The Italian's Rightful Bride - By Lucy Gordon Page 0,35

women in the room.

‘Joanna, thank goodness you’re still here. I’d like you to— Oh, hello.’ She’d just seen Gustavo, and pulled the edges of her dressing gown together.

‘Joanna’s helping us out,’ she explained. ‘She’s going to be my matron of honour instead of Gina, who has flu. Have you managed to explain to him yet, Jo?’

‘I haven’t had the chance,’ Joanna said through quivering lips. ‘Gustavo, I was going to find you and say there’s been a change of plan. I’ll be on duty with the bride.’

‘Thank you for telling me,’ he said stiffly.

Etta’s eyes were like saucers as she looked from one to the other then made a tactful withdrawal.

Gustavo’s face was tense and embarrassed, reminding Joanna of just how miserably uptight he could be, and how he, more than anyone, suffered for it. He was the last man in the world who could cope with this situation.

‘How could you?’ she said, amused and reproachful together.

‘I apologise for—for—’

‘Oh, shut up!’ she said tenderly. ‘I’ll see you in the church.’

With one hand she touched his face while her lips just brushed against his other cheek. Then she slipped away without looking back.

CHAPTER EIGHT

THE wedding was held in the great church in the nearby town of Rannley Hayes. From ten o’clock a stream of cars began to leave the towers, and Joanna’s sense of life playing back increased.

The last time she’d been to a wedding here she’d watched those same cars driving away, knowing that soon one of them would hold Crystal, glorious in bridal white, on her way to become Gustavo’s wife.

She couldn’t recall the weather then, but today the sun shone down with a glorious light as she got out of the car with Etta, helped to straighten her dress, then handed her the bouquet.

Then it was time to enter the church, where, since Etta’s father was dead, Lord Rannley was waiting to give the bride away. The organ struck up the wedding march and they began the long walk down the aisle.

As matron of honour she led the attendants, walking down the aisle just behind the bride. Now and then she glanced to her right, trying to see where Gustavo was sitting, but there was no sign of him until the last minute.

There he was, near the front, in the second row, at the end of the pew, close to her. He turned as she approached, and Joanna was startled by what she saw in his face.

He looked stupefied, like a man who’d been struck by a thunderbolt, trying to gather his senses and failing.

She knew that for him too this moment brought back memories. Twelve years ago he’d stood in almost this spot and watched his bride approach. Now his eyes were fixed on herself, and she thought she detected a question in them.

But she couldn’t spare the time to wonder now what that question might mean. Etta had come to a halt, and she must take her bouquet of white roses, then step back into her position while the groom moved into place, and the service began.

‘Dearly beloved, we are gathered here…’

Gustavo heard the words, the same ones that had been intoned over himself and Crystal. They seemed to come from a great distance.

He was only aware of Joanna, standing close to him, glorious in ivory satin and lace, her head adorned by the elegant organdie hat with its tiny pink rosebuds.

She looked like a bride herself, he thought. And so she would have been but for his blind stupidity. He’d been happy that day, but how soon that happiness had faded in the face of reality!

Was she too remembering, and wondering about how different things might have been?

He kept his eyes fixed on her, willing her to look at him, but she seemed lost in some inner dream. He longed to be able to follow her there, to beg her to share her thoughts with him, and perhaps also her feelings.

Too late. Much too late.

Dumbstruck by the terrible moment of illumination that had come to him, he listened to the vows of fidelity, remembering how they had come to sound like a cruel joke. As they would not have done with Joanna.

There was a lull as the bride and groom went into the vestry to sign the register, while the organist played a cheerful tune.

Joanna’s head was in a whirl. Too much had happened at once. She’d seen the funny side of this morning’s incident, but she wondered now if she’d merely been trying to