Bride for a Night(4)

It was only when she was standing at the altar that the disaster she had been anticipating the entire day at last struck.

The rector was attired in his finest robes with a somber expression on his round face. Talia’s father was standing at her side wearing his finest black jacket and silver waistcoat. And on the other side was Talia’s only friend, Hannah Lansing, the daughter of a baronet who shared Talia’s miserable fate as a wallflower.

But there was one notable absence.

Mr. Harry Richardson was nowhere to be found.

For nearly two hours they waited for the missing bridegroom to make his appearance, while the increasingly bleak silence that had filled the church echoed in Talia’s heart.

She felt…numb. As if the humiliation of being abandoned at the altar was happening to some other unfortunate lady.

It was a sensation that refused to be dismissed even when her father had stormed from the church, swearing that the bastard would suffer for having made a fool of Silas Dobson. And when she had been forced to return to the house and announce to the two hundred avid, twittering guests that the wedding had been regrettably postponed.

Or now, as she sat in her private sitting room decorated in soothing shades of lavender and ivory.

Perched on the edge of the window seat that overlooked the rose garden filled with guests still reveling at being in attendance at the greatest scandal of the season, Talia understood she should feel something.

Anger, humiliation, heartbreak…

Anything but the awful emptiness.

Absently she watched as Hannah paced across the Persian carpet, the swish of her rose satin gown the only sound to break the thick silence. The poor girl was clearly at a loss as to how to handle the awkward situation.

“I am certain there must have been an accident,” Hannah at last muttered, her round face flushed and her frizz of brown curls escaping from silver combs.

Talia shrugged, unable to stir an interest in why Harry had failed to appear at his own wedding.

“Are you?” she asked, her voice dull.

“Yes, indeed.” Hannah’s dark eyes held a sympathy she couldn’t entirely disguise. “No doubt the carriage overturned and Mr. Richardson and his family were knocked unconscious.”

“Perhaps.”

“Oh.” Hannah pressed a hand to her plump breasts. “Not that I would wish for the passengers to be injured.”

“No. Of course not.”

“But it would explain…”

“Explain why I was left at the altar?”

Hannah grimaced in embarrassment. “Yes.”

An uncomfortable silence filled the sitting room, and with an effort, Talia searched her mind for a means to be rid of her companion.

It was not that she didn’t appreciate Hannah’s attempts to offer comfort, but for the moment she desperately wished to be alone.

Clearing her throat, she glanced toward the door. “Has my father returned?”

“Do you wish me to discover if he is here?”

“If it is no trouble.”

Hannah gratefully latched onto the small task, obviously pleased to be of service.

“Not at all. And I shall bring you a tea tray.”

Talia shuddered at the mere thought of food. “I am not hungry.”

“Perhaps not, but you are very pale.” Hannah’s soft brown gaze lingered on Talia’s face with obvious concern. “You should try to eat something.”

“If you insist.” Talia managed a smile. “You’re very kind.”

“Nonsense. I am your friend.”