At least I had Alaric by my side. I’d missed him more than I had a right to after he left Kentucky. But he’d had to go to Boston, and by coming through with the reward money for Red After Dark, he’d staved off Lone Oak Farm’s creditors for the immediate future. Harriet was still hurting, but the day before I left, I’d accidentally walked in on her in Stéphane’s arms. Cue red faces all around. But I was happy for them, and I knew then that she’d be okay.
Gemma seemed to have come through her ordeal remarkably well too, even if she hadn’t slept at my flat once. I very much suspected she hadn’t been at home either. Last night, Alaric and I had gone to Curzon Place for dinner with her, Judd, and Nada, and the three of them seemed quite at ease in the kitchen together. Enough that I’d had a whispered “What the heck?” conversation with Alaric and he’d taken Judd aside to ask what he was playing at. Judd swore nothing was going on. That he wouldn’t dare to touch either of the girls, not in that way, but they seemed happy and he had spare rooms, so why not let them stay for a while? I had to admit he did seem to walk on eggshells around Nada. And Gemma was smiling a lot, which was certainly better than crying. Even baby Indy seemed to like him. Alaric had done a double take when Judd sat her on his lap.
“I’ve heard of the bride being fashionably late, but half an hour?” Alaric whispered.
“Par for the course.”
This was Priscilla. She’d been late for her own birth, and things had only gotten worse since then. She was probably berating her hairdresser or something.
Alaric’s arm tightened around my waist as Piers approached with Andromeda in tow. She must have misread the invitation—this was the wedding, not the hen party. Her hot-pink dress was at least six inches shorter than anyone else’s, and her make-up was so overdone I had to squint to check she hadn’t glued leopard moth caterpillars to her eyelids. I’d gone for pastel florals in an attempt to fade into the background, but Alaric had scuppered that plan slightly by gifting me a beautiful pair of shoes. Cream patent stilettos with pale pink ribbon woven around the top—far too expensive, but he said I deserved them after the trip to Kentucky.
“Surprised to see you here, Bethie,” Piers said.
“Why? Priscilla’s my sister.”
“But you don’t have much in common, do you?”
“I’m still expected to be here. I’m surprised you showed your face after the way you acted towards me.”
“Now now, Bethie, no need to be hostile. You know Priscilla and Andromeda are friends. And I’m going into business with your father. We’re going to open a new dental clinic. He’s providing the property, and I’ll manage the place.”
“Good for you.”
Piers looked Alaric up and down. “So, this is the boyfriend?”
“I thought we made that quite obvious when we saw you at Daddy’s birthday party.”
He leaned in closer, and yes, he’d been drinking already. “After the performance you put on, we all assumed you’d hired the man. I mean, who would do that sort of thing without being paid? And everyone knows he’s fallen on hard times.”
We assumed? Had Piers spread a rumour that I’d hired a freaking escort? Was that why people kept staring at me? The pig!
“No, Piers, hiring people for services is your bag, not mine.”
Alaric pulled me closer to his side. “Buddy, if anyone’s paying, it should be me.”
He meant it as a joke, but his words left me cold as bad memories came bubbling to the surface. I backed away, trying to block out Piers’s chortling. How had I ever married that man?
“Can we just go somewhere else?” I muttered. Like, say, the Scottish Highlands or the wilds of Mongolia.
“Beth, are you—”
Murmurs spread through the crowd as a Rolls-Royce drew up. Oh, perfect timing for once. Priscilla was here.
The ceremony was predictably over the top. A classically trained choir, half an orchestra, plus it turned out Krys Baxter-Ragsdale was allergic to the five thousand roses Priscilla had stuffed into the church, and she couldn’t stop sneezing. Mother had given Krys dirty looks the whole way through, and I had a feeling the Baxter-Ragsdales would find themselves disinvited from any future gatherings.
“Thank heavens that’s over,” I muttered to Alaric as we exited the church. One advantage of sitting at the back was that we could get out first.
“You’re not the only one who thinks so. Did you see the outline of a hip flask in the vicar’s pocket?”
“No, really?”
“I almost asked if I could take a swig. Do women honestly like this stuff?”
“My wedding was awful. I wanted a small affair with close friends and family, but Piers insisted bigger was better, and by the time our mothers got involved, we had six hundred guests, photos in Hello! magazine, and a reception sponsored by Taittinger.”
“There are some situations where bigger is better, but I’d agree that a wedding isn’t one of them. What time does Priscilla’s reception start?”
“Four o’clock. She wanted time to take photos and change her outfit and get her hair and make-up redone first.”
“Are you okay to walk there in those shoes? Or do you want me to call a cab?”
“It’s only five minutes away, and I’ve had plenty of practice.”
Alaric offered me his arm, and we joined the throng trekking along the lane to my parents’ estate. Sadly, there wasn’t a handy pub we could nip into, and with the amount of rain we’d had yesterday, I couldn’t hide along a footpath either, not unless I wanted to ruin my new shoes. And I loved those shoes.
A friend of my mother’s fell into step beside us as we walked, and I was forced to explain my absence from the country club. From her incredulous harrumph, it seemed that having
