Bless the Bride

spirit of the air and then we would have been complete,” Sid said, “but as it is, you look as the future Mrs. Daniel Sullivan should—respectable and demure.”
    “Oh, dear. That sounds boring.”
    “My sweet, you are marrying a boring and respectable man. What can I say?” Sid chuckled. “But I’m sure you’ll be blissfully happy and that’s all that matters.”
    I thought about this as we removed the aspics and cold salmon from the pantry where they had been sitting on ice. Was I really destined for a boring, respectable life with Daniel? Would he forbid me to attend such functions as this in future? Would he even pressure me eventually to break off my friendship with Sid and Gus? Rubbish , I said to myself. I was a strong person and not even my husband was going to tell me what to do. I swept out of the pantry with the platter of salmon, narrowly missing a calamity as it slid across the tilting plate.
    The first guests started to arrive—artists and actors, suffragists, and society ladies I had met through my hostesses, as well as people I had never met. Some were in fabulous costumes, while others had chosen more conventional evening dress. Sarah and Monty were of the latter. She looked enchanting in powder blue while he was dashing in white tie and tails. He looked distinctly uncomfortable as he examined the other occupants of the living room.
    “Come and try the punch, Mr. Warrington-Chase,” Gus whisked him away. “Or would you prefer champagne to start with?”
    “Most kind,” Monty muttered, looking distinctly uneasy as he was led away by a water sprite.
    “Oh, dear.” Sarah gave me an embarrassed grin. “I was not at all sure about this and I’m afraid it’s going to be a disaster. Monty really doesn’t approve of this sort of thing. I tried to persuade him to wear a costume—I suggested that he come as Lord Byron. That’s respectable enough, isn’t it? I even bought him the wig, but he refused to wear it.”
    “But they have costume balls in England.”
    “Yes, but with the right sort of people. It’s apparently all right if lords and ladies put on masks and costumes, but not bohemians. I know he only allows me to mix with Sid and Gus because it’s such a short time before we sail for our new life at his country estate.”
    “You must put your foot down and not find yourself under Monty’s thumb, Sarah,” I said. “Daniel would prefer that I not have Sid and Gus as my friends. He wanted us to take a house in a very different neighborhood so that I could be away from them, but I made it clear that I was not abandoning my friends.”
    She sighed. “You are so brave. But I shall be far away from friends and moving in a strange society. I won’t know how to behave and I shall need Monty to guide me.”
    “Of course you’ll know how to behave,” I said. “It’s not as if you started life in a peasant’s cottage like me. You were raised in a good family, and good manners are the same everywhere in the world. Trust me, Monty’s friends will be enchanted with you.”
    “I hope so.” She gave a weak smile.
    Monty returned, carrying two glasses of champagne. “Here you are, my dear,” he said. He was in the process of handing her the glass when he looked up and said, “What in God’s name is that?”
    My friend Ryan O’Hare, the flamboyant Irish playwright, had arrived. He was wearing tight black trousers, a frilly white jabot, and a red-lined cape. His dark hair was curled and flicked over his forehead. He looked devastatingly handsome as he held out his hands to me in dramatic gesture. “Molly, my dearest. Come and greet Lord Byron,” he said.
    I heard a grunt from Monty.
    Ryan crossed the room to me, took my hand, and kissed it. “Ravishing, as always,” he muttered. Then he noticed Monty standing beside me. “And who is this?” he asked. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”
    “This is Montague Warrington-Chase,” I said.
    Ryan turned the full force of his charm on Monty. “Warrington-Chase? English? I believe I once had tea at your place.”
    “You did?” Monty looked incredulous.
    “When I was a child. Osbourne St. George, isn’t it?”
    “Good God,” Monty said curtly. “And what was your name, sir?”
    “Ryan O’Hare. The family has a nice little castle in Ireland and I moved in your circles before I was banished.”
    “Ryan O’Hare. You’re the playwright who caused that stir because of the play you wrote about Queen Victoria and Prince