The light turned orange, the partition window slammed shut, and the taxi started rolling before the lights changed to green.
Beth frowned, her hands clenched in her lap. “I’m sorry. This is my fault. If you hadn’t waited for me, you’d already be there. We’ll have to sneak in quietly and hope no-one notices.”
He reached across the parcel to cover both her small hands with one of his. “Right now, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be than stuck in a London traffic jam with you.”
He wasn’t being polite. He meant it.
And please God, he hoped that she’d believe it.
Chapter 6
If the traffic settled to a complete gridlock, Beth wouldn’t mind a bit. The closer they got to Tower Bridge, the more tense and jittery she became.
In the cab, they were in their own little world. In that world, anything was possible.
She could believe that the only thing that mattered was the sensation of James’s hand on hers, the strange mix of comforting strength and captivating tingle that trembled up her arm.
And she could believe that the soft unfocused warmth in his gaze really did mean that he hadn’t forgotten her, and not that he was barely able to see through his costume glasses.
For now, she could believe that everything she hoped for was true.
Once they stepped out of the cab, that would change. They’d be back in the real world.
The world where a brilliant physicist, whose mother was the daughter of a viscount and whose father was a multi-millionaire, would never fall in love with a shop assistant from a run-down council estate in Stevenage. Desperate for a partner, he might ask her to a wedding, but marry her? Never.
If they were crazy enough to try, his family and friends wouldn’t just look down on her, but on him too.
In his world, having the wrong wife would damage his career. Too many people still cared as much about ‘being the right sort’ as they did about the originality of James’s research.
If his brilliant mind came secondary to all that, what did she have to offer?
Worse, he didn’t give any sign of recognising the potential problems. He’d tell her those beliefs were old-fashioned, that people didn’t think that way any more.
But they did. The bullies at school had told her so. Her aunt and his mother and Imogen had told her so.
Even church had told her. She’d sung every verse of ‘All Things Bright and Beautiful’ often enough on Sundays.
People like her should know their place. And that place was not falling in love with James Tetherton-Hart.
Not the first time.
Not now.
When she’d fled home from her summer job at Tetherton Hall at sixteen with a broken heart, her parents convinced her to give up hoping for more, telling her that would only make her unhappy. They’d talked her into giving up the private school scholarship she’d worked so hard for, and getting a job instead.
Her parents loved her, but they didn’t understand her, any more than Aunt Alice did.
What none of them understood was that the connection, the sense of being truly seen and understood, only happened with James.
They belonged together, in every way. Except the gulf between their education, wealth, and background.
And that was enough to keep them apart.
She pulled her hands out from under his, folded them tightly in her lap, and stared out the window, barely registering the glittering London landmarks they passed, until the cab pulled up at Tower Bridge.
A huge sigh escaped her.
“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” The worry in his words echoed in his hazel eyes.
“I’m fine.” Her voice wobbled, betraying her.
He shook his head. “I shouldn’t have pressured you into this. Immy probably won’t even notice I’m there, let alone if I’m on my own.” He smiled. “I was probably invited to rub my nose in the fact she’s getting married and I’m not. The ‘look what you missed out on’ revenge theory.”
Teenage James wouldn’t have been capable of such a cynical thought. But that sounded exactly what Imogen would do.
Sucking in a deep breath, she silently whispered a prayer for guidance. Being with James again felt such a gift from God.
But what if it risked messing up not just his evening, but his life?
The sudden and unexpected conviction that she was where she was supposed to be washed over her like a blessing. Her fear drained away, leaving only an effervescent delight at his company.
“No, I’m fine. You didn’t pressure me at all. I agreed to come. Momentary collywobbles, that’s all. Let’s do it!”
His grin was reward enough. He paid the cabbie, picked up the present, and grabbed her hand.
Laughing like two school kids, they ran through the entrance doors. Security slowed them for a minute, then they were in the lift carrying them up the North Tower. They stepped out into the foyer, and hesitated outside the huge arched white doors.
Closed doors, suggesting the ceremony was already in progress.
James peered at his watch. “We’re very late,” he whispered.
“Maybe we can slip into the room, and no-one will see us. Or we can go wait in the room they’re using for the reception instead.” Her voice rose hopefully, begging him to please choose option B.
His eyelids scrunched up in thought for a moment, and he shook his head. “I ought to try to be there for the ceremony.” He smiled. “We may not have missed much. Immy was probably late too. Dreadfully unpunctual. And isn’t it traditional that brides are late?”
He pushed on the door, and it opened without any audible creaks. Someone must keep those massive iron hinges well oiled.
So far so good.
No-one seemed to notice them as they edged into the room. Everyone’s attention was on the bride and groom. The couple stood perfectly framed in front of a floor to ceiling diamond paned window, as the grey-coiffed female celebrant solemnly intoned the importance of the civil marriage contract.
Beth blinked at Imogen’s choice of red and black for her wedding dress, but tried to be charitable. The room made the perfect dramatic setting to complement their steampunk costumes. High beamed ceilings, that spectacular gothic window, chairs swathed with white muslin and tied with wide black ribbons.
She spotted two empty seats, on the far side of the room and pointed them out to James. Then she spotted something else that made her joy evaporate and her stomach drop.
Not a person in the room was wearing Halloween outfits, apart from her and James. Most wore elegant clothes suitable for an occasion, apart from a few guests in elaborate and formal Victorian outfits.
So much for blending in and going unnoticed.
Drawing hard on the memory of the certainty she’d felt in the cab bolstered her courage. Not much, but enough to keep going.
James appeared oblivious, interested only in sneaking to the seats without anyone seeing them.
It might have worked too, if he hadn’t tangled a foot in the trailing ribbons of the seat in front.
Just as the celebrant paused after asking if anyone present knew any lawful impediment to the marriage, James tripped forward, over-corrected backward with arms flailing for balance, and sent the gift wrapped wedding present flying back over his head.
Her schoolgirl soccer playing skills took over. With an instinctive diving save a World Cup goalkeeper would be proud of, she caught the present in her outstretched hands the instant before it smashed on the floor.
But too late, she discovered that stopping after a dive save on a polished wooden floor in a slippery polyester dress didn’t work quite the way it did on a grass football pitch.
Momentum kept her sliding, right toward the spindly legs of a table supporting an enormous floral display. Helpless to prevent an inevitable crash, she scrunched her eyes tight shut.
It was going to be loud, it was going to be messy, and it was going to be very, very embarrassing.
It n
ever happened.
Strong hands grabbed her around her waist and held on tight, and a heavy weight pressed her legs to the floor. Skidding to a halt, her outstretched hands still clutching the parcel almost touched one of the table’s delicate legs.
She put the present on the floor, raised herself on her arms, and swivelled her head to look behind her. James lay along her legs, his big hands gripping her hips, in a dive save of his own. He raised his head, chuckled, and beamed his adorable lopsided smile.
“Rugby,” he panted. “Learned how to tackle.”
Grinning back was too much to resist.
But her “Shhh” came too late.
As they untangled themselves, rolled over, and sat up, everyone turned to stare at them, instead of the bride and groom.
If something like this happened in a TV sit com or a farce, she’d have laughed and thought it unbelievable. Yet here it was happening to her, in real life.
In real life, it wasn’t the least bit funny.
Humiliation swept over her in flames, impossibly hot, sucking the air out of her lungs and leaving her lightheaded and dizzy.
No matter how nasty Imogen had been in the past, Beth would never have deliberately done this. Disrupting a bride’s special moment, even a bridezilla’s, ranked as unforgiveable.
Unsurprisingly, Imogen glared as if homicide was too easy a revenge. Things couldn’t get any worse.
Then Beth realised, they could.
Not only had they ruined Imogen’s night, this might ruin her job. Her whole career depended on attracting the right sort of brides and keeping them happy. And here she was, looking a wreck, in a ridiculous costume, trashing the ceremony of a society bride.
Her dreams of that sweet little home of her own and the chance to study in peace shrivelled and disappeared.
She wished she could disappear, too.
James, who she’d expected to be just as mortified, merely stood, straightened his sky blue Brains jacket, and reached down to help her scramble to her feet. He turned to wave in Imogen’s direction.
His cheery, “So sorry, do carry on,” didn’t sound nearly sorry enough to satisfy the bride, whose dagger eyed scowl suggested plans for a slow painful torture for them both.
The groom gave the appearance of a man who wanted to laugh, but knew it was more than his life was worth to do it. He kept a straight face, and held onto Imogen’s arm like a man holding a Rottweiler’s leash.
The celebrant, too, appeared to be stifling a grin, at odds with her headmistressy manner. “Once you both sit down, and I can be sure you won’t cause any further interruptions, I will.”
Beth nodded, and scurried toward the empty seats, dragging James behind her. As soon as they sat, she let go of his hand, shrinking into her chair, careful not to touch him.
It was crazy, the logic of a two year old, but perhaps if Imogen didn’t see her, she’d stop being angry with them.
The celebrant resumed where she’d left off. “I’ll ask again. If any person present knows of any legal reason why these two people should not be joined in matrimony they should declare it now.”
Beth didn’t dare to let even a breath disturb the hush of the room.
James sat tall and solid beside her, as if nothing serious had happened. He took hold of her hand and squeezed gently.
She peeked up at him, smiling down at her, his eyes alight with humour and affection. Reassurance, comfort, and warmth flowed from his firm touch.
Maybe things weren’t so bad, after all.
Chapter 7
James’s instant adrenaline response was to run, but that risked adding insult to injury for the already furious bride. Everyone knew he became clumsy and awkward the second he left his research lab, but he’d never before managed to disrupt anyone’s wedding.
Beth’s hunched posture and flaming cheeks suggested she wanted to become invisible, every bit as much as he did. For her sake, he had to stay strong and brazen it out.
Her sweet gentleness wasn’t any match for Immy. Even without their history, the bride would be out for revenge after they’d taken the spotlight off her on her big day. Now, she’d probably be ready to kill.
Without his glasses, he hadn’t been able to make out Immy’s expression, but chances were, it hadn’t been pretty.
She should be glad. Beth saved her gift, after all.
Of course, Immy wouldn’t see it that way. And he wondered if Hugo, the groom, had any idea what he was letting himself in for.
Marriage should be a lot more than dressing up in costumes and standing in front of an audience repeating lines. Or he hoped it could be.
His parents’ marriage wasn’t anything to go by. They were rarely in the same country, let alone the same room. He’d seen them only a few times a year. Not the sort of marriage or family life he wanted.
Immy or any of the other well-bred girls his mother had thrown at him weren’t the sort he wanted for a wife, either.
There’d only ever been one girl he’d wanted to spend the rest of his life with.
He edged his chair a little closer to Beth, so his knee touched hers. When she’d had time off from her housemaiding duties, they’d sat together reading like that at Tetherton Hall.
Praying she’d know God’s protection and comfort, praying that she felt the same for him as he felt for her, he took her hand. Hopefully, she’d sense his support and encouragement.
She didn’t pull away, as he’d feared she might. Instead, she leaned into him a little, as if seeking more reassurance.
The places where they touched seemed so much more alive than anywhere else in his body. Each individual sensory nerve ending fired off its electrical impulse, shooting along the axon to his brain.
He didn’t bother watching Immy and Hugo at the front of the room. He couldn’t take his gaze off Beth.
She did the same, looking up at him, lips parted, something hopeful and yearning in her eyes that he’d missed seeing in the years they’d been apart. Even through her make-up, a soft blush replaced the shocked pallor in her cheeks.
His head knew the blush was nothing but localised vasodilation, a reflex autonomic reaction to a stimulus. But his heart knew she reacted to him, to his nearness, to his touch.
Once again, it did that completely impossible flipping over in his chest thing.
The registrar continued with the ceremony, her clear voice echoing around the room. “Marriage is the union of one man and one woman, voluntarily entered into for life, to the exclusion of all others. But further, it is also a solemn union to provide love, friendship, help and comfort, both in times of joy and in times of difficulty, not to be entered into lightly nor lightly to be put aside.”
He wanted his marriage to be all of that. For love. And for life.
Not because their mothers decided it as schoolgirls together. Or because his great-grandfather was an earl. Or because his wife wanted the unlimited supply of designer shoes and handbags his father’s money would buy her.
Those weren’t good enough reasons to commit to staying together for life.
He wanted a real marriage. A loving marriage blessed by God.
A line from the ceremony at the last wedding he’d attended came into his mind. ‘God is love, and those who live in love live in God and God lives in them.’
He wanted to live in love. And he wanted that life of love with Beth. No-one else. It had always been Beth. It would always be Beth.
The glow in her clear brown eyes seemed like a promise. He let go of her hand, but only to slowly and carefully slip his arm around her shoulder and draw her closer.
At first, she looked away and her shoulders stiffened beneath his arm.
Ready to draw back, he lifted it, though gravitational attraction as strong as Jupiter’s pulled it to her.
He’d more than half expected that putting his arm around her would be too much and she’d jerk away, but that didn’t stop disappointment seeping through him.
Now, he wished he really did
have a way to dematerialise.
Sure, he felt bad about disrupting the wedding, but he felt far worse about making Beth uncomfortable and pushing himself on her.
Then she surprised him by nestling in against him, tucking her shoulder under his arm and resting her head against him.
A grin cracked his face as he lowered his arm to rest on her again, and the warm delight of holding her flowed into him. The pounding of his heartbeat in his ears blocked out every word the marriage celebrant said.
Funny how much easier it was to predict the behaviour of a specific molecule in a complex system than predict Beth’s reaction to him.
Of course, it could simply be a defensive manoeuvre on her part. Snuggled down that way, she hid herself nicely from the view of anyone at the front of the room. Anyone like an angry bride out for real blood, not the fake blood that decorated Beth’s outfit, for example.
But that didn’t feel like her only reason.
It might be illogical, but it seemed Beth was exactly where they both wanted her to be. He gave up trying to figure it out and simply enjoyed the experience.
When she suddenly pulled away from him and stood up it left him cold and bereft.
“The vows, we need to stand,” she whispered.
He stood too fast, bumping his chair backward with a loud scrape.
Beth cringed beside him.
“Sorry,” he mouthed.
He turned to check the guests on his other side, praying they were watching Immy and Hugo and not at him and Beth.
Thankfully, the middle-aged couple gazed ahead, exactly where they should. But he noticed something he hadn’t noticed before. They looked to be wearing perfectly normal wedding guest style clothing.
No Halloween outfits. They mustn’t have realised it was required, or hadn’t bothered.
He peered across the aisle, then at the backs of the people in front.
His eyesight without his glasses was bad, but not bad enough he couldn’t see the glaringly obvious when he looked for it. No-one else wore anything out of the ordinary for a wedding.
Yet Immy certainly told him to wear fancy dress.
Love In Store Books 1-3: Collection of three sweet and clean Christian romances with a London setting: The Wedding List, Believe in Me, & A Model Bride Page 5