Page 7

Well, it would do.

“I’m ready,” she said firmly. “It’s time to go, Mama.”

As anticipated, the church was full.

Anna had arrived a little early, and she peered through the narrow crack between the doors. Almost every pew was full, with a few spaces left for her family and Henry’s.

If Henry’s familydidarrive, of course. Frankly, Anna doubted it.

Just a few more minutes,she told herself, letting out a long, slow breath.Then I’ll be married, and I’ll be safe. We’ll all be safe.

“We should go inside,” she said firmly.

Octavia shot her a look. “Lord Henry isn’t here.”

“You’ll have to stop calling himLordHenry once he’s your son-in-law.”

Octavia pressed her lips together. “Let’s wait out here until he arrives. Girls, go inside and wait.”

Daphne and Emily, perhaps sensing the rising tension, exchanged a look and hurried inside. When the door opened further, the sound of whispers and chatter drifted out. A few people glanced their way, spotting Anna.

She sighed. “Look, people have already noticed us, Mama. We’d better go in.”

“We should wait for Lord Henry to get here. Where is his best man? Is it his brother?”

Anna cleared her throat, avoiding her mother’s gaze. “No, his art tutor. His name is George, and he’s a dear friend of Henry’s. You know what a dandy Henry is—he’s probably spending extra time on his hair. I’m going in.”

Without giving her mother time to object, Anna shoved open the doors and strode purposefully down the aisle. Eyes bored into her, and there were murmurings and mutterings from all sides. Her cheeks began to burn, and she wondered if this was a good idea, after all.

Generally, weddings were straightforward. The bride walked down the aisle to her groom. Simple. The groom arrived first, to be ready to meet her.

I amearly though,Anna silently mused, smiling tightly at the priest waiting at the altar.Five minutes early. Well, three. Henry’s late to everything.

The priest cleared his throat, before leaning towards her and dropping his voice. “Is everything alright, Miss Belmont?”

“Of course,” Anna responded evenly. “He’s just late, you know. The groom.”

The man nodded, smiling so sympathetically that Anna wanted to hit him. Not wanting to stay standing at the altar, she threw herself down onto the empty front pew. The girls were already sitting on the other end, whispering to each other. Octavia sailed down the aisle and sat beside them, and the whispering stopped.

The was a heavy clock hanging on the wall adjacent to the altar. Anna found her eyes drawn to it, again and again.

And again.

Five minutes (three!) ticked by. It was exactly ten o’clock, the arranged hour of the wedding. The door creaked open, and Anna leaped to her feet, only to find herself looking at a shamefaced latecomer scurrying to an empty seat.

Pitying stares were directed at her from the crowd. Beatrice was among them, visibly confused. Anna didn’t meet her eyes. Or anybody’s eyes. She sat back down in the front pew. Her hands tightened on the bouquet until a thorn pricked her fingertip,causing a flash of pain. A smear of blood stained the white fabric. Cursing under her breath, she arranged her bouquet to hide it.

Five minutes past.

Ten minutes past.

A quarter past the hour.

It was impossible to ignore the whispers from the crowd now. Sitting in the front pew, Anna could feel the eyes of everybody in the church—the priest included—boring into her.

“Shall I send Daphne out to see if he’s being held up?” Octavia whispered.

Anna said nothing, only nodded. Her mother made a series of sharp gestures, and Daphne hurried down the aisle, disappearing outside.