she returned her tea things to the trolley, she casually picked up the coronet and carried it over to the French windows, as if to examine it more closely.
‘Oh, do be careful.’ Mrs Rawlins’ voice followed her. ‘As I’ve said, one of the stems is very fragile.’
‘So it is, but I’m sure I can fix that,’ Rhianna said brightly, as her fingers discovered that the stem in question had actually become partly detached from the base.
Well, I’m already the least favourite guest, she thought, so what have I to lose? And she gave it a sharp and effective tweak, before gasping loudly in dismay and turning contritely back to the owner.
‘Oh, heavens, it’s come off altogether now.’ Her voice quivered in distress. ‘I’m terribly sorry, Mrs Rawlins. I can’t believe I could be so clumsy.’
‘Let me see it at once.’ Margaret Rawlins was on her feet, her face furiously and unbecomingly flushed. ‘Perhaps it can be repaired.’
‘I doubt it very much.’ Diaz had risen too, unexpectedly, and was crossing to Rhianna’s side, taking the mutilated object from her hand. ‘It looks seriously broken to me. But it’s probably better for this to happen now instead of during the ceremony. That would have been really embarrassing.’ The smile he turned on the agitated Mrs Rawlins was charm personified. ‘Don’t you agree?’
‘I suppose so,’ the older woman returned after a pause, lips compressed. ‘But I don’t know what Simon will say when he hears.’
Rhianna stared down at the carpet, as if abashed, her long lashes veiling the sudden flare of anger in her eyes. Simon, she thought grimly, has other things on his mind to worry about.
Fussily, Mrs Rawlins picked up the box with the veil. ‘You had better take this upstairs, Caroline—before there’s another accident,’ she added, with a fulminating glance at Rhianna.
‘Yes,’ Carrie said without enthusiasm. ‘Yes, of course.’ She glanced appealingly at Rhianna, who picked up the cue and immediately followed her.
‘You’re a star,’ Carrie said simply, tossing the box onto the bed in her room. ‘But what the hell am I going to do with a thousand yards of dead white tulle when I’m wearing ivory satin? Look.’
The dress was lovely, Rhianna thought instantly as it was removed from its protective cover and displayed. A simple Empire line sheath, needing no other adornment but Carrie’s charming figure inside it.
She considered. ‘What flowers are you wearing in your hair?’
‘Roses,’ Carrie said. ‘Gold and cream, like my bouquet.’ She took the veil from the box and lifted it up. ‘But they won’t be substantial enough to hold a weight like this.’
‘Then we’ll just have to make it manageable.’ Rhianna paused. ‘Got a sharp pair of scissors handy?’
‘Oh, God,’ said Carrie. ‘What are you going to do?’
‘Cement my reputation as the arch-vandal of the western world,’ Rhianna told her cheerfully. ‘Simon’s mother will never speak to me again, of course, but that’s a small sacrifice to make.’
Besides, she would have far more powerful reasons to hate me—if she knew…
She took the veil from Carrie and placed it on her own head, studying herself in the full-length mirror. ‘Heavens, it swamps me—and I’m taller than you. However, if we just use one layer we’ll be able to see your hair through the tulle, and the flowers will help too, of course. Besides, if I’m careful, it can all be sewn back together afterwards,’ she added, grinning, and gave Carrie an encouraging push towards the door. ‘Now—scissors and sewing kit.’
Left alone, she picked up the dress with immense care and held it in front of her to see the whole effect. She’d use the veil’s shortest tier, she thought, as it would only reach Carrie’s shoulders and therefore wouldn’t detract from the lovely simplicity of the dress itself.
At least she hoped so. After all, she’d had enough costumes practically re-made on her to know what worked and what didn’t, she thought drily.
Then paused, staring at herself, suddenly stricken, as she asked herself what she was doing. Why was she taking this trouble over a wedding that shouldn’t even be happening? How she could be helping her friend marry a man who had already betrayed her so terribly?
Especially when there was no guarantee that it would never occur again, she thought bitterly. That Simon would suddenly become repentant and faithful.
But he was the husband Carrie had always wanted—had set her heart on from young girlhood. Had waited for. And this wedding was going to be the culmination of all her sweetest dreams.
The image in the mirror was suddenly blurred. Rhianna lifted a hand and quickly wiped away her tears before they could fall on the precious satin. Besides, she thought she heard a movement in the passage outside, and she couldn’t risk Carrie coming back to catch her weeping.
Nor could she take the dream of her friend’s whole life and smash it. She would have to keep the secret. Pretend she had no idea there had been a hidden love affair. No baby so soon and so finally eliminated from the equation.
And no dream for me, either, she told herself, pain twisting inside her as she put the dress gently back on its padded hanger and covered it.
Out of all that had happened, she thought, that was the hardest thing to bear. Knowing that she had nothing left to hope for.
And having to live with that knowledge for the rest of her life.
IT OCCURRED to Rhianna that an excuse to stay out of harm’s way in her room was exactly what she’d needed, giving her a chance to catch her breath and regain some of her composure.
Working with immense care, she’d reduced the mass of tulle by two thirds, and the discarded lengths, their raw edges neatly hemmed, were back in the box.
Carrie was reluctantly reconciled to the idea of the shortened version, and by the time Simon’s mother discovered what had been done it would be too late. Although the fact that the veil could be subsequently reconstituted in all its voluminous glory might mollify her a little.
Whatever, thought Rhianna. Carrie and I will be long gone anyway, so she’ll have to fulminate alone.
But now the time was fast approaching for the next ordeal—a quiet dinner at home with the family. Including, of course, the master of the house.
‘The big party’s tomorrow evening,’ Carrie had told her happily. ‘At the Polkernick Arms. We’ve practically taken the place over.’
Her face had clouded slightly. ‘But Simon can’t be with us tonight. His godfather and his wife are travelling down from Worcestershire a day early, and Margaret’s insisted that he spends the evening at home with them.’
Rhianna had given an inward sigh of relief. At some point, sooner or later, she and Simon would have to face each other,
