The Society Groom

With his thick, wavy dark hair, a slightly swarthy complexion, high cheekbones and Roman nose—together with a distinctly predatory glint in the heavy-lidded smokygrey eyes set beneath dark, quizzical eyebrows—Dominic had a disturbingly hawk-like, dangerous air about him. On top of which, since he was not only a peer of the realm but also extremely wealthy, and lived in a romantic old castle, it was no wonder that he appeared almost irresistible to the opposite sex!

Mark’s slightly envious thoughts were interrupted as his friend, who’d left his side for a moment, returned with a puzzled frown in his face.

‘That’s odd,’ Dominic murmured. ‘I could have sworn... I thought I’d caught a glimpse of someone who seemed strangely familiar—although I can’t recall where or when we might have met. But...’ he shrugged his broad shoulders ‘...she now seems to have disappeared into thin air.’

‘Oh, really? So after all your efforts to keep the groom as sober as a judge maybe it was the best man who drank too much last night?’ Mark teased.

‘You’re probably right,’ Dominic agreed with a slightly embarrassed, wry shrug of his shoulders as they entered the church and began walking slowly down the brightly lit nave towards their seats in the front pew, on the right-hand side of the aisle.

Unfortunately, Olivia Johnson was only too well aware of the identity of the tall, dark and attractive best man.

Earlier, while standing within the church porch, checking that the ushers had ample supplies of the Order of Service sheets, her eyes had slowly and inexorably been drawn towards the tall, broad-shouldered figure accompanying a shorter man as they’d mounted the church steps towards her.

I don’t believe it! What on earth is he doing here? she’d asked herself incredulously, the blood draining from her face at the sight of the arrogant, hawk-like features of Dominic FitzCharles.

Feeling suddenly faint, as though she’d been hit by a violent blow to the solar plexus, Olivia had instinctively staggered back into a dark, shadowy far corner of the porch, desperately trying to pull herself together.

And then, as she’d heard the ushers outside on the steps calling out greetings to the two men, she’d realised that she’d just witnessed the arrival of the groom and his best man. Which had to mean that by some utterly disastrous, malign twist of fate it must be Dominic who’d been chosen to replace Mark Ryland’s brother.

A moment later, suddenly overcome by panic as she’d seen him moving determinedly through the crowd of ushers towards her, Olivia had taken to her heels. Quickly slipping through the half-open heavy oak door, she’d swiftly disappeared from sight inside the main body of the church.

Breathless and trembling with shock, her legs feeling as though they were made of cotton wool, Olivia had hurriedly made her way to a small side chapel, hidden from sight on the far side of the nave. Sinking weakly down onto a pew, and staring blindly at the flickering candles on the altar, she’d frantically tried to calm down and work out what she was going to do about this potentially disastrous situation.

Fortunately, it hadn’t been very long before some small measure of common sense had come to her aid, and she’d gradually begun pulling herself together.

So...OK...it had been a shock, she told herself now firmly. But running away from a situation—however difficult-was obviously a very childish response, and certainly wasn’t going to solve anything.

Although they now moved in quite different circles, and no longer had any friends in common, she really ought to have guessed that she was bound to meet Dominic again sooner or later. In fact, it had been downright stupid of her not to have already worked out what she was going to say, or do, if and when they bumped into one another. And why she hadn’t prepared herself for just such an eventuality long before now, she had absolutely no idea.

Well, that wasn’t strictly true, of course. Because no one with any sense would want to spend too much time thinking about unhappy episodes in their past. Not when they could hardly bear to recall the really awful, crippling shame of having once made such an almighty fool of themselves.

Besides, it must be at least ten years since that dreadfully embarrassing, quite horrendous episode involving herself and Dominic. Ten years in which Olivia knew that she’d changed beyond all recognition. Thankfully, she no longer bore any resemblance to that highly emotional eighteen-year-old, her head filled to the brim with romantic fantasies and madly in love with the wild, Byronic hero of her dreams.

Although, to be fair, she hadn’t been the only silly, immature young girl overwhelmed by Dominic’s devastating charm and overwhelming sex appeal. Or attracted, like a moth to a flame, by the highly glamorous, almost uncanny resemblance he bore to his ancestor—that famous seducer of beautiful women-King Charles II.

What an idiot she’d been! Olivia told herself, shaking her head at her own youthful folly. Anyone with even half an ounce of sense would have known that it would all end in tears. As indeed it had, she thought grimly, slowly rising to her feet and brushing the dust from her black velvet suit.

Taking a deep breath, she tried to clear her mind of the unhappy memories of the past. Quite apart from anything else, she couldn’t afford to stay hidden away here, feeling sorry for herself. In fact, it was absolutely imperative that she got back to work as soon as possible.

As the owner and sole proprietor of Society Weddings—providing a service for those wishing to place the organisation of their wedding in safe, professional hands—Olivia knew that much of her success was the result of sheer hard work and careful planning. And she had quite enough to cope with in making sure that Sarah Turnbull’s marriage proved to be the occasion of her dreams without having to worry about Dominic FitzCharles.

Of course, if she’d known that it was he whom Mark Ryland would choose as his best man when the groom’s younger brother had been so unexpectedly taken ill with appendicitis, she might have been better prepared. But then, as she knew so well, life had a way of throwing rotten tomatoes in your way when you least expected it, and she was just going to have to cope with the situation as best she could.

Unfortunately, despite giving herself such really excellent advice, there seemed nothing Olivia could do to control the slightly sick feelings of nervous apprehension settling like a hard lump of concrete in her stomach.

Taking a deep breath, and fully determined to concentrate on her job, Olivia walked slowly out of the small side chapel into the main body of the church.

Please ... please give Dominic FitzCharles a really bad case of amnesia! she prayed fervently, hoping against hope that a benevolent God would somehow save her from what she could only think of as a hideously embarrassing situation.

‘I’m not sure that getting here so early was all that great an idea,’ Mark said, shifting uncomfortably on the hard wooden pew and desperately wishing that he could get his hands on a stiff drink.

‘It’s just prewedding nerves,’ Dominic drawled, smiling at the nervous, worried expression on the other man’s pale face.

‘It’s all right for you!’ Mark muttered grimly, ashamed to find himself feeling quite so tense. ‘You may be in no hurry to get married, but I hope that I’m around to have a good laugh if and when some clever woman does manage to drag you to the altar.’

‘Hey—relax!’ Dominic murmured, gazing at his friend with concern. ‘Sarah’s a wonderful girl, and I know that the two of you are going to be very happy. So just hang in there, OK?’

Mark nodded. ‘Yeah...sorry about losing my cool like that. It’s just...I don’t know...’ He gave a helpless shrug of his shoulders.

‘It won’t be long now,’ Dominic told him comfortingly. ‘By the way...’ he added, attempting to distract his friend by turning his thoughts in another direction. ‘Because of your brother’s totally unexpected illness we haven’t had time to discuss all the normal duties of a best man. So, what do you want me to do about paying the vicar? I’ve brought some money with me, just in case it might be necessary, and...’

‘Oh, there’s no need to worry,’ Mark told him. ‘Sarah’s found this woman who’s apparently taking care of all those boring, nitty-gritty details. In fact, as far as I can make out, she’s handling just about everything.’

Dominic raised a dark, quizzical eyebrow. ‘Everything? ’

Mark nodded. ‘According to Sarah, this woman has organised the whole bang-shoot. And, while it might be costing her father an arm and a leg, Sarah reckons it’s worth every penny. If only for the fact that she’s now having the sort of wedding she wants—and not something dreamed up by her mother.’

‘That sounds like a damn good idea,’ Dominic agreed as the sound of soft organ music and the increasing amount of noise and bustle indicated that the first guests were beginning to enter the church. ‘Ah-ha...I knew I hadn’t been mistaken!’

‘Hmm...?’

Dominic nodded to the other side of the church, to where a girl was climbing up onto a pew, clearly with the aim of making a slight adjustment to a flower arrangement which had been placed on a high windowsill.

‘That’s the girl I saw earlier in the porch—when we first arrived. And I’m still quite certain that I’ve seen her somewhere before. But I can’t recall exactly when or where...’ he muttered, his dark brows drawn together in a distracted frown.

‘Sorry—I haven’t a clue who she is.’ Mark gave a slight shrug. ‘Although I must say,’ he added, viewing the tight skirt of the girl’s black velvet suit, momentarily riding up to reveal long, slim legs clothed in sheer black stockings, ‘she’s got a great pair of very sexy legs!’

‘You’re absolutely right,’ Dominic drawled with amusement. ‘But I don’t think this is exactly the right moment to be saying so, do you? Not when you’re supposed to be getting married in a few minutes’ time!’

Mark grinned. However, before he could reply, his attention was claimed by the arrival of his parents, who were being shown to their seats in the pew directly behind him.

While Lady Ryland gave her son a quick kiss, and Lord Ryland shook his hand, gruffly wishing him ‘the very best of luck, my boy’, Dominic found himself becoming increasingly irritated at not being able to recollect precisely where he’d seen the tall, slim girl.

Moreover, if it didn’t seem so utterly ridiculous, he might think that she was deliberately avoiding looking in his direction. In fact, despite not being able to catch more than a brief glimpse of a pale complexion and tawny-gold hair hidden beneath her wide-brimmed, black velvet hat, she still appeared disturbingly familiar—even while keeping her back firmly turned towards him.

With the arrival of Mrs Turnbull and the small bridesmaids, quickly followed by that of the bride and her father at the church door, Olivia found herself far too busy to spend any more time worrying about Dominic.

‘You look absolutely wonderful!’ she told Sarah with a beaming smile, before quickly reassuring the other girl that her groom had arrived, and everything was totally under control. ‘So just relax—and enjoy your wedding.’

‘Yes, I know that I will...thanks to you!’ Sarah said with heartfelt gratitude as Olivia carefully adjusted the cowl hood of the bride’s long ivory velvet cloak, lined in deep crimson satin, which flowed down to the ground and behind her in a curved train.

‘In fact, without your help, I’d be standing here dressed like a fairy on the top of a Christmas tree!’ Sarah added with a ripple of laughter, and the two girls grinned at one another as they recalled the many battles they’d had with Mrs Turnbull.

‘I want my daughter to look like a proper bride,’ that formidable lady had announced in a hard, no-nonsense tone of voice on being first introduced to Olivia, some months ago. ‘Sarah might be marrying a lord’s son—but I’m not having any of his family thinking we don’t know what’s what! Not when my husband’s got more loose change in his pocket than they’ve got in the whole of their bank account,’ she’d added grimly.

‘You’re absolutely right,’ Olivia had murmured soothingly, well able to understand the older woman’s determination not to be pushed around or over-awed by the prospect of her daughter marrying into the aristocracy. In fact, Mark’s parents, Lord and Lady Ryland, were perfectly nice, ordinary people, distinctly nonsnobbish, and very happy with their son’s choice of bride.

It had, however, taken a great deal of time and trouble on Olivia’s part to convince Mrs Turnbull that the slim, petite figure of her pretty darkhaired daughter would definitely not be seen to best advantage in the dress on which her mother had set her heart.