Granger nodded, though even he could not know the extent of the relief Harrison felt in not seeing Richard here this morning. There was no certainty that he would not creep in and take a seat in the back, or somehow appear later despite Harrison giving him no details. If he had put forth any effort into discovering the name of the bride, the date of the wedding, or its location, Richard could have done so without much difficulty.

It was only by a stroke of luck that, thus far, his own poor habits had allowed him to follow Harrison’s wishes. Time would tell if it continued as such throughout the day.

And if Harrison’s sense of time was in any way accurate, his wedding should have already begun by now.

“Is it always annoying?” Harrison asked aloud. “Waiting for your bride.”

“Always,” Granger affirmed without hesitation. “But not this annoying. You grow accustomed to it.”

Harrison sniffed, more miffed than truly annoyed by the situation. After all, he reminded himself, the wedding was for the bride’s pleasure, not the bridegroom’s.

And it seemed it was his bride’s pleasure that this marriage begin on her terms regardless of how it would affect or impact anyone else. Especially him.

Well played, Miss Dyer.

Harrison shook his head, smiling to himself.

“What?” Granger demanded, catching the smile. “What is so amusing?”

“She’s been quiet the last two weeks,” Harrison told him softly, the humor in the situation growing by the moment. “Not softer in attitude or spirit, only quiet. Less venomous in her spite. I wondered if she had come round to the idea of this marriage, perhaps even of me. But no, she’s simply been biding her time and learning a better way to provoke me. I have no doubt she will be a beautiful bride, and I will pay dearly for it, but no one in this church will ever suspect that she is anything less than pleased with what is about to take place.”

“And that is amusing because…?”

Harrison looked at him, smiling fully now. “Because nothing has changed. She’s still angry, still venomous, still stubborn, and now the only one who knows that will be me. Or, at least, the one who knows it best.”

Granger’s brow creased, his expression bewildered. “Still not finding the amusement.”

“Don’t you see? She’s all but ensuring this marriage will be a success. She has decided that the show she so loves to put on must now be one of contentment and satisfaction.” Harrison chuckled, looking back toward the front of the church and shaking his head. “She’s going to be the perfect Lady Basset if it kills her.”

“She might kill you,” Granger pointed out. “If her spite is the same as it ever was and now only for your eyes and ears, you may suffer a very great deal.”