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This was the scandal of the year, and not one of Isabella’s friends would rest until they knew what had really happened behind the scenes today.
Isabella. Helena sneaked a sideways look at the front pew as she promised to be true, to love and honour and all the rest of that stuff. Flynn and Zeke’s mother sat with a fixed smile on her face, hands clasped around a handkerchief in her lap, the wide brim of her hat shading her eyes. Helena would bet that if she could see any tears in them, they wouldn’t be tears of joy.
Explaining this mess to Flynn’s parents was not going to be fun. Maybe she’d leave that to him. Refine the art of wifely delegating early.
Her vows done, the priest picked up the baton again. ‘What God has joined, man must not divide,’ he intoned.
Gosh, that sounded formal. Binding.
Final.
Well, what did he know? He’d happily married the wrong couple without batting an eyelid. There was a pretty strong chance that none of this was even legal. It would be fine.
‘Do you have the rings?’ the priest asked, and Helena’s eyes widened. Did they? What had even happened to them?
But Flynn reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a ring box, flipping open the lid to reveal two shiny platinum rings. Helena knew those rings, had helped choose those rings.
She also knew there was a good chance that the ring Flynn was about to try and put on her finger wouldn’t fit.
As the priest blessed the rings, Helena tried to convey this information to her new husband using only her eyes and eyebrows. Anything else would signal to their audience that there was a problem.
Flynn’s forehead furrowed in confusion and Helena resigned herself to losing the outer layer of skin on her ring finger.
‘Helena, take this ring as a sign of my love and fidelity.’ Flynn took her left hand solemnly and Helena braced herself as the cold metal touched the tip of her finger. ‘In the name of the Father, and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.’
Flynn eased the ring down to her knuckle, where it promptly got stuck. His gaze flashed to hers and she gave him what she hoped was an imperceptible shake of the head.
He understood, thank goodness. His fingers moved down to the base of her finger, but the ring stayed jammed where it was. With a sunny smile, Helena withdrew her hand and hid it in the folds of her dress. She’d ease it further on later, if she could. Otherwise she’d sneak up to her room and find some other ring to serve for the time being.
Flynn’s ring slipped on with no problems, of course, since he was actually supposed to be there getting married today. And suddenly the priest was pronouncing them husband and wife and it was all over. Helena blinked out at the applauding crowd and felt grateful that the line ‘You may now kiss the bride’ seemed to appear more often in movies than at actual weddings.
She was married now. And she did realise that the chances were she’d have to kiss her husband, sooner or later.
It was just that she was voting for later. When her emotions and thoughts weren’t spinning like a tornado. When she could sit quietly for a moment and figure all this out, and think about what would happen next.
When she’d had time to prepare herself.
With her hand tucked into the crook of Flynn’s elbow, hiding the ill-fitting wedding ring, Helena walked back up the aisle she’d walked down as a single woman. As Helena Morrison.
Now she was Helena Ashton.
She was pretty sure she would never get used to that.
Helena fought to keep her expression bright and happy, tilting her head to brush against Flynn’s shoulder as they walked.
‘Nearly there,’ he murmured as they approached the back of the church. ‘Almost over.’
Except it wasn’t. Not even a little bit.
The Tuscan sunlight stung her eyes and her skin as they emerged from the cool shade of the chapel. They only had a few moments before everyone else followed, so Helena ripped her hand from Flynn’s arm and began to twist Thea’s wedding ring over her knuckle. If only she had some hand cream in her bag. Or even her bag.
Brides travelled light, it seemed.
With a pop, the ring slid past the knuckle and into place, and Helena exhaled with relief. One problem down, who knew how many more to go.
As the guests emerged, Helena plastered her best social smile back on to her face. Which, as the first person out was Ezekiel Ashton, was a bit of a waste.
‘What, exactly—?’ the old man started, only to be cut off by his wife.
‘Not here,’ Isabella said, her voice quiet but sharp. Helena had no doubt that there would be long discussions about what had occurred that day, but Isabella wouldn’t have them happening in front of the guests. ‘We have the photos to get through.’
‘Forget the photos,’ Ezekiel said. ‘What do we need photos for?’
‘The papers, apart from anything else,’ Isabella answered promptly. ‘This is still the wedding of the season, regardless of who actually got married.’ Her voice dropped low for the last half of the sentence and Helena winced.
Photos. Helena’s smile slipped at the thought until Isabella glared at her and she forced it back into place. Where apparently it would stay for the next hour or more, while the semi-famous photographer Isabella had flown over from the States took endless shots of her and Flynn looking happy and slightly shell-shocked.
Oh, well. Wasn’t that how all brides and grooms looked on their wedding day?
* * *
An hour of endless fake smiles later, Helena’s face ached. Still, photos over and done with, she kissed the cheek of the next guest in the reception line, wishing she’d made everyone wear name tags for the occasion. She might know the guest list backwards after helping to put it together, but putting faces to those memorised names was another matter entirely.
Thea would have known them, though. Thea would have wined and dined them as clients in the past, would already have asked them questions about their kids or their pets. No wonder they were all looking at Helena with such confusion and curiosity. She wasn’t what they’d expected, or wanted.
She was kind of used to that.
Beside her, Flynn seemed totally at ease, chatting happily with every person who came past. He, at least, seemed pleased with how the day had turned out.
‘Such a beautiful day,’ a woman in a green hat said, fake smile making it clear that she might well be talking about the weather rather than the wedding.
‘Wasn’t it?’ Isabella said, ignoring the false undertone. ‘We’re all just so delighted to be one happy family at last.’
‘I’m sure,’ Mrs Green Hat replied. ‘Although you do seem to be missing a couple of members right now!’
Isabella’s tinkling laugh gave away nothing. ‘Oh, well, we have everyone who really matters right here, don’t we?’
‘I suppose so. Except you do seem to be missing a best man, at least.’ Good grief, the woman was relentless! ‘I heard Zeke was home for the wedding, and I was so looking forward to seeing him. Such a bright young man.’
Isabella’s expression froze at that, her grin nudging towards a rictus. Leaning between them, Helena plastered on what she hoped was an apologetic smile. ‘I’m so sorry to hurry you along, but I’m afraid the line is already out of the door and people are more than ready for the wedding breakfast, I’m sure. Perhaps you and Isabella can catch up a little later?’
Mrs Green Hat looked a little sour at the interruption, as if too much lemon had been squeezed in her gin and tonic, but she nodded politely anyway. No one argued with the bride on her wedding day, did they?
‘Of course. Isabella, I look forward to talking with you and both your sons later.’ She stalked off towards the dining room, not even bothering to acknowledge Thomas at the end of the line, which Helena thought was just plain rude, thank you very much. Although, quite honestly, Thomas probably deserved it today. But Mrs Green Hat didn’t know that.
Now, if she’d avoided Ezekiel, who continued to glower at every single person he spoke to, she could understand it.
It took forever, but eventually the last of the guests paraded past them and into the dining room. Ezekiel immediately disappeared in the direction of his study without so much as a by-your-leave, but Helena wasn’t complaining.
In fact, she let out a sigh of relief and slipped her feet out of her heels for a moment, letting the cool stone floor soothe her toes.
‘I don’t understand why Thea couldn’t at least leave her shoes and veil if she had to run out on us at the last moment.’ Isabella peered critically at the bright pink shoes lying on the floor. Thomas must have filled her in on the events of the day, Helena supposed. ‘It would be common courtesy, really.’
Rather than not actually running out on her wedding in the first place, Helena supposed. Isabella always did obsess about the details. It wasn’t the first time she’d missed the big picture because of it.
‘I like the pink ones,’ she said, partly just to annoy her new mother-in-law.
‘So do I, actually,’ Flynn said, standing beside her, and she flashed him a huge smile. Maybe this was why people got married—to have someone on their side when they had to deal with their parents. She’d heard of worse reasons.
Thomas, with a weary sigh, lowered himself into an armchair at the edge of the hallway. ‘I suppose we should have known. It’s not like she didn’t have form. I wonder where they are now.’ He stared out of the open front door as he spoke and Helena couldn’t help but follow his gaze.
‘Zeke and Thea?’ Isabella asked. ‘God only knows. Probably off somewhere trying to find new ways to destroy our family.’
‘They were in love,’ Helena said, without even realising she planned to say it. ‘They wanted to be together. And we thought...well, we thought this was the best option. Flynn and I.’ She reached for him blindly, relieved when Flynn grabbed her hand and held it tight.
‘We did,’ he agreed. ‘Still do, actually.’
Isabella studied her so intently that Helena stared at her toes to avoid her gaze. Her pedicure was the exact same colour as her shoes, she realised with pleasure. She almost wanted to point it out to her mother-in-law, to prove that she was good at details, too.
‘Maybe you were right,’ Isabella said finally. ‘It might all be for the best. At least you’re less likely to make a dramatic scene than your sister. If it hadn’t been for Thea’s place in the company...well, I might have suggested to Ezekiel that he pick you for Flynn instead. I said as much to Thea, actually. So I suppose she knew she had a stand-in, if she needed it.’
‘Mother,’ Flynn said, the hint of warning in his voice enough to make Isabella stop talking.
But it couldn’t stop the icy fingers that crept up the back of Helena’s neck at her words. She tugged her hand free from Flynn’s. It wasn’t just Isabella making it perfectly clear that Helena was second choice, a last resort. She already knew that, thanks. But had Thea really known what would happen? Helena thought not. But it seemed, however cross Ezekiel might be, Isabella wasn’t too disappointed with this turn of events. Why would she be? She got a docile, eager to please wife for her son. Flynn had probably been overjoyed when she’d suggested it.
Except, of course, he knew that it was potentially only temporary. Isabella didn’t.
But it was only a matter of time before she found out.
* * *
Flynn’s hand felt suddenly cold without Helena’s in it. Curse his mother. Wasn’t it enough that he had to know that he was an unfortunate backup plan without her driving it home that his new bride was in exactly the same position?
It was time to get the focus back where it belonged—on their marriage, rather than the one that hadn’t happened.
‘Is that all the guests in?’ he asked.
‘Finally, yes,’ Helena said with a small hint of a smile, as if she knew what he was trying to do.
‘God only knows how much wine they’ll have got through already.’ Isabella tucked her hand through Thomas’s arm. ‘We’ll go in and take our seats, then the steward can come and announce you. Is your father coming back?’ The last part was added almost as an afterthought, Flynn realised. While Ezekiel might believe this whole day was all about him and his company, as far as Isabella was concerned, this was a social occasion presided over by herself and Thomas. The man she’d never quite left her husband for, but who was more of a husband to her anyway.
Wow, his family was screwed up.
‘I’m sure he’ll come through eventually,’ Flynn said, even though Ezekiel hadn’t even mentioned he was leaving, let alone returning to the festivities. It would be just like his father to spite them all after having his plans meddled with. Flynn was pretty certain that, actually, Ezekiel would be perfectly content with Helena as a daughter-in-law. It was just the fact that he hadn’t been consulted, or had the final say in the matter, that rankled the old man.
Thomas and Isabella made their way through to the dining room and, rather suddenly, Flynn was alone with his wife for the first time since they’d decided to go through with the marriage. No, not the marriage. That still hadn’t been decided, and wouldn’t be until they had a document rather more legally binding than a scrawled-on invitation with the wrong name on the front. The wedding, then. That much, at least, they had certainly gone through with.
That much had paperwork.
‘I’m sorry about that,’ he said apologetically. ‘You know my mother.’
‘Rather too well,’ Helena agreed, and he couldn’t help but smile.
‘Yes, well. How did you cope with your first official event as an Ashton—the receiving line, I mean? It seemed to go pretty smoothly to me.’
‘Yeah, it was fine, mostly. There were a couple of extra-nosy people asking about Zeke—not Thea, of course, that would be too obvious. Your mother and I put them off, for now anyway.’ She sighed. ‘Although I dread to think what sort of questions they’ll be ready to ask after a few too many glasses of champagne.’
She was right, Flynn realised. Sheer politeness might have stopped the bulk of the comments and observations in the church itself, but once the speeches were over all bets would be off.
Which meant the speeches would have to be something quite spectacular, to give them something else to talk about. Or something else to believe, about the way this day had gone.
‘We have to change the story,’ he said, and Helena’s smile turned awkward.
‘You got that from Thea,’ she said when he raised an eyebrow. ‘That’s one of her big PR phrases.’
‘Well, it applies today. We need to change people’s perceptions of what happened here today.’ And quickly, since he could already see the steward coming to fetch them.
‘Like the fact you married the wrong woman?’
‘Exactly that.’
The steward moved to open the door and Helena grabbed Flynn’s arm as she slipped her slim feet back into those bright pink shoes.
‘Any idea how?’ she murmured, as the dining room doors opened and the steward stepped through.
‘One or two,’ Flynn muttered back.
‘Like?’
But then the steward was announcing them as Mr and Mrs Flynn Ashton, and the show was on again. Helena would just have to wait and see. Flynn smiled to himself. Fixing this could be his wedding present to her.
CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_7cbbfa67-8200-5f47-9781-31254443d223)
IT WAS HARD not to be a little bitter. Helena had spent weeks choosing the perfect menu for this dinner, along with Isabella and the wedding planner and even Thea when she’d had time. They’d tasted and sampled all kinds of dishes, weighed up the pros and cons of a fish course against a sorbet between courses, and debated the merits of local versus imported cheeses for hours. And now, here she was, sitting right in the middle of the top table—and she’d barely tasted a mouthful of any of the plates put in front of her.
It wasn’t that she didn’t want to eat. She was starving, as it happened. But the very efficiently tied corset laces were starting to make breathing a bit more of an issue than she’d like, and she didn’t want to strain them any more than she had to.
She stared longingly at the dessert in front of her and resigned herself to just a small taste. And to staying away from the champagne. Bubbles always went straight to her head, and on an empty stomach they’d be disastrous. Especially today. Today, she needed all of her faculties about her.
‘Are you okay? You’re looking kind of...pink,’ Flynn asked, leaning in. Helena supposed to the crowds of guests it looked as if he was murmuring sweet nothings in his bride’s ear. Not asking her why her complexion had coloured to match her shoes.
‘It’s the corset. It was okay standing up but now it’s kind of...binding.’ Which it was supposed to be, really. It was just that Helena was so very fond of oxygen. And dessert.
Flynn didn’t answer immediately. Helena glanced up to see his cheeks approaching shoe colour, too. ‘I’m sorry. Do you want me to...?’ He trailed off, waving a hand behind her back.
Helena shook her head. ‘Too late now. It’ll be fine. I just need to make it through the speeches then I’ll escape and find a maid or someone to adjust it.’
‘Just don’t let any of the guests see you.’ Flynn flashed her a quick grin. ‘You’ll have the rumour mill announcing you’re pregnant in no time.’
