But what if she was right?
Susan scrambled about until locating the beautiful satin slippers that had been dyed to match her gown and was nudging Felicity back into the chair.
“He might be in danger. Lady Crestwood—”
“Very well. But you cannot leave for the church without shoes. And let me pin this last flower in your hair. When we arrive, I’ll send one of your groom’s handsome friends to check on him. No doubt one is with him now. Isn’t that what those lords who stand up for one another do before the ceremony? Drink whiskey and joke about taking on a ball and chain?”
Felicity knew Susan was only trying to help, but rather than wait for her maid to tie both laces, she leaned over and did the second one herself. “We need to go now!”
The following minutes proved even more frustrating as her mother wasn’t quite ready and insisted on driving over with Felicity and her father.
And every time Felicity thought to voice her suspicions, an irritating voice reminded her that she might very well be wrong.
“Ah, the carriage is out front.” Her father, at least, seemed to appreciate her desire to make a timely arrival.
“One moment,” her mother held out a hand.
“Mother!” After wasting far too much time when her mother realized she didn’t quite like her hat, Felicity all but danced in her seat on the drive over. One more delay, and she might burst into tears.
“You look beautiful.”
“We’re so proud of you.”
Normally Felicity would have basked in her parents’ compliments, but as the carriage painstakingly drove them through Mayfair, all she could think about was Axel’s safety.
What if Lady Crestwood tried poisoning him again?
What if she’d hired another shooter?
Indeed, if something had happened already, somebody would have sent word to her?
Felicity clung to that. As his bride, if he’d been murdered this morning, she most definitely would have been informed.
“So many are here to celebrate today, Felicity!” Her mother commented, peering out of the carriage as it pulled up outside of St. Georges’ Cathedral. Crowds of onlookers milled around the church, there to enjoy the spectacle but also hoping to catch some of the coin traditionally tossed by a lordly groom.
If her father hadn’t prevented her, Felicity would have thrown the carriage door open herself. But he caught her wrist and stared into her eyes.
“Breathe, daughter. There is nothing to worry about. See there? At the top of the stairs? Your future husband’s groomsman is smiling. If something had happened to your viscount, I do not think this would be the case.”
Felicity nodded, holding onto her father’s words while the door was opened, and he ever so slowly exited first.
And then, her mother… who seemed to be doing everything in her power to draw out the pomp of this morning’s ceremony.
By the time Felicity took her father’s arm and was being led to the entrance, perspiration had soaked the inside of her gloves, and she felt dizzy because surely, she wasn’t breathing.
“You’re early,” Lord Greystone greeted them as they stepped inside. “As is your groom. An excellent sign, would you not agree?”
“Indeed, it is,” her father answered.
But Felicity could hardly keep from swooning. “Is he alone?” she asked.
“Blackheart was with him last I checked.”
The duke.
He would be safe with the duke—his sparring partner.
“Wait in here, darling.” Her mother drew Felicity out of sight and into a small room set off from the entrance. “We don’t want the guests seeing you before the ceremony. You wait here while I allow Lord Greystone to escort me to my seat. Your father will collect you when it’s time.”
