Jared wasn’t at dinner. His absence was never mentioned or explained to hi
s fiancée.
Chapter 8
For the next few days, Lauren was thrust into such a beehive of activity that she had little time for introspection. The sheer importance of the transpiring events prevented her from examining them too closely. It was far easier to be swept along on the tide. So busy were the days that at night she fell into bed exhausted, hoping for rapid and complete oblivion. But her brain refused to slumber, and she was forced to dwell on what she was about to do until her mind finally relinquished its control over her body, and her burning, gritty eyes closed in restless sleep.
Elena and Rosa were at first surprised that Señor Jared was marrying the lovely Miss Holbrook. But soon they were riding the crest of excitement and got caught up in the flurry of activity. They nearly drove Lauren to distraction with their petting and fawning over her.
Jared’s reaction to their upcoming marriage was one of cool acceptance. He neither feigned affection, nor treated her with the resentment she knew he must feel. Each time they were together, he regarded her with the same aloof indifference that he did everyone else. He was polite, but not effusively so. He conversed with her when necessary, but didn’t initiate any private dialogues between them. He could have loved her passionately or despised her with equal fervor. His remote expression gave away nothing.
Olivia organized the wedding in the brief span of time allotted. Lauren was consulted on little in regard to the arrangements. She was told it would be a private civil ceremony held in the large parlor. There would be a small reception afterward for the few invited guests. The following day, Lauren and Jared would go to Keypoint for a “honeymoon.”
Lauren was fitted several times a day for the trousseau which Olivia insisted on despite Lauren’s protests to the contrary. Olivia’s gesture wasn’t motivated by generosity or any blossoming maternal affection for Lauren, but by concern that everything appear proper and above suspicion.
She had spread the word of Lauren’s background through several famed gossips. The story was that Lauren’s parents couldn’t attend the wedding because her father was suffering from a heart condition that made travel impossible. Lauren’s dear mother had far too many responsibilities to oversee the wedding, so Olivia had graciously offered to handle it. If anyone was suspicious, they feared the indomitable Olivia too much to say so.
Mrs. Gibbons, the seamstress who had been commissioned to provide Lauren with a complete wardrobe in an impossible amount of time, reflected the general shock and thrill that Texas’s most eligible bachelor, Jared Lockett, had finally been snared.
Lauren was amazed at the quantity and quality of clothes being made for her. There were skirts and shirtwaists of the finest fabrics. All of the blouses were trimmed in delicate, weblike lace. Dresses for daytime and evening, cloaks, coats, hats, gloves were strewn around her room in varying stages of completion. Mrs. Gibbons worked around Lauren like a sculptor around a masterpiece, measuring, twisting, pulling, turning, lifting, pinching, all the time murmuring to herself in appreciation of her subject. She made undergarments of the finest linen trimmed with blue satin ribbons and fine lace.
Lauren stood with flushed cheeks as Mrs. Gibbons deftly pinned a new chemise onto her. “They are very… sheer, aren’t they?” Lauren asked shyly, glancing down at her breasts so clearly revealed through the fabric.
Mrs. Gibbons chuckled softly. “Mr. Lockett will love these underthings, but he’ll be impatient to see you out of them, too. You have a beautiful body, Lauren. After he sees you without your clothes, he may never let you dress again!”
Lauren was appalled at such a thought. She was still alarmed over her reaction to Jared’s kiss. Though she had fought William with all her strength, she hadn’t resisted Jared, at least not strenuously. Of course, one couldn’t compare the two men. William was repulsive, while Jared was handsome and virile, and his eyes…
No! She wasn’t going to think about him. He obviously didn’t think of her. Where before he had stared at her relentlessly, now he studiously ignored her. Of the two, Lauren couldn’t have said which disturbed her most.
* * *
To Olivia’s credit, everything was completed in time. Lauren’s new wardrobe hung in her closet except for the clothes Elena had packed for her to take to Keypoint.
Rosa and several extra helpers had been cooking and baking for days in preparation for the “small reception.” The house was bedecked with flowers and potted ferns. How Olivia had managed to have them transported from Austin without their wilting would remain a mystery to the bride.
She watched the dawn of her wedding day from the upstairs window where only weeks before she had watched Ben Lockett’s funeral cortège commence.
“Are you pleased, Ben?” Lauren asked in a whisper just as the sun broke over the horizon. She tried to convince herself that the timely sunrise was a good omen.
Elena arrived with a breakfast tray. Anticipation glowed in her liquid eyes and she chattered cheerfully. When Lauren had eaten all her nervous stomach would tolerate, she bathed leisurely and Elena began helping her dress.
Lauren’s wedding gown spurned tradition and was beautiful in its uniqueness. Ecru lace was lined with a silk slip of the same color. The leg-of-mutton sleeves and the bodice, to the top curve of her breasts, were left unlined. The collar stood high and flared slightly at her jaw. One deep flounce accented the bottom of the slim skirt and barely brushed the vamp of her bone kid slippers. She pinned a nosegay of deep purple violets at her waist. Her brooch watch was invisibly secured to her petticoat.
Her hair was pulled up in its usual pompadour, but Elena insisted on curling a few loose tendrils to hang around her face and on her neck. Lauren looked back at the girl in the mirror and wondered if that vision in the costly gown, with the pale face and cautious eyes, could really be she.
Elena stared at her idol with reverence. “Señorita Lauren, you are beautiful,” she whispered. “Like the Blessed Virgin Mary.” Shyly she kissed Lauren on the cheek, her huge eyes filled with tears.
“Thank you, Elena. I wish you could be there during the ceremony. You’re my best friend.”
“I would like that, but…” Elena gave a characteristic shrug. Then she giggled and said mischievously, “I would rather be a witness to the wedding night and see if all the stories about Señor Jared are true. They say he is as big as a stallion. You are very lucky, no?” Still giggling, she pushed Lauren toward the stairs. The bride’s face had whitened significantly.
It was prearranged that Carson would escort her down the aisle. As she met him at the foot of the grand staircase, Lauren was terrified that her knees wouldn’t be able to support her much longer. Carson spoke to her softly, smiled, patted her arm reassuringly, and led her toward the formal parlor.
They stood under the portiere while the fifty or more guests who had been whispering animatedly suddenly ceased all conversation. The organ, borrowed for the afternoon from the Methodist church, filled the room with soft, slightly wheezing strains.
This was the first time anyone except Parker and Kurt Vandiver had seen the mysterious Miss Holbrook, and all were instantly captivated by her breathtaking beauty. It was easy to see how she had lassoed the mustang heart of Jared Lockett.
Had the groom not had years of experience in keeping the rigid muscles of his face from showing any emotion, he might very well have gasped in pleasure at the sight of his bride. He was adamantly against this farce of a marriage, but how could any red-blooded man remain indifferent to the woman who would soon bear his name?