The Italian's Rightful Bride - By Lucy Gordon Page 0,33

odd couple, and concentrated on the bride.

Joanna had dreaded coming to this place for a wedding, fearful of the memories it would disturb. But suddenly everything was different. She was here with Gustavo, knowing that she was the person whose company he wanted. When everyone congregated for a meal that night she went down on his arm.

Passing through the hall, she caught a glimpse of the two of them in a long mirror and was struck afresh by his good looks, his upright bearing and a certain indefinable ‘air’ that would make any woman proud to be seen on his arm.

Her own appearance too had been transformed. She was no longer the gauche girl with no confidence in her own looks or personality. Now, in her soft blue gown, with diamonds in her ears and around her neck, she had the air of a woman who could take on the world and defeat it. Above all she looked as though she belonged with this handsome man.

As they walked, he turned slightly to glance at her. But for the mirror, she would never have noticed, but she saw the reflection of his quick look, the slight smile on his lips, the hint of pride in his eyes as he regarded her.

Then they moved on out of sight of the mirror. And when she next looked at him he was staring ahead, apparently oblivious.

It was a buffet meal so that the kitchen staff could concentrate on the demands of the wedding next day. This left the guests free to wander as they liked and Joanna’s time was filled with renewing old friendships and catching up with her relatives.

Lord Rannley was particularly curious.

‘What’s going on?’ he asked. ‘You and him, here together?’

He was a charming man in his early fifties, with prematurely white hair that did nothing to mar his good looks. Joanna liked him, except that he was a little too eager to secure family advantage.

‘Tommy,’ she said now, ‘if you’re thinking what I’m thinking you’re thinking, you can forget it.’

‘So where’s his wife? I heard rumours—’

‘That’s over. They’re divorced.’

‘And now he’s here with you? Hmm!’

‘I said forget it.’

‘Really, my dear, you can’t expect me to pass up the chance of adding a prince to the family. He slipped through our fingers last time but—’

‘I’ll tread on your toes in a minute.’

He grinned and dropped the subject, but a few moments later she saw him making friendly overtures to Gustavo. She could only hope that he wouldn’t be too blatant about it.

She couldn’t help noticing that, when Lord Rannley had left him, Gustavo wasn’t at ease. The people here knew him only in connection with a past scandal, and he hated the feeling. But he’d wangled an invitation and braved the stares, simply to be with her.

‘It’s getting late,’ she said to him at last. ‘I’m going to bed.’

‘Me too,’ he said, as all around them guests were beginning to drift away.

They said their goodnights and went up the stairs together.

‘It’ll be a long day tomorrow,’ she said.

‘And perhaps a hard one.’

‘We won’t let it be,’ she promised. ‘Goodnight.’

She hugged him. He hugged her. And they went their separate ways.

In her new mood of contentment Joanna nodded off as soon as her head touched the pillow, and slept without a break until dawn.

But then she was unceremoniously awoken by someone plumping down on her bed. Hands shook her fiercely and an urgent voice said, ‘Joanna, wake up, please. Something absolutely terrible’s happened.’

‘What? What’s happened?’

Joanna struggled to awake and found Etta there, her face distraught.

‘It’s dreadful,’ she wailed.

‘What’s dreadful? What’s happened, Etta?’

‘Gina’s got flu,’ she wailed.

‘Hell!’ Joanna said, not mincing matters. Gina was the matron of honour.

‘Darling, could you do it for me, please? You’re the same size and shape, and you’ll fit into her dress.’

‘Yes—yes—all right,’ Joanna said, still half-asleep.

Etta gave her a resounding kiss. ‘Bless you. Go back to sleep.’

She vanished, leaving Joanna to fall back on her pillows, eyes already closed.

She awoke again a couple of hours later, and immediately sat up in bed.

‘Whatever did I say I’d do?’ She dialled Etta’s room on the bedside phone. ‘Etta?’

‘Yes, darling. Come right along and try your dress on. I’ve had your breakfast served here.’

Joanna hastily threw on her dressing gown and was in Etta’s room a couple of minutes later.

‘Did I imagine last night?’

‘No, poor Gina’s feverish. She’s refusing all visitors until the wedding’s safely over. Come and look at your dress.’

Joanna’s eyes widened at the sight of that dress. Etta