Perfect Bride

Extracted 1 threads from 9780373772445-exw.PDFUntitled Article 01: UntitledMarch, 1822TWO HUNDRED and twenty-eight suitors, she thought. Dear God, how would she ever manage, much less choose? Blanche Harrington stood alone by one of the oversized windows in a small salon, outside the vast room where soon, the invasion of callers would begin. Just that morning, the black draperies that indicated she remained in mourning had come down. She had avoided marriage for eight years, but even she knew that with her fathers death, she needed a husband to help her manage his considerable and complicated fortune. But she dreaded the delugejust as she dreaded the future. Her best friend swept dramatically into the salon. oeBlanche, darling, there you are! We are about to open the front doors! she cried enthusiastically. Blanche stared out of the window at the circular front drive. Her father had been awarded his title as viscount many years ago, having made an impossible fortune in manufacturing. It was so long ago that no one considered them nouveau riche. Blanche had never known any other life than one of wealth, privilege and splendor. She was one of the empires greatest heiresses, but her father had allowed her to break off an en- gagement eight years ago, and although he had never stopped introducing her to suitors, he had wanted her to marry for love. It was an absurd notion, of course. Not because no one married for love. It was absurd because Blanche knew she was incapable of falling in love. But she would marry, because although Harrington had passed too swiftly to have verbalized a dying wishhe had been suddenly stricken with pneumoniaBlanche knew he wanted nothing more than to see her securely wed to an hon- orable gentleman. Three dozen carriages littered her beautiful drive. There had been five hundred condolence calls six months ago. Of the cards left, 228 had belonged to eligible bachelors. Blanche was dismayed but resolved. How many of them were not fortune-hunting rogues? As she had long ago given up on ever loving any man, her intention now was to find one sensible, decent, noble man in the lot. oeOh dear. Bess Waverly came up beside her. oeYou are broodingI know you better than you know yourselfwe have been friends since we were nine years old! Please do not tell me you wish to send everyone away when I have an- nounced your period of mourning to be over. Is there a point in mourning for another six months? You will only delay the inevitable. Blanche looked at her best friend. They were as different as night and day, and that was one of the reasons she loved her soand vice versa. Bess was dramatic, vivacious and sultry she was on her second husband and her twentieth lover, at leastand she made no pretense of the fact that she enjoyed every aspect of life, and that included as much passion as possible. Blanche was almost twenty-eight years old, she had chosen not to marry until now, and she remained a virgin. She found life pleasing enoughshe enjoyed walks in the park, shopping and teas, the opera and balls. But she had not a clue as to what passion was, or how it felt, not in any shape or form. Her heart was entirely defective. It beat, but refused to en- tertain any extremes of emotion. The sun was yellow, never gold. A comedy was amusing, never hilarious. Chocolate was sweet, but easily passed up. A buck might be handsomeJoyce, Brenda is the author of 'Perfect Bride ', published 2007 under ISBN 9780373772445 and ISBN 0373772440.