‘Oh, darling, do you miss me? I miss you so much. I’ll be home soon. I love you more than anyone in the world.’
Jackson and Marcel stared at their brother.
‘A ménage à trois?’ Marcel demanded, aghast. ‘You?’
‘Not in a million years,’ Darius declared. ‘I leave those kind of shenanigans to you.’
‘But she was talking to the one she loves more than anyone in the world.’
‘She was talking to her dog,’ Darius said, grinning. ‘She does that a lot. She left him with a friend and she called him as soon as we arrived.’
Jackson nodded. ‘She’s probably had him since she was a child.’
‘No, he belonged to her husband who died a year ago.’
‘Ah!’ Enlightenment settled over Marcel. ‘Then perhaps it is the dead husband whom she loves more than—’
‘Shall we be going?’ Darius interrupted him, knocking. ‘Harriet, are you ready in there?’
‘Coming!’ She opened the door and stood basking in their looks of admiration.
Instantly, Marcel and Jackson extended their hands to her, but Darius stayed firm.
‘Back off, you two,’ he said, drawing her hand into the crook of his elbow. ‘She’s mine.’
And Harriet thought she detected a note of pride in his voice, if only she could allow herself to believe it.
Heads held high, they went downstairs to where the ceremony would take place. It would be a civil ceremony, but the venue had been done up to emulate the grandeur of a church. There were flowers everywhere and chairs laid out in rows, while at the far end a choir was assembling.
It was almost time to begin. Ken took his place and stood waiting, his eyes fixed on the door through which his bride would come.
At last Mary appeared and began to walk slowly towards him. She was magnificently dressed in a long gown of saffron coloured satin, a diamond tiara on her head. Behind her walked Frankie and Mark.
What would Darius be feeling now, she wondered, as his one-time beloved married another man and his children became part of another family? He was between her and the procession, so that his face was turned away, and she could only wonder about his expression. But she guessed it would reveal nothing.
As the children passed she saw that Frankie wore a frilly bridesmaid dress and Mark had a page’s costume, also frilly. How he would hate that, she thought.
As if to confirm it, he glanced up at her and made a face of helpless resignation. She made a face back, conveying sympathy. By chance, Darius happened to turn his head in time to see them both.
‘Poor Mark,’ she murmured.
The procession was slowing down, bringing Mark to a brief halt. Just a couple of seconds but it was enough for Darius to put his hand on his son’s shoulder and grunt, ‘Don’t give up, lad.’
Then they were on their way again, with only the memory of Mark’s look of amazed gratitude at his father.
Slowly, the ceremony advanced until the moment when the bride took her groom’s hand, looking up into his face and saying fervently, ‘You are mine, and I am yours. We will be together for always, and no other man will ever live in my heart.’
Conventional words for a wedding, but how did they sound to the man who had once been her husband? Carefully, Harriet turned her head, hoping to catch a sideways glimpse of his face, only to find it turned towards her. He wasn’t looking at the couple swearing their love. His gaze was fixed on her, and something in it made her turn quickly away.
A few feet away, Amos and his family were seated, their chairs at an angle that enabled Amos to see Darius and Harriet clearly. His eyes narrowed, an expression that Jackson recognised with a sigh and that made him exchange a glance with Marcel.
They knew that look on their father’s face, and it didn’t bode well.
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