In the span of three days, the Halmiton mansion had transformed into a buzzing arena.
The enemy was the calendar. The objective was the wedding of the year.
The main hallway was filled with people Ines did not know. There were florists carrying massive bundles of white lilies that smelled so strong they made Ines sneeze. There were caterers arguing about the difference between a puff pastry and a tartlet. There were men measuring the doorframes to ensure the extra-wide tables for the reception could fit through.
Ines sat in the corner of the drawing room, pressing her fingertips to her temples. She was exhausted. Her bones felt heavy, and her head was spinning with questions she didn't know the answers to.
Blue napkins or white?
Chicken or fish?
Violins or a harp?
She just wanted to marry Carcel. She didn't care if they ate bread and cheese in a barn, as long as she was his wife. But society demanded a spectacle, and the Hamilton family was determined to give them one.
