Lottie pressed her lips together. His art was the one thing Lucca said he wanted to keep private. She would honour that. ‘We should get moving. The photographer wants some more shots before we leave for the cathedral.’
Lucca had considered giving the wedding a miss but changed his mind at the last minute. He knew Lottie would be feeling nervous that everything would run according to plan. Her role as maid of honour would be adding another layer of pressure on her so he figured he would keep an eye on things in the background so she could concentrate on her duties. It didn’t have anything to do with making the most of his last moments with her. He was all set to head back to London once the month was officially over. That was the deal and he was sticking to it. Once his money was secured he’d be gone.
Just three more days and he would have what he wanted.
A huge crowd of people and paparazzi had gathered outside the cathedral but he’d been expecting that. He already had his jokes and one-liners ready for any speculation about his attendance at an event he so far had managed to avoid.
‘Lucca Chatsfield.’ A journalist pressed through the crowd to thrust a microphone at him. ‘Social media is going wild with a nude portrait of Princess Charlotte. There’s some speculation going around that you’re the artist. Do you have a comment to make?’
Lucca felt his guts turned to gravy. How on earth had that leaked out? And today of all days. Lottie would be devastated. Humiliated by him. Betrayed by him. Tainted by him.
Another journalist surged towards him and another and another until he was backed against the cold stone of the cathedral.
‘An art critic in London has said the portrait is the work of a master. What do you say to that, Lucca?’
The questions kept firing at him like poisoned darts.
‘How long have you been painting?’
‘Have you got an exhibition planned?’
‘What’s the asking price on the princess’s portrait?’
‘Someone’s offering to pay three million pounds for it. Will you take it?’
Lucca shoved the microphones away with a savage thrust of his hand. ‘Get out of my way.’
‘Does the princess know you’ve shared her portrait with the world?’
‘Here’s the bridal party coming now,’ one of the photographers said.
Lucca’s stomach plummeted when the paparazzi turned as a whole towards the royal cavalcade. Four black-and-gold carriages drawn by snow-white horses came clip-clopping towards the cathedral as a volley of trumpets sounded. Lottie was in the first carriage with three other bridesmaids looking more beautiful than he had ever seen her. Her world was about to be shattered and there was no way of protecting her, of even warning her before the press surged on her like hyenas on an unsuspecting fawn.
He had never felt more disgusted with himself. He had brought this on her. Not only had he ruined everything for her, he had ruined her sister’s wedding day. The event Lottie had worked so hard at making as perfect as she possibly could.
He had destroyed it.
He had destroyed her reputation. Smeared it. Soiled it.
He had destroyed any iota of respect she had gained for him over the past three and half weeks. From now on she would look at him with disgust and loathing. She would hate him when he had hoped … what had he hoped?
He couldn’t—wouldn’t—allow himself to think of what he had hoped. Hope wasn’t a currency he used. He was a playboy—a hardened cynical playboy who didn’t believe in hope and love and commitment.
Lucca saw the moment she found out. He watched in powerless misery as her world came crashing down. He thought he was going to be physically ill. He felt the sour bile come up in his throat as her face paled as a journalist held up a smartphone screen to the window of the carriage as it passed by.
She would immediately blame him for leaking it even though he had shown no one. Not a living soul. He hadn’t even taken a picture of it. It had been his gift to her. He had given her a part of himself. A part he had given no one else.
Lucca turned away rather than have her seek his face out in the crowd and look at him with searing hatred and disgust. He wouldn’t stay to do any more damage to her or to her family. The only option was to distance himself as soon as he could and hope the scandal would leave the island with him.
‘How could you do this to me?’ Madeleine said sotto voce to Lottie as they assembled out the front of the cathedral. ‘First my twenty-first and now my wedding. What were you thinking?’
Lottie was still reeling from seeing her portrait flashing up on what seemed like a thousand phone screens. How could she stop the scandal from snowballing? It was like a runaway train storming right through the centre of her sister’s wedding day, smashing everything in its way.
But through all the hysteria and mayhem there was a quiet calm place inside her that was certain of one thing—Lucca hadn’t leaked that portrait to the press.
‘There’s nothing to make a fuss about. Keep calm. Keep smiling. Show them nothing is going to spoil your special day.’
Madeleine was close to tears. ‘Did you do it deliberately? You’ve always been jealous of me. Is that why you did it on the most important day of my life?’
‘I didn’t do it,’ Lottie said. ‘And neither did Lucca.’
Madeleine gave a choked sound that skirted on the edge of hysteria. ‘Oh, you stupid girl, of course he did. Why else did he have a fling with you? He wanted a scandal and now he’s got one and it’s ruined my wedding day.’
‘It hasn’t ruined anything.’ Lottie was surprised at how calm and in control she felt now the first shock had passed. What did it matter if her naked body was all over the press? She was proud of how Lucca had painted her. It was a beautiful portrait, an intimate one but not an exploitative one. He had captured her at full maturity, with full consent, not furtively behind her back to laugh about with his friends. It had been his gift to her. He had given her a piece of himself she would always treasure.
But before she could talk to Lucca she had to get her sister up that aisle as planned. She took Madeleine’s arm and led her back to their father, who was waiting patiently to escort his eldest daughter to the altar. ‘We’re going to walk tall into the cathedral and you’re going to concentrate on focusing your attention on Edward.’
‘Your naked body is going to be all over the press instead of my wedding photos!’
‘You look so stunning that even if every bridesmaid and groomsman and the entire congregation stripped naked right here and now no one would notice,’ Lottie said. ‘If you react the way the press want you to it will blow out of all proportion. This is your day. Nothing or no one can spoil it unless you let them. Now, let’s get a move on. We’re already forty minutes behind schedule. Poor Edward will think you’ve jilted him.’
Madeleine took a deep shuddering breath. ‘I suppose you’re right. It’s just … why now? Why not a few days ago when we could’ve done something to hush it up?’
Lottie
