The Italian's Rightful Bride - By Lucy Gordon Page 0,36
hide from reality. Gustavo had thought she’d spent the night with a man, and it had shattered him.
She wasn’t looking at him, but she had no doubt that he was looking at her. Such was his control that she was sure his astonishment would no longer be reflected on his face. But it would still be there in his heart. She knew that, for it was the same with her.
Suddenly, high overhead, the organ pealed out in triumph. The newly married couple returned from the vestry to begin their journey back down the aisle and out into the sunshine.
Photographs. Dozens of them in various combinations. The happy couple with his family, with her family. Lord Rannley took charge of that one, contriving to draw Gustavo in so that he was standing just behind Joanna. As everyone crowded up together it was natural for him to put his hands on her shoulders.
It was only a light touch but Joanna found it unnerving. It made her think too intensely of all the ways she wanted him to touch her.
Then the pictures were over, and the new husband and wife got into their car together and drove back to the towers. Others cars were drawing up. The bridesmaids began to pile into a large limousine, and Joanna knew she must go with them.
She turned to give Gustavo a smile of goodbye, and as she did so a sudden gust of wind threatened to snatch off her hat. Before she could save it Gustavo had reached up quickly to settle his hands on the brim, and draw it down firmly on each side of her face.
‘That’s better,’ he said, smiling into her eyes.
His hands lightly brushed her cheek, remaining there a moment, firm and gentle.
‘Yes,’ she said, breathlessly. ‘That’s better.’
She didn’t see him again until they had returned to the towers and were finding their seats in the reception. As matron of honour she was on the top table. Gustavo was within sight but not next to her. She forced herself not to look at him. She couldn’t trust herself to seem indifferent.
Speeches, toasts, all sounding much the same as before. Then the bride and groom took the floor and the dancing began.
Joanna did duty dances with the best man, the groom’s brother and a series of men whose names she didn’t know and didn’t care about.
Then the happy couple departed on their honeymoon. Etta, full of mischief, tossed her bouquet in Joanna’s direction, but Joanna was ready and stepped quickly aside.
‘You made very sure to dodge that,’ Gustavo said as they stood on the steps, waving the honeymooners off.
She hadn’t realised that he’d noticed.
‘Well, it’s silly, isn’t it?’ she said lightly. ‘It’s just a quick way of making an idiot of yourself.’
‘Is that a reference to Freddy?’
‘Why should it be?’
‘Because you caught Crystal’s bouquet, I remember. It doesn’t seem to have brought you much luck. Maybe you can’t be blamed for being cautious now.’
She took his arm as they joined the others returning to the house.
‘My marriage brought me Billy,’ she said. ‘I call that the best kind of luck. For the rest, there’s a lot to be said for being footloose and fancy-free.’
As she spoke she gave him a challenging look that discomfited him.
‘Is that aimed at me?’ he asked, taking two tall glasses from a passing waiter and giving her one. ‘I did apologise.’
‘So you ought,’ she said, teasing him over the rim with her eyes. ‘Anyway, even if I had been…what you thought…well, it’s a free country.’
‘If you’re trying to tell me that it’s none of my business what you do—’
‘Well, is it?’
‘It might be,’ he said, regarding her levelly.
She drank her champagne. It gave her time to collect her thoughts.
Outside, the light was fast fading. Inside the lights were coming on and refreshments were being served as the festivities started up again.
‘It’s been a strange day,’ he said, drawing her over to the window, where they could have a little privacy.
‘Yes,’ she said, not pretending that she didn’t understand his meaning.
‘The wedding being in the same place—well, memories. Even poor Gina—’
‘You mean me being matron of honour?’
‘No, her getting flu and missing the wedding. That nearly happened to you. Remember how you got caught in the rain the night before, and we met in the corridor? You looked so wet and bedraggled I was worried about you.’
‘Wet and bedraggled,’ she mused. ‘Yes, I was that all right. Inside and out.’
‘What?’
‘Nothing. I do remember, but I’m surprised that you do.’
‘You