An excellent word! I used it with pleasure in The Laird Takes a Bride, and in one of my very favorite bits in the whole book.
In this passage, my heroine Fiona Douglass is attending her 71st wedding, and thinking about some of her experiences as an observer. Here’s one of them:
Seven years ago, old Mrs. Gibbs, aged ninety-eight and heartily disliked by nearly everyone in the entire clan, had loudly expired just before the vows were spoken. The general agreement was that she’d done it deliberately in a last triumphant bid for attention, and that she was likely chuckling up in heaven (or down below in the other place) because afterwards, as her corpse was being removed, her pet ferret had crawled out from a pocket in her skirt and dashed up the towering headdress of a haughty dowager from Glasgow, from which vantage point it had leaped gracefully onto the shoulder of Fiona’s own mother, who had screamed and then fainted, sending the bride into hysterics and several small boys into paroxysms of noisy laughter, thereby provoking Fiona’s father, the mighty chieftain of clan Douglass, into a fury so awful that the wedding was quietly called off and no one dared to partake of the gargantuan feast laid out in the Great Hall, resulting, of course, in a great deal of secret rejoicing in the servants’ hall for at least three days after that. The ferret was never seen again.
This snippet appears in the first chapter of The Laird Takes a Bride. Would you like to read the entire chapter? Click here. And to see some of the nice things people have been saying about it, click here.