He assisted her from the carriage. A small hopeful crowd had gathered; a society wedding was always of interest to the hoi polloi, and grooms were known to share the largesse on happy occasions. People stared at George and made audible comments: “Red for a wedding?” “Never heard of such a thing.” “Looks a right jezebel, she does.”

Rose and Lily hurried forward, looking shocked and dismayed. “George, what on earth—”

Too late now. George hurried up the steps. “Now I know why you refused our help dressing,” Rose muttered as she and Lily arranged the skirt into graceful folds. “You look gorgeous—but you have to know what a stir it’s going to cause. What on earth were you thinking, George?” Rose was thinking about the duke’s last wedding, which had ended in disaster. She probably still felt a bit guilty about that. Well, that wasn’t George’s problem.

Lily just looked at her and shook her head. “I hope the duke won’t be too angry.”

“I’m here, aren’t I?” George said. “Come on, Cal, let’s get this over with.”

“Says the blushing bride,” Cal said sardonically.

“Oh, she’s not blushing,” Rose pointed out dryly. “It’s just the reflection of that dress.”

*   *   *

The church was cold. High summer and yet the chill sank into Hart’s bones. His cravat was too tight. He ran his finger around it, hoping to loosen it. It didn’t help.

His stomach felt hollow. Had he eaten? He couldn’t remember.

The bishop, in his magnificently embroidered crimson and gold robes, moved around the altar. It was the same fellow who’d presided over the debacle that had been Hart’s last wedding. The man’s frequent darting glances at Hart showed he remembered.

Hart was just as restless. He took a deep breath and eased a finger once more between his throat and his collar.

“For goodness’ sake, if you fiddle with that one more time, you’ll ruin the so beautiful arrangement of your cravat,” Sinc said. “Stop worrying. She’ll be here soon enough.”

“I know that. I’m not the least bit worried,” Hart said stiffly. He’d pushed her into this marriage. Would she panic at the last minute and bolt? “She’ll be here,” he said, as much to reassure himself as Sinc.

Sinc laughed softly. “Can’t fool me. You’re as nervous as a cat on a sinking ship. Understandable, given what happened last t—”

“I. Am. Not. Nervous,” Hart said in a low, vehement voice.

“Of course you’re not,” his friend said in a tone that was intended to be soothing but instead made Hart want to throttle him. “If it helps, I made another bet on her.”

Hart turned wrathfully toward him. “You what?”