He grinned. “I promised the girls we’d have them to dinner there.”
“You like them that much?” she laughed.
“I like them so much, I think they ought to be your bridesmaids, along with Poppy, of course – and Zara if you can stand her.”
“Five bridesmaids trooping along behind a limping bride? It’d have the congregation in stitches,” Emma said. “Are you sure we have to have a big wedding?”
“I’m afraid so. My stepmother and all her friends will expect it. Penalty of being rich: you can’t just please yourself.”
“Oh well, I suppose I can survive it,” she said, and looked up at him with a smile which said she could survive anything as long as he was there with her. Then she laughed. “I’ve just thought of something.”
“What?”
“If I marry a millionaire’s son and heir—”
“Yes?”
“How will Suzanne ever be able to forgive me?”