Except, of course, he knew that it was potentially only temporary. Isabella didn’t.
But it was only a matter of time before she found out.
* * *
Flynn’s hand felt suddenly cold without Helena’s in it. Curse his mother. Wasn’t it enough that he had to know that he was an unfortunate backup plan without her driving it home that his new bride was in exactly the same position?
It was time to get the focus back where it belonged—on their marriage, rather than the one that hadn’t happened.
‘Is that all the guests in?’ he asked.
‘Finally, yes,’ Helena said with a small hint of a smile, as if she knew what he was trying to do.
‘God only knows how much wine they’ll have got through already.’ Isabella tucked her hand through Thomas’s arm. ‘We’ll go in and take our seats, then the steward can come and announce you. Is your father coming back?’ The last part was added almost as an afterthought, Flynn realised. While Ezekiel might believe this whole day was all about him and his company, as far as Isabella was concerned, this was a social occasion presided over by herself and Thomas. The man she’d never quite left her husband for, but who was more of a husband to her anyway.
Wow, his family was screwed up.
‘I’m sure he’ll come through eventually,’ Flynn said, even though Ezekiel hadn’t even mentioned he was leaving, let alone returning to the festivities. It would be just like his father to spite them all after having his plans meddled with. Flynn was pretty certain that, actually, Ezekiel would be perfectly content with Helena as a daughter-in-law. It was just the fact that he hadn’t been consulted, or had the final say in the matter, that rankled the old man.
Thomas and Isabella made their way through to the dining room and, rather suddenly, Flynn was alone with his wife for the first time since they’d decided to go through with the marriage. No, not the marriage. That still hadn’t been decided, and wouldn’t be until they had a document rather more legally binding than a scrawled-on invitation with the wrong name on the front. The wedding, then. That much, at least, they had certainly gone through with.
That much had paperwork.
‘I’m sorry about that,’ he said apologetically. ‘You know my mother.’
‘Rather too well,’ Helena agreed, and he couldn’t help but smile.
‘Yes, well. How did you cope with your first official event as an Ashton—the receiving line, I mean? It seemed to go pretty smoothly to me.’
‘Yeah, it was fine, mostly. There were a couple of extra-nosy people asking about Zeke—not Thea, of course, that would be too obvious. Your mother and I put them off, for now anyway.’ She sighed. ‘Although I dread to think what sort of questions they’ll be ready to ask after a few too many glasses of champagne.’
She was right, Flynn realised. Sheer politeness might have stopped the bulk of the comments and observations in the church itself, but once the speeches were over all bets would be off.
Which meant the speeches would have to be something quite spectacular, to give them something else to talk about. Or something else to believe, about the way this day had gone.
‘We have to change the story,’ he said, and Helena’s smile turned awkward.
‘You got that from Thea,’ she said when he raised an eyebrow. ‘That’s one of her big PR phrases.’
‘Well, it applies today. We need to change people’s perceptions of what happened here today.’ And quickly, since he could already see the steward coming to fetch them.
‘Like the fact you married the wrong woman?’
‘Exactly that.’
The steward moved to open the door and Helena grabbed Flynn’s arm as she slipped her slim feet back into those bright pink shoes.
‘Any idea how?’ she murmured, as the dining room doors opened and the steward stepped through.
‘One or two,’ Flynn muttered back.
‘Like?’
But then the steward was announcing them as Mr and Mrs Flynn Ashton, and the show was on again. Helena would just have to wait and see. Flynn smiled to himself. Fixing this could be his wedding present to her.
IT WAS HARD not to be a little bitter. Helena had spent weeks choosing the perfect menu for this dinner, along with Isabella and the wedding planner and even Thea when she’d had time. They’d tasted and sampled all kinds of dishes, weighed up the pros and cons of a fish course against a sorbet between courses, and debated the merits of local versus imported cheeses for hours. And now, here she was, sitting right in the middle of the top table—and she’d barely tasted a mouthful of any of the plates put in front of her.
It wasn’t that she didn’t want to eat. She was starving, as it happened. But the very efficiently tied corset laces were starting to make breathing a bit more of an issue than she’d like, and she didn’t want to strain them any more than she had to.
She stared longingly at the dessert in front of her and resigned herself to just a small taste. And to staying away from the champagne. Bubbles always went straight to her head, and on an empty stomach they’d be disastrous. Especially today. Today, she needed all of her faculties about her.
‘Are you okay? You’re looking kind of...pink,’ Flynn asked, leaning in. Helena supposed to the crowds of guests it looked as if he was murmuring sweet nothings in his bride’s ear. Not asking her why her complexion had coloured to match her shoes.
‘It’s the corset. It was okay standing up but now it’s kind of...binding.’ Which it was supposed to be, really. It was just that Helena was so very fond of oxygen. And dessert.
Flynn didn’t answer immediately. Helena glanced up to see his cheeks approaching shoe colour, too. ‘I’m sorry. Do you want me to...?’ He trailed off, waving a hand behind her back.
Helena shook her head. ‘Too late now. It’ll be fine. I just need to make it through the speeches then I’ll escape and find a maid or someone to adjust it.’
‘Just don’t let any of the guests see you.’ Flynn flashed her a quick grin. ‘You’ll have the rumour mill announcing you’re pregnant in no time.’
Pregnant. Of course. Because she was married now. And that was what married women did, wasn’t it? Gave their husbands babies.
Isabella probably wouldn’t even cry and send her away this time.
This time, it wouldn’t be a scandal, a shameful thing. It would be wanted, loved. Kept.
And the fact it might break her heart again still wouldn’t matter.
A waiter reached in to clear her barely touched plate and Helena murmured a thank you, more grateful for the interruption to her thoughts than the service.
‘Time for the speeches next,’ she said, visualising the timetable for the day as she’d seen it on the wedding planner’s clipboard.
‘And your dad’s up first. At least he always makes a good speech.’
Helena stared at him in disbelief, but Flynn appeared utterly unaware of what he’d said. ‘A good speech?’
‘Well, yeah.’ Flynn shrugged. ‘Doesn’t he? I mean, he does all those charity event speaker things, and he always talks well to the board. And I thought he did pretty well last night, at the rehearsal dinner.’
Helena