“Is everyone waiting for me?” she asked, not certain she cared either way.
Letting out a small huff to show his annoyance, he said, “Not anymore. We’re also missing your groom. He and his family have yet to arrive here. So why don’t you get up there and be ready for him?”
There were already a few people in attendance. She glimpsed them as her father led her down the side aisle beside the pews. Unable to meet anyone’s gaze, she hesitated when her father let go of her arm. Then he took his seat again, which left her to make her way to the vicar on her own.
Wasn’t this what she did? Everything on her own? Steeling her spine, Georgiana inhaled deeply before continuing on the path set out before her.
It was a lady’s responsibility to marry. Though she wasn’t particularly pretty or clever or flirtatious, she knew that much. She had been raised with the understanding she would marry to have children and raise them properly in London. But even after a lifetime of knowing this, she was filled with trepidation.
“Oh,” Georgiana gasped when she stumbled on the step leading up to the vicar.
“Allow me,” came a deep voice she recognized too quickly for having only heard it once.
Looking up as a hand closed around her wrist, Georgiana felt her heart flutter at the sight of the Duke of Winchester. His chilly gaze bored right into her. She ignored the lurching of her stomach while he helped her move forward. It was a short distance, but she needed aid that no one else had offered.
So why did he do it? She didn’t trust the closed expression on his face. He couldn’t be helping her to be kind. He probably just didn’t want her to embarrass his cousin.
“Thank you,” she managed to say when he let go.
The bow he offered was too deep to be sincere, she decided. He waited until he had straightened. “It was my pleasure, My Lady.”
That was a lie. She forced a smile and then glanced around the room. She spotted a few familiar faces in the pews, but she wasn’t particularly close to anyone there. Her father had been right, none of her groom’s family was yet in attendance. Where could they be?
Perhaps this was a sign?
Lord Egerton didn’t want to be here anymore than she did. Turning away from the front doors, Georgiana tried to put her mind off the wedding to prepare herself for a future of loneliness.
CHAPTER6
Although Owen had wanted to offer the clearly anxious bride some words of comfort, he remembered he had nothing to offer as he straightened up.
His cousin had asked him to stand up front for the occasion. Although Owen had initially refused, not seeking to be on display for the guests, Benedict had pointed out that his father would be in the pews. So it was best that he remained up by the archbishop and the bride until his cousin arrived.
Shouldn’t she have someone here? Now Benedict isn’t here. This is ridiculous. Where could he be? We discussed arriving early, and now we are two minutes past the hour.
Owen shifted, unable to hide his irritation any longer.
It wasn’t like he even wanted to be here. His stomach had been in knots all morning. Clenching his hands into fists, he glanced at the empty entrance of the church before hearing the man to his right clear his throat.
The archbishop had owed him a favor, since Owen had found a rare plant the man desired for his garden. With the man already in London, Owen had requested he lead the wedding.
“I do hope all is well with Lord Egerton,” the archbishop murmured quietly, his meaning clear.
“I’m certain… Ah, here we are.” Owen’s voice grew tight when someone finally did arrive.
It was his aunt, the Marchioness of Carlisle.
Tall, thin Augusta Comerfield came in. She looked similar to a specter, just like she always had in his childhood. Gaunt and wrapped in pale purple and white, she was a nervous woman, always looking over her shoulder.
Now, she looked for him. Her eyes widened in relief.
That spurred him into action, moving down the steps to her side. Though her husband had been the source of his nightmares growing up, Owen had never blamed her. She wasn’t a woman of courage or skill to protect young boys from her husband. In the few times she had come to Owen’s defense, it had not gone so well. So he had asked her to stop.
“How glad I am to see you again,” she whispered when they met halfway down the aisle. Her eyes flitted over him, reminding him of a hummingbird.
Eyeing the handkerchief she twisted to bits in her hands, Owen asked quietly, “Aunt Augusta, is everyone well?”
The half-smile she’d forced faded. Bracing himself for the inevitable, he shifted as she opened her mouth. “I don’t know. I’m quite worried about Benedict.”
