want to be part of my big day. There’s no one else I can rely on. Daddy’s always working, and I’ve never had a mother.’

Saffron: barely a GCSE to her name, but a PhD in emotional blackmail.

‘You’ve got Jax.’

‘He’s touring, and anyway he’s no good at wedding stuff.’ The green eyes swam with tears. Wordlessly, Roly reached for her hand, and Saffron permitted herself a little sob. ‘Couldn’t you at least organise the hen party? Otherwise I won’t have one, and what sort of bride doesn’t have a party?’

I drew a breath and told myself to stay firm. ‘I would, but I have this pesky thing called a job. I realise you may not have come across the concept before,’ I added, although the irony was lost on Saffron, ‘but a job involves turning up at a specific time and place and working in exchange for money.’

‘Well, that’s not a problem. Daddy would pay you if you need money.’

My expression tightened. ‘I’m not taking anything from him,’ I said in a flat voice. ‘And anyway, it’s not about money. It’s about responsibility. I’ve made a commitment to see this job through until Hugh is better. We have a contract and a responsibility to our client—who is Lord Whellerby here,’ I said, not that I expected that to mean much to Saffron.

It was too much to hope that my sister might realise what an awkward situation she was putting me in and suddenly become rational.

Not that Roly was helping by patting Saffron’s hand sympathetically, as if her bridesmaid crisis were more important than getting his new conference centre built on time.

Saffron pouted. ‘I don’t see why you need a stupid job anyway. If you’d only talk to Daddy, you could do whatever you liked. I don’t understand why you’re both so stubborn about each other!’

‘My career is what I like,’ I said, exasperated. ‘I don’t understand why you can’t understand that!’

‘Then what am I going to do?’ Saffron’s face crumpled. ‘Oh, I can’t believe you’d be this mean to me!’

I rubbed my temples. I loved my sister, but sometimes she could be exasperating.

‘I know the wedding is important to you, Saffron, but the conference centre is important to Lord Whellerby,’ I said. ‘A lot of money and a lot of jobs are depending on it, and the project has to come in on time.’

I threw an appealing look at Roly, who missed his cue completely. ‘I’m sure a week or two late wouldn’t matter,’ he said, gazing adoringly at Saffron, who was making a great play of biting her lip while the tears trembled and sparkled bewitchingly on the ends of her lashes.

Helplessly, I turned without thinking to George. I don’t know what my expression was like, but I must have seemed as if I was begging for help.

‘I think it would matter to Hugh Morrison,’ he said. ‘It’s not that long since his heart attack, and any delays would add a stress that he just doesn’t need at the moment.’

‘Exactly,’ I said, with a grateful look, and Roly looked chastened.

Sensing that she was losing her support, Saffron slumped back. ‘You don’t seem to realise that organising a wedding is stressful too,’ she complained. ‘It’s one of the most stressful times of your life, and that’s why you need the support of your family. But if this Hugh person is more important to you than I am, I—’

George sat forward. ‘Perhaps I could make a suggestion?’

I immediately looked wary, Saffron hopeful. ‘What?’ she asked tearfully.

‘You want Frith to organise a bridal party for you, but she can’t spare the time to go to London, right?’ He waited for Saffron to nod, while my brows drew together suspiciously. ‘So why not have the party here?’ he said.

‘Here?’

‘Now I know what you’re going to say.’ George held up his hands to stop Saffron from going any further, focusing on her rather than on me, although he must have been able to feel me glaring at him from the other end of the sofa. ‘You can’t go clubbing in Whellerby. This isn’t London, it isn’t cool...but why not make your party different from all the others? Anyone can go to a club or a restaurant in London. How many people can take over a stately home?’

‘Probably most of Saffron’s friends,’ I said crisply, my gratitude forgotten. I had a sinking suspicion where this was going. ‘There’s no question of—’

‘You mean, like, a house party?’ Saffron interrupted me.

‘Exactly,’ said George.

‘We could wear costumes, like in that TV series...’

‘You’ve got it. You could be the beautiful daughter, your friends can be dashing widows, or young ladies waiting to make their come out, and Frith could be the repressed housekeeper who’s secretly in love with one of the footmen.’

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