If only she could walk out and go back to the house. But she hadn’t a clue how to get there. She had lost her bearings during the five-minute motorcar trip from St George’s. The cruel words of Veronica and her cronies whirled around her brain, a constant repetition like a phonograph with its needle stuck in the groove. They thought her an unattractive woman whose husband had only married her because he couldn’t be bothered to ‘send her back’ like an unwanted parcel. Their words cut her to the quick – particularly because she recognised some truth in them. Cruel, but possibly accurate. How could she have even entertained the possibility that one day Douglas Barrington might come to care for her? How could she even have any feelings for him herself if this was how he thought of her? She couldn’t possibly love a man who was physically repelled by her. Why hadn’t she overheard their poisonous chatter a day or so sooner, when there had still been a possibility of calling off the wedding? Evie slumped forward, her head in her hands and her heart despairing. The person she missed most right now was her father and, not for the first time, she cursed him for what he’d done to destroy the family, her future and her sense of self.

‘So tell me why the bride is lurking alone in the shrubbery?’

Evie nearly jumped out of her skin.

Arthur Leighton gestured towards the bench. ‘Do you mind if I join you? You look as though you could do with cheering up.’

His kindly tone of voice was too much for her and she felt the tears spring up. She pulled out her handkerchief and blew her nose. ‘I’m sorry. I’m feeling a bit low.’ She looked up at him, and tried to force a smile to her face. ‘Just wedding jitters.’

‘I think it’s a bit more than that isn’t it, Evie?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I happened to hear Veronica and her pals talking. Soon after you apparently overheard them yourself. Knowing that little coven of–’ He hesitated. ‘Well, I can imagine they were doling out some less than complimentary comments.’ He placed one hand on her arm. ‘I’m sorry you were subjected to it. Don’t listen to them, Evie. They’re like that about everyone – even each other. Speaking ill of people is a sport to them – but it’s completely meaningless.’

‘It’s very hurtful actually.’

‘I’ve no idea what you heard them saying but whatever it was it wasn’t true. They make up for their own inadequacies by tearing others apart. You’re just the latest in a long line. I’m ashamed that my wife is one of the culprits, and I’ve long since given up trying to understand why.’

Evie wanted to say that Veronica was not just a culprit, she was the ringleader. But she realised Arthur must be only too aware of that.

He sat with his hands on his knees and she felt calmed and comforted by his proximity. He had nice hands. There was something solid and dependable about Arthur. Straightforward – what you saw and heard was what he meant – no double talking.