Confessions Of A Bad Bridesmaid

‘I’m sorry. Fiona didn’t mention you had a Masters in Psychology. Because that must be the only reason you assume to know who I am and what I’m thinking.’

‘One would only need a Certificate in Teeth-Brushing to know you have a myriad of issues about this wedding that we can’t even begin to delve into during this short car-ride.’

Incensed, Olivia could barely speak—but she managed to blurt out, ‘At least I haven’t come down with a bad case of My-Life-Is-So-Miserable-I-Want-to-Ruin-It-For-Everyone-Else-itis.’

He laughed out loud then and she turned to the window. He was laughing at her. Making fun of her. Humiliation burned her blood.

He obviously didn’t like her at all. Not even a little bit. When she had attempted to flirt with him the bore had shot her down. He hadn’t even watched her when she’d got naked. No, this annoyingly handsome man had absolutely no interest in her. Which strangely sort of made her feel a little better.

She blinked and unfolded her arms. At least she wouldn’t have to worry about making a fool of herself in front of him. That thought was comforting. She unlaced her legs from the confusing contortions they were now in and let out a breath.

THREE

‘So what do you think of Will and Fi getting married after only eight months?’ she asked tentatively, waiting for his smart remark.

He looked at her for a second, suspicion obvious on his face. ‘Are you trying to get me to say something awful so you can report it back to the bride-to-be?’

‘No, I’m just asking your opinion on whether you think it’s true love.’

‘True love?’ He made a sound that sounded a lot like a snort. ‘What’s that?’

‘It’s what Will is lucky enough to have found with Fi.’

‘I wouldn’t associate the word “lucky” with a man in love. “Dangerous” would be a better word.’

‘You think falling in love is dangerous?’

‘I think falling in love is a fallacy. And any man who thinks he’s in love is definitely in danger.’

Olivia opened her mouth to argue. But she didn’t. Dangerous. That was exactly what falling in love was like. Like surfing in a bikini. Sooner or later someone would see your boobs and you’d be left humiliated, embarrassed and wishing you hadn’t come. Olivia curled an arm instinctively across her chest. No one was going to see her boobs. This weekend was about fun. Cute boys and champagne. There would be no falling in love and no exposed anything.

‘What about you?’ the deep voice in the car murmured. ‘What do you think about their whirlwind romance?’

What did she think? The word devastated popped into her mind, but that wasn’t right. She wasn’t devastated. Her friend was happy. She was happy for her.

She turned to face him. His face in profile was striking. A strong forehead led down to a long, straight nose and his square jaw jutted roughly. He looked manly and rugged, even with that ridiculous knotted scarf around his neck. Olivia felt herself tingle all over, particularly in those regions where the green light had stopped flashing. No. Not this man.

‘I think it’s romantic,’ she said, with a defiant tilt to her chin.

He turned to look at her for just a second and the loveliness of his dark eyes hit her in the chest.

‘I knew it—what you lack in intelligence you obviously make up for in foolishness,’ he said with a mocking smirk.

Olivia turned her eyes away from the irritating man next to her and squared her shoulders. This was one man. There would be more. And probably more handsome men too—although she wasn’t too sure about that. He was pretty damn handsome. But she wasn’t attracted to him and his swoon-worthy eyes. It had just been too long.

She decided she’d refuse to talk to him any longer as her eyes adjusted to the quickly falling darkness outside and a few minutes later the car slowed to a stop. A set of black gates opened automatically in front of them. Large, black, intricately carved iron gates. Flash, she mused absently.

As he drove Olivia focussed on the sound of the gravel crunching underneath the tyres so she didn’t have to think about the silent figure beside her. The atmosphere in the car had turned awkward and Olivia shifted in her seat. A trickle of unease about the weekend ran down her spine.

She looked out of the window. A long line of bare trees either side of the driveway and a heavy layer of fog restricted her view. Edward’s silence continued, as did the strange feeling that this weekend might not go to plan. Olivia felt an urge to tell him to turn around, and she almost did, but then, as they turned the corner, Olivia’s breath caught.

The driveway led to a large circular courtyard and in the middle was an enormous statue of a winged man spurting water from his arrow. Behind him, rising up from the ground like something out of a Nancy Mitford novel, was an enormous stone structure. Dozens of dark windows lined the high stone walls and at either end was a peaked turret. And flying from the peak of each one were flags.

Flags. Like when the Queen was in residence. Actual flags, with something that looked like a lion with wings on them. This wasn’t a house—it was a castle! What was Will? A prince?

Olivia could feel her lips had shaped into an O but she couldn’t stop it. Out of the window she saw they’d passed a pristine lawn that appeared striped, and staring back at her was a peacock, its plumage spread wide in fascinating colours of teal and emerald.

‘Are you joking?’ she whispered to herself as perfectly trimmed topiary trees slowly passed by the car.

‘We never joke,’ came the quiet answer.

With a final crunch of tyres the car pulled up at the front of the house and immediately her car door was pulled open. When Olivia looked out she was faced with a grim-faced tall man dressed in black tie and tails. Complete with a top hat. He reached out a gloved hand to help her out of the car and Olivia finally broke out into uncontrollable giggles.

‘Are you serious?’ she asked him.

Edward had silently exited the car and appeared before her at the doorway of the car.

‘Deadly,’ he said, dismissing the Jeeves character with a nod and reaching out his own hand.

Olivia gripped it. She felt herself fall back and was grateful for the strength of his fingers as he pulled her up and out of the car. She clung to the warmth of his big palm as she stood and finally faced the monolith of a castle Fiona would soon call home.

‘Livvie!’

The next thing she felt was Fiona’s slender arms around her waist, and she smelled the familiar flowery scent of her best friend as she hugged her and—for just a second—made her world seem a little more normal again.

Olivia let go of the big male hand that was still holding her to hug Fiona, who was now clinging to her, her face burrowing into her shoulder. Olivia tried to pull away but Fiona held her tight for another few seconds before releasing her. Tears floated in her best friend’s eyes.

‘Oh, Livvie, I’m so glad you’re here.’

Fiona held her hands hard and Olivia’s nervousness disappeared. She was so glad to see her friend, and from the look on Fiona’s face she was more needed than she’d realised.

Squeezing Fiona’s hand, she smiled. ‘How are you, babe?’

Fiona’s big brown eyes blinked and her smile faltered. ‘I... I’m... It’s...’

Olivia knew that look. Something was wrong. Very wrong. A strange excitement gripped her chest. Had something happened between Fiona and Will? No. That would be bad, and Fiona didn’t deserve her to be thinking like that. She gripped her friend’s hand and turned to Edward. He might as well be of some use if he was just going to stand there like a giant wombat.

‘Can you bring my bags in, Eddie?’ she asked him, before putting her arm around Fiona’s shoulders and walking with her friend up the stone steps and through the stone archway that heralded their arrival into the castle.

* * *

Could he bring her bags in? What did she think he was? Her ladies’ maid? But the man his sister had hired to greet the cars had moved on and he was left out at the front alone.

Edward looked up at the cold stone wall. He hadn’t lived here in over twenty years but it still made him shiver. That last day was burned into his brain. That day was all he thought about when he thought of home. He’d been relieved when he’d returned to boarding school a month after it had happened—glad to get away. But today he had to be here. His mother needed him. She was taking it hard.

‘Another one gone,’ she’d told him on the phone the other day. His temple throbbed again.

With a heavy sigh he heaved the multitude of bags from his car. He grumbled under his breath as the first spots of rain started to fall. A particularly cold droplet hit the back of his neck and wormed its way down his back. He shivered and moved to shake the cold feeling off. The woman was only here for four days—why would she need so much luggage?