Page 40 of The Last Casterglass

Violet raised her thin, pencilled eyebrows. “Don’t you? I assumed you were spending it with my daughter.”

“Why would you assume that?” Oliver asked dumbly.

“Because she’s alone and so are you.” Violet shook her head slowly. “If you think I am the sort of person who has any interest in going on a cruise for over-sixties, then you are quite mistaken. I have never played bingo in my life, and I do not intend to start.”

Wait, they’dplannedit? They’d left Seph on her own in the hope that he’d, what, takepityon her? “But how did you know I’d be alone, too?” he asked.

Violet’s expression turned gentle as she gave him a smile touched with pity. “Dear Oliver,” she said, “it’s written all over you.”

Stung, Oliver could only blink. Did he come across that much as a loner? Pathetic, even? Jeez, Violet knew how to deliver a zinger. “I was supposed to go back to Pembury Farm,” he said, and Violet just smiled and shook her head.

“Now come along,” she told him, reaching for his elbows and steering him out of the room as if he were about six. “For the photos. And the ceremony, of course.”

Everyone was assembled downstairs in the great hall, which had been bedecked with swathes of mistletoe, holly, and winter roses, as well as dozens of poinsettias. Instinctively, without even realising he was doing it, he searched for Seph—and found her, standing by Olivia, looking…well, enchanting was one word. Stunning was another. He gaped at her before he remembered to close his mouth, and then he tried to affect an expression that was not quite so gormless.

She was wearing a dress in forest-green velvet that skimmed her slender body and swirled about her ankles. Her hair was in its usual ringlets, with a crown of white roses. She carried a matching posy of roses, and she looked like something out of Shakespeare or Jane Austen or even a fairy tale, ethereal and lovely and just, well, perfect.

“All right, everyone together!” the photographer called out, and everyone jostled for position. Oliver tried to move closer to Seph, but found himself steered towards the back, where he stood next to Will.

“She looks beautiful, doesn’t she?” he whispered, and then winked.

Okay, did everyone know he had a thing for Seph? It seemed so, and that made Oliver feel very…exposed. Especially since Seph had been avoiding him for three days. Then he remembered what he’d planned and recklessly thought screw it. He didn’t care if he seemed exposed, or if everyone knew. He was going to tell Seph how he felt. He was going to ask her to spend Christmas with him. If it wasn’t coming as a surprise to her family, perhaps it wouldn’t to her, either.

*

The church lookedlovely, its pews swathed in holly and roses, candles twinkling and shimmering everywhere. Nerves fluttered in Seph’s stomach as she stood at the top of the aisle, about to process down after Olivia, to the lovely strains of Pachelbel’s “Canon.” There were only about thirty people in the congregation, which made it easy to spot Oliver. He was on the bride’s side, the third row from the front, trying to meet her gaze but she was doing her best not to look at him.

All right, she was a coward. She knew that. After feeling so happy and confident and free, her newly minted self had collapsed into uncertainty, all from Oliver’s single lukewarm response.I could, he’d said, like he was thinking of ten other things he’d rather do, and the people he’d rather do them with.

Maybe it was unreasonable, to let a single moment affect her so much, but the changes she’d been making were so recent and raw, they couldn’t bear the weight of her crisis in self-confidence, as she’d quickly discovered. And Oliver hadn’t exactly tried to make up for that moment, had he? He hadn’t broached the subject of Christmas again, which had confirmed her unhappy suspicions that he didn’t want to spend the holiday with her.

Which was fine, she told herself, uselessly, over and over again. They could still be friends. Spending Christmas together had been a step too far; that was all. If she had more confidence, she would have said something of this to him—laughed it off, told him he didn’t need to panic, he could do what he liked. She could have acted indifferent, the way she used to, that trusty armour of self-protection that was defeating her now, because once she’d disassembled it, she struggled to know how to put it back on.

“Seph…go!” Rose nudged her in the back, and she took a slightly stumbling step down the aisle before thankfully righting herself and continuing on, chin up, eyes straight ahead.Don’t look at Oliver…don’t look…

She didn’t.

*

The ceremony was,of course, beautiful. John and Althea looked perfect together, the four children between them all beaming, the guests smiling or becoming teary-eyed or both. The rain drumming on the roof only added to the beauty somehow. Nothing could spoil their day, Seph thought as Althea and John began the exchange of rings, not when they were so clearly in love with each other.

“I give you this ring,” John said to Althea, his voice hoarse with emotion as he slid the ring on his bride’s finger. “As a symbol of my vow, and with all that I am and all that I have I honour you…”

All right, now Seph was feeling a bit emotional. A lump was forming in her throat, an ache of happiness for her sister and longing for herself. She wanted those words, she thought. She wanted someone to feel that strongly about her, to love and cherish and honour her, to make promises meant to last for the rest of their lives…

Without even realising she was doing so, she turned to look at Oliver—and discovered, with a startled jolt, that he was looking right at her. His hazel eyes blazed gold and green as he looked at her and she looked back, and for a few seconds everything and everyone else faded away, and it was just the two of them, and their locked gazes.

Then Oliver offered a smile—tentative, shy, tender. Her lips trembling, Seph smiled back.

“I now declare you husband and wife.”

The congregation erupted in cheers as John took the opportunity to give his wife a hearty kiss. Startled, Seph broke Oliver’s gaze and did her best to smile and clap, even as everything in her wondered and reeled.

Had she been imagining the intensity of that look? Longing for it, because of how she’d been feeling? She had no idea, and she was afraid to try to find out.

In any case, there was no opportunity to talk to Oliver in the crush after the service, and then the logistics of getting everyone back to the castle in the pouring rain. By the time Seph had made it in the back of Will’s Land Rover, slightly damp and crumpled, the party was in full swing, and she couldn’t see Oliver anywhere, which maybe was just as well.

She got herself a glass of champagne and skirted the great hall, smiling and nodding at those she passed without engaging too much, which was easy enough, although it left her feeling restless. Everyone would be leaving in a few days, and she would be knocking about this castle, entirely alone. She had no idea where Oliver would go, wasn’t brave enough to ask—

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