The Life She Wanted: A Novel(50)

Pandora wished she could excuse herself and join Harley, but it wouldn’t be polite.

“Milton and Adele are giving us a house as our wedding present,” she said to Lillian. “They told us at the rehearsal. It’s called Summerhill.”

Summerhill was only a mile from Blythdale. The houses even shared a paddock. It was built by Richard Morris Hunt in the Gothic style with a third floor, which would make a perfect nursery.

Lillian’s face turned pale. She furiously fanned herself.

“He couldn’t have given you Summerhill. It’s not for sale.”

Pandora smiled her brightest smile.

“I can’t believe it myself. The owners were clients of Milton’s, and the house wasn’t even on the market. We haven’t seen it, but Adele said I’ll fall in love. We’re going to start furnishing it as soon as we return from our honeymoon.”

Lillian smiled as politely as she could and pulled Owen onto the dance floor. Virginia joined Pandora.

“What did you say to Lillian?” Virginia wondered. “She’s as white as the china.”

“We shouldn’t gossip about the guests,” Pandora chided. They both giggled and turned to take in the view of the gardens.

The sun had set, the moon was full and bright. Pandora had chosen the decor herself. She had wanted the lawn to look as if the stars had dropped down from the sky. The tables were covered with silver tablecloths, and silver bows were tied around the chairs. Gold wine goblets contrasted with the sterling silverware arranged on crisp white napkins.

“I can’t believe it’s my wedding day.” Pandora sighed, sipping her champagne. “Everything is perfect.”

Virginia wasn’t listening. Pandora followed her gaze and noticed a young man in a top hat and tails. He had fair hair and blue eyes with long eyelashes.

“Who is that? Men that good looking shouldn’t be allowed at weddings.” Virginia kept staring at him. “The married women will hide their wedding rings, and the single girls will fight each other for your bouquet.”

“I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting the bride and maid of honor,” the man said as he approached them, making a small bow. “I’m Porter Merrill. Harley and I were at boarding school together.”

At the mention of boarding school, Pandora felt a prickly sensation at the back of her neck.

“We were both in the drama department at Andover,” Porter continued. “Harley was a brilliant director; he made me believe I could act.”

“I’m sure you were hypnotic onstage,” Virginia said coyly.

“Only until I opened my mouth.” Porter smiled. His teeth were straight and white. “I could never remember my lines.”

“Pandora, I see you’ve met Porter.” Harley joined them. He seemed out of breath, as if he had rushed over to them.

“Harley, you’re interrupting,” Porter said cheekily. “I was going to tell them a story about our school days.”

Harley was about to comment when a young woman joined their group. She wore a beaded dress, and her hair was fastened by a diamond tiara. Her eyebrows were thick and dark, and she had closely set brown eyes. She wasn’t pretty; her nose was too long, but she carried herself with a certain elegance.

“This is my fiancée, Doris.” Porter introduced them. “Doris’s father is head of the Young Republican Club in New York. I’m throwing my hat into the ring for state senate.”

“You’ll be a natural.” Harley beamed, turning to Pandora and Virginia. “At Andover, Porter was vice president of the drama society.”

“Only because the other boys were too lazy, and you were already president,” Porter remarked. “Doris has promised to write my speeches. She studied English at Vassar.”

They talked about Porter and Doris’s engagement and the governor’s mansion in Albany. Eventually, Porter and Doris drifted off. Pandora was about to ask Harley to dance, but he had disappeared.

She finished her champagne and set the glass on the sideboard. Could Porter be the boy Harley had been in love with at Andover? That was impossible. Harley would never invite him to the wedding if so.

Milton approached her looking debonair in a fitted black jacket with a long swallow tail. His trousers had silk strips up the sides, and he had a white handkerchief tucked into his breast pocket.

“The bride shouldn’t be standing alone.” Milton offered her a champagne flute. “I brought you a glass of champagne.”

“No, thank you.” She shook her head, watching Porter and Doris talking to another couple. “I’ve had too much to drink already.”

“You’ve made our family very happy, Pandora,” he commented. “Harley is a lucky man.”

She pulled her eyes away from Porter. She couldn’t let him spoil the reception.

“On second thought, I am thirsty.” She turned to Milton. “I’ll have that champagne after all.”

Milton handed her the glass. The band played “I’ll See You in My Dreams.” Pandora sipped the champagne and pretended she didn’t have a care in the world. When the reception finally ended and Pandora and Harley had waved goodbye to the assembled guests, they drove to the Beekman Arms in Rhinebeck. They would spend the night there and drive three hours to Lake George in the morning.