Page 1

London

Miss Laurel Harwood studied her reflection in one of the tall windows of the vestibule of St. Agatha's Cathedral.

Giving herself an honest assessment, Laurel determined her cheeks were pale, her eyes were sunken from lack of sleep and her hair, as ever, was a haphazard mass of orange curls which refused to cooperate with brush or comb.

Even scissors shied away from the copper-toned tresses.

The one bright spot in her hazy reflection was the gown she wore.

A heavenly concoction of silk, lace and muslin, it was, she thought with some humility, her grandest design to date. Fitted to perfectly accentuate her graceful neck and slender arms, the fabric fell in a long cascade befitting a queen.

For the first time that day, Laurel smiled.

"Your dress is utterly divine." Miss Cassidy Primrose, Laurel's dear friend, came to stand next to her. "I knew you would be a beautiful bride, but your gown will be the envy of every woman who sees it, including me."

"Thank you," Laurel said, twisting from side to side, watching her skirt swirl. "I hoped it would turn out well, but it is even better than I had expected."

At least one thing on this day would exceed expectations.

The weather had refused to cooperate. It was only by the very best of timing and luck that Laurel and Cassie were able to get into the church before the skies opened up and began dumping rain.

She wondered if the weather might deter some of their guests.

Or her groom.

Cassie mimicked Laurel's twisting movements, smiling at the way her gown floated from side to side. "But I think they will envy me as well. Honestly, how do you do it? It is uncanny the way you are able to know the right colors and fabrics to make a lady beautiful."

Laurel gazed at her friend, grateful for her support and company on this stressful morning.

"When I was a child, my nanny dressed me in the most awful clothes.

As if going about with hair the color of a hot poker was not distressing enough, she selected ill-fitting frocks in the most hideous colors.

When I complained, she slapped my face and told me I needed to learn humility.

She said the desire for pretty clothes was a sign of the devil, just like the color of my hair. "

Cassie gasped. "No. You must be joking."

Laurel gave her friend a weak smile. "I wish I was, but I am not. I promised myself that as soon as she was gone from my life, I would create my own clothes of the prettiest fabrics I could find. Fortunately, the nanny also believed stitching samplers was the proper punishment for my high spirits."

"Little did she know she was training you for your true calling.

" Cassie continued to admire the gown Laurel had created for her.

Realizing what she'd said, she stopped gazing at her reflection and turned to Laurel.

"Of course, your true calling, as it is for any proper young lady, is to marry well and have a family.

Which you are about to do." Cassie smiled broadly. "Lord Onslow is extremely handsome."

Laurel's stomach tightened at the mention of her soon-to-be husband.

"Laurel? Are you unwell? Wedding day nerves?" Cassie gazed at her with concern. "You suddenly look as though you might be ill."

"Yes, yes," she said, mustering a smile to mask her trepidation. "I am fine. As you said, simply wedding day nerves."

Cassie was her dearest friend in the entire world and Laurel had no reason not to trust her, but the die had been cast and there was no point in ruminating on her true feelings: despite all appearances to the contrary, she did not wish to marry Lord Gerald Onslow, no matter how handsome, rich or seemingly charming the gentleman was believed to be.

Though she could not put it into words and she had no specific incidents to cite, the prospect of being the wife of Lord Gerald Onslow filled Laurel with dread.

When she had told her stepbrother Richard Bernard of her concerns, he had exploded in a fit of temper, reminding her of all he had done to provide for her since the death of her mother and stepfather (Richard’s father) as well as the importance of an alliance between himself and Laurel's future father-in-law, Lord Merle Onslow, the Earl of Caverleigh.

"Alliance?" she’d said, finally letting loose the contempt she felt for the man who had been born to her stepfather and his first wife, who had died when Richard was about twelve years of age.

Laurel’s father had died before she even had a chance to know him.

Her mother had remarried shortly afterward and her stepfather, Sanders Bernard, had been the only father she had ever known.

By the time they married, Richard, her stepbrother, was off at university.

Rather than a doting older brother, he had tormented and terrorized Laurel for as long as she could remember.

"More like you are using me to pay off a debt." She’d stood her ground and held his gaze. She had little power in this situation but she refused to simply give in to her stepbrother’s demands.

Laurel’s mother and stepfather had a loving marriage, though it was brief. Despite their age difference, Laurel’s young mother had not outlived her aging husband, who had done all he could to provide for Laurel, though she was not of his flesh.

Sadly, he too passed away before she had attained adulthood, leaving her to the guardianship and whims of her contemptible elder stepbrother, who had inherited his father’s estate. He seemed to think of her as a piece of furniture or artwork which he had inherited as well.

If the rumors were true, and Laurel had no reason to think they were not, Richard had gambled away much of what her stepfather had worked so hard to safeguard for future generations.

Richard was not keen on being called out by his stepsister, whom he considered to be far beneath him in every regard. "I have arranged a marriage for you that is most advantageous. If anything, you ought to thank me. Onslow says he does not even mind your orange hair."

"How magnanimous," Laurel had replied. "Regardless of his great generosity of spirit, I will not marry him and you cannot make me."

Even now, Laurel’s stomach knotted up as she recalled the way Richard’s mouth had curved into a sadistic smile. "Yes, actually, I can. You are my ward. The marriage contract has been signed."

She had made a single desperate attempt to gain her freedom. One night she had snuck from the house, determined to travel to Paris. Surely the English Channel would be enough distance to keep her from the clutches of Richard and Lord Onslow.

However, she had not counted on her ne’er-do-well stepbrother actually returning from a gaming hell at the same time she was sneaking out the front door.

The date for the marriage had been moved up a fortnight as a result.

And thus, Laurel found herself standing in the vestibule of a church waiting for her despicable stepbrother to arrive and escort her down the aisle to meet her fate. Perhaps the torrents of rain would slow him and prevent this event from taking place.

No amount of silk and lace could cover the sense of foreboding pitting her stomach.

When the door to their waiting area opened Laurel assumed it was Richard, finally arriving to escort her to her doom.

Instead, Lady Katherine Winchester, Cassie’s godmother, strode into the room looking stunning as always. Though rain hammered down from the skies, Lady Katherine was fresh and dry. As though rain would have the temerity to dampen her hair or hat.

"My dear Laurel," she said, taking both of Laurel’s hands in her own. "You are absolutely the most beautiful bride I have ever seen." Lady Katherine stood back and examined Laurel’s wedding dress from all angles. "Your gown is magnificent."

Laurel blushed under the praise of Lady Katherine Winchester, known to be one of the ton’s most fashionable ladies. "You are too kind," she murmured.

"Nonsense," Lady Katherine said. "I speak nothing but the truth." Then she turned to Cassie and gave her an affectionate smile that made Laurel’s heart twinge with jealousy. "You are also stunning, my dear."

"Thank you, Lady Katherine," Cassie said. "I am becoming quite accomplished at being a bridesmaid."

Lady Katherine patted Cassie’s cheek. "Do not lose heart, my dear. Soon you will be a happy bride just like Laurel."

Laurel felt like a fraud as she put on a brave smile in response to Lady Katherine’s pronouncement. But she was not as good at hiding her feelings as she thought because Lady Katherine’s sharp-eyed gaze fell upon her.

"Is there something amiss, Laurel?" Lady Katherine asked, her voice soft with concern.

If only Laurel could pour out all of her worries and fears to Lady Katherine. If anyone could give her good advice, it would be Lady Katherine Winchester.

But it was far too late to change the path of fate and airing out her concerns would only make matters worse.

"I am sure it is simply bridal nerves," she replied. "And I am wondering what is keeping my stepbrother from being here. He promised he would be on time."

Lady Katherine’s expression relaxed a bit though she continued to study Laurel. "Of course, that is only to be expected. A wedding is one of the most significant events in a woman’s life. It sets the tone for her entire future."

Laurel wondered if she might be ill.

The door burst open and her stepbrother, Richard Bernard, hurried into the room, brushing rain from his coat in the process and leaving a trail of wet footprints on the marble floor.

"Well, I shall be on my way," Lady Katherine said, making her exit without acknowledging Richard’s arrival. "It is time for you to get married."

Laurel's stepbrother did not comment on her appearance or even greet her. "Come along, Laurel. You do not want to keep Lord Onslow waiting. I’d hate for him to change his mind."