Shockingly, Lady Viva, who was seated in the third pew on the groom’s side for some unknown reason, had yet to do anything to cause a scene. She was dressed in an ostentatious confection of pink and feathers, her expression surprisingly serene for once. Poppy claimed she’d begged her mother to act propitiously, but she also claimed that that never worked.
Georgie had almost smiled at the sight of Lady Viva. Though it figured that she would choose this one day—the day Georgie was counting on her to cause a scene—to sit quietly for once.
But no matter. Georgie intended to carry out her plan with or without Lady Viva’s help.
Georgie exhaled slowly and adjusted her white kid gloves, her pulse beginning to climb.
And it had reason to.
She was about to cause a scandal the likes of which London would not soon recover from.
She took a deep breath. Everything was ready.
It was time.
But Georgie’s thoughts skittered to a halt when she glanced out the door again and caught sight of another figure…
Standing at the back of the church, partially in shadow but unmistakable all the same. Pembroke.
Her breath caught.
What in God’s name was he doing here? Hadn’t he promised to stop following her?
Her heart stuttered, suspicion curling through her.
Why was he watching her like that—sharp-eyed, intent, arms folded as though he were judging the entire proceeding?
“Ah, Pembroke’s arrived,” Henry said. “I thought he’d told me he couldn’t make it.” Her brother pushed himself to a standing position and hobbled out the door with his cane, ostensibly to greet his friend.
Hmm. Georgie remained suspicious. Henry may have admitted to inviting Pembroke, but why had Pembroke accepted? He had better not even consider interfering with her plans.
She forced herself to look away. At the moment, she had bigger problems than Lord Pembroke.
Much bigger. It really was time.
One more breath. And then the music began.
Mother stood, smoothing her gloves against her arms. “Well,” she said coldly. “The next time I see you, you’ll be Lady Henderville, I suppose. Try not to embarrass yourself. Or us.”
Georgie smiled sweetly. “I’ll do my very best, Mama.”
Poppy gave her a quick, panicked glance, then slipped behind her, carrying the little bouquet and trailing a few steps as they stepped into the nave.
Georgie began her slow march out of the room, her gaze fixed somewhere over her father’s shoulder.
Halfway out—just as she and Bea and Poppy had discussed—she faltered slightly, pressing her hand to her temple.
Poppy darted to her side. “Are you all right?” she whispered, loud enough for a few nearby guests to hear.
Georgie gave her the faintest of nods and murmured, “I…I think I just need a moment. Some air…”
Poppy straightened, her expression all anxious concern. “The bride needs a moment,” she announced softly, glancing at Georgie’s father. “If we might…”
Mother’s head snapped toward them instantly, her eyes narrowing.
Georgie caught Bea’s barely concealed smirk in the front pew, just as Georgie pivoted neatly and slid toward the side door. Her skirts whispered over the stone floor, her heart hammering in her chest.
Poppy trailed behind her, glancing nervously back at her mother every few steps.
