Page 27 of The Viscount's Diamond Bride
Jonathan snorted, glancing over his shoulder to look at the assembled congregation behind. As expected, the church was full to bursting. The wedding breakfast was going to be a small and intimate affair, with only a few close friends and relatives invited. This meant that most of the congregation werenotinvited and were simply here to gawp and collect scandal.
The gossip columns had had a good deal to say about the matrimony, of course. Graham had been determined to read them all, if only to know what the world was saying about him. It was Jonathan who pointed out the folly of such a course and insisted upon reading them himself.
“If there is anything you ought to know,” he’d said firmly, “I shall relay it to you.”
Graham had relented in the end. He couldn’t imagine that the gossip columns were complimentary. They’d all but branded Ursula as a hussy, and himself as a rake. Sir Roderick, miraculously, had been forgotten, even though it was his presence unconscious or not which had irrevocably destroyed Ursula’s reputation.
Heels clacked on the stone floor behind him, and Graham glanced around reflexively, and met his mother’s eyes.
He wasn’t sure whether he felt relieved or anxious. Part of him had assumed that his mother would not attend the wedding. Her scores of angry letters had certainly said as much.
But no, here she was, head held high, striding down the aisle with her chin perpendicular to the ground. She glanced at him, briefly, then her gaze slid away.
She was wearing her best clothes, and that seemed to be a good sign. A sign that she was celebrating, perhaps?
She must have come to terms with it all,he thought.She will have to, sooner or later.
Tearing her gaze away from his, Margaret turned sharply, shuffling along to the front pew and taking her seat. She sat very straight, not leaning back at all, and stared rigidly ahead of herself.
Ursula’s cousin, Georgiana, arrived next, flanked by her parents. They were dressed very well, as if they were going to a ball rather than a wedding, and Miss Worth’s gaze swivelled here and there, taking in every detail. Was it his imagination, or did he see a flicker of discontent on her face? That seemed odd to Graham. While this matrimony was not what Ursula had chosen for herself, he would be a much better husband than, say, Sir Roderick. Besides, this way, Ursula would not be ruined.
Unfortunately her reputation had been irrevocably smeared but at least being his wife, a viscountess could allow her to lead a life without the persecution of society.
The Worths seemed annoyed to find the front pew taken and plumped down with discontented pouts directly behind Margaret. Graham noticed another young woman enter, notably alone, which was unusual for such a function, especially since he was sure she wasn't wedded. He didn't recognize her, but she gave him a long, hard stare, as if she were keenly appraising him.
“That is Miss Charlotte Winter,” Jonathan whispered beside him. “She is Lady Ursula’s closest friend.”
It was odd for Jonathan to make an introduction like that. Glancing down at his friend, Graham was about to ask where Jonathanhad made her acquaintance. He paused when he saw the strange, nervous look in his friend’s eye. Miss Winter’ gaze slid sideways at that moment, locking eyes with Jonathan. A flush spread across her cheeks and she hastily turned away, shuffling into a pew beside the Worths.
Graham pursed his lips and hid a smile.
How remarkably intriguing.
“You’ll have to introduce me to her,” Graham responded coolly, and was gratified to see his friend blush.
There was no more time for quips or comments, because at that moment a whisper ran through the room, followed by an expectant hush, hailing the arrival of the bride.
The nerves in Graham’s stomach tightened subconsciously. He swallowed hard, glancing at first at Jonathan and then at his mother for reassurance. His mother’s face, of course, was blank, but Jonathan gave him an encouraging smile.
The doors opened, and Graham tensed… only to find himself staring at Lady Farendale asshemarched down the aisle. She was tight-lipped and thoroughly disapproving and did not even look at Graham. There was a ripple of laughter, since the rest of the congregation had also expected the bride.
A moment’s silence followed, then there was a general sort of hush once more. The doors parted and there, at last, was the bride.
Ursula was very pale, swathed in pale purple silk, her gown crinkling and twisting around her as she walked. Her father’s expression was grim as he escorted his daughter down the aisle.
She looked beautiful, of course. Ursulawasa beautiful woman and probably would have looked striking even in a dress made from a sack. As he watched her approach, Graham was conscious of a prickling of desire in his gut, awantingthat was all too familiar.
The last woman to move him so strongly, of course, was Jane. Almost angrily, he put Jane from his mind and kept his thoughts entirely empty as he watched his bride approach.
At the top of the aisle, Lord Farendale released his daughter’s arm. He did not look at her, or offer a smile or kiss on the cheek, like other fathers at other weddings. Instead, he dropped her arm abruptly, brushing off his sleeve almost absently, and took his place beside his wife.
That was that, then. There was nothing more to wait for. Swallowing, Graham met Ursula’s gaze. It was a shock to see real fear in her gaze. She hid it quickly, flashing a brief smile. He returned the smile, but it felt forced.
It’s not as if either of us would be well served by ending this betrothal. I suppose it’s too late for all that, anyway.
The rector cleared this throat pointedly, and both Graham and Ursula hastily turned to face him. He cleared his throat again, this time in preparation for his sermon.
“Dearly beloved,” he began, voice echoing around the silent church.
