Richard wields the key, large, brass and polished. “So much more appealing than those fiddling little cards they all use these days. Michael has the right of it there.” Richard turns the key in the lock and pushes the door open, standing back to let us through. “Mr and Mrs Dougherty, your Bridal Suite.”
The door is perfectly standard, but it takes the three of us to muscle my dress through the frame, with its layers of petticoats. But once there…
The suite is beautiful.
Deep thick carpets…
Fresh flowers…
Champagne on ice…
Some subtle perfume in the air… Or is it simply the scent of fresh linen?
Richard gestures across the room. “The bathroom’s through there. I made sure there’s plenty of towels. Anything else you need?”
Ryan, distress in his voice, “Richard, this is wonderful. Than
