Page 1 of The Fiancée Farce
Chapter One
A few stray petals fluttered to the floor as Madison van Dalen née James’s bouquet soared through the air. The confection of sherbet-colored orchids and draping Dutch roses tumbled flowers over stems, missing the grabbiest hands, hurtling instead toward the deserted end of the dance floor.
Deserted, save for Tansy.
The wainscoting bit into the small of her back as she hugged the wall, her accelerating pulse pounding out a rhythm ofno, no, please no, not heras the bouquet’s distance dwindled, dwindled,disappeared. Tansy flinched, eyes shutting and arms rising reflexively, cushioning the flowers’ fall.
Damn it.
A gasp rose from the crowd. Heat crept up the front of Tansy’s throat, her underarms and the creases of her inner elbows damp with flop sweat. Everyone—all three hundred of Tucker and Madison’s closest friends and family—was going to be staring. Looking ather. What a nightmare.
Tansy cringed and braced herself for the stares, the inevitableglaresfrom those who thought catching a falling floral arrangementmeantsomething. She cracked one eye open and—
Okay, odd. No one was glancing in her direction, not even herstepmother, Katherine, the one responsible for dragging Tansy out onto the dance floor despite her many,manyobjections that she really,reallydidn’t see the point becausewhat were the odds of her catching the bouquet, anyway?
Famous last words.
It was like Tansy didn’t exist, like she hadn’t had the misfortune of catching the bouquet, as if the toss had never happened. At least two dozen guests had gathered, gawking not at her—thank God—but instead at the center of the dance floor, where Ashleigh, Tansy’s stepsister, clutched her face, eyes brimming with tears. She looked pissed, jaw set, one hand fisted at her side as if poised to exact retribution from the bridesmaid beside her, who was sheepishly massaging her elbow.
“Ashleigh.” Katherine scuttled across the room and grabbed her daughter’s face, tilting it toward the light with a grimace before whisking her off the dance floor. Katherine craned her head over her shoulder, frazzled eyes locking on Tansy. Her lips moved, mouthing what looked like the wordicefollowed by apleaseand then ahurrythat jolted Tansy into action.
In the time it took for her to wind her way through the maze of tables, dodging pint-sized ring bearers and drunk groomsmen, flag down a bartender, and retrace her steps all the way across the Grand Ballroom of the Seattle Yacht Club, a deep purple bruise had begun to bloom along the crest of Ashleigh’s cheek. Tansy winced and held out a linen napkin full of ice cubes embossed with Tucker and Madison’s initials. Fancy.
Ashleigh snatched the cold compress, pressing it to the corner of her eye with a sharp hiss. Her one good eye narrowed, gaze dropping to the bouquet clasped lightly in Tansy’s left hand, flowers trailing the floor. Ashleigh’s lips thinned.
Thanks for the ice, Tansy.
Not a problem, Ash. Happy to help.
Tansy sighed. In an alternate universe, maybe. In this one? She wouldn’t hold her breath.
Across the table, Madison’s younger sister, Jackie, smiled sweetly and pointed at the flowers. “Look at that! Congrats, Tansy.”
“It was nothing.” Tansy tucked the bouquet beneath her chair, out of sight, out of mind. “I didn’t even mean to catch it.”
Jackie’s smile went sly. “Who knows? Maybe you’ll be next.”
“To what?” Ashleigh asked, lowering the compress.
Jackie nodded to the front of the room, where Tucker held up a butter knife, studying his reflection, and Madison sipped surreptitiously from a flask before tucking it back inside the bodice of her ball gown. Tansy dared anyone to find two people more perfect for each other. “Next to get married.”
An awkward laugh, too loud and too high-pitched, burst from between Tansy’s lips. To be next would require her to be dating someone. “Let’s not get carried away.”
“Speaking of”—Ashleigh cocked her head—“whereisyour girlfriend? I’m beginning to think she doesn’t exist.”
Tansy swallowed a groan.Actuallydating someone.
“Don’t be silly. Of course she exists,” Jackie argued. “Tansy wouldn’t lie.”
“Have you met her?” Ashleigh asked.
Sweet, guileless Jackie looked offended on Tansy’s behalf. “Tansy’s not a liar.”
Tansy averted her gaze, fidgeting with the stem of her champagne flute, trying not to squirm or cringe or do anything that remotely screamedguilty. This entire conversation was treading into dangerous territory she wanted desperately to avoid.
“I meant the girlfriend.” Ashleigh rolled her eyes. “It’s been, what? Six months? And no one’s met her? Doessheknow you’re dating?”
Katherine’s sigh was full of reprove. “Ashleigh, darling, be nice.”
