Tis the Season to Be Sinful by Adrienne Basso Page A

expression deliberately calm. Juliet had come to like the young man during these past few weeks. She appreciated his assistance and efficiency and would miss him when he took his leave of her after the wedding.
    If there was a wedding.
    “I’m sure Mr. Harper will be here soon,” Mr. Barclay said, consulting his pocket watch for the fifth time in as many minutes.
    “You don’t think he got the date wrong, do you?” Juliet asked. She loathed the tremor in her voice, loathed feeling this sense of panic.
    Mr. Barclay’s eyes widened in horror. “Mr. Harper carefully consults his calendar every day. Several times a day, in fact.”
    Though the answer did little to appease her nerves, Juliet swallowed back the lump of panic. Fifteen more minutes. She would wait fifteen more minutes before calling it off and sending her guests home.
    The seconds seemed like minutes, the minutes hours. The few select guests at last abandoned all pretense of being occupied and waited quietly while Juliet battled to control her wayward thoughts.
    The clock struck the half hour. She sighed, struggling to compose an announcement ending this farce. “Dear friends, I would like to thank you—”
    “He’s here!” Mr. Barclay’s scream of excitement interrupted Juliet’s pitiful statement. Which was just as well, considering she didn’t know precisely what to say.
    A breath swelled up from Juliet’s chest as Richard stormed into the room. “I’m so sorry. That damn train was late again! I knew we should have traveled by coach, but it was raining buckets this morning and George swore the roads would be mud pits.”
    Richard paused to glare at the gentleman following closely behind him. The man returned the look steadily, before glancing around the room. He then leaned forward and lowered his voice. “Calm down, Richard. I believe you are frightening your lovely bride.”
    Juliet eyed the stranger thankfully. His interruption gave her a much-needed moment to marshal her wits and grasp the idea that there truly was going to be a wedding.
    “You were delayed by the train?” she asked, loud enough so the audience of curious onlookers could hear.
    “Blasted thing! I don’t know how the company stays in business, running such an ineffective operation,” Richard concluded with a huff.
    “I suppose you’ll just have to buy the railway and fix it,” Richard’s companion drawled lazily. “But for now there are far more pressing matters to address. Introduce me.”
    Richard placed a hand on the small of Juliet’s back. The warmth of his hand, felt through the fine silk fabric, was oddly comforting. “Juliet, may I present Lord George Moffat. He has agreed to be my groomsman and stand up with me.”
    Juliet executed a graceful curtsy. It was immediately obvious that Lord George was an aristocrat to the bone, from the top of his perfectly styled dark hair to the tip of his exquisite leather shoes. She wondered where he and Richard had met and marveled that they seemed to be genuine friends.
    A hidden depth to this stranger she was about to marry.
    “I apologize again for keeping you waiting,” Richard said in an even tone.
    Juliet nodded, then exhaled slowly, the air shuddering from her lips. She introduced Richard to Reverend Abernathy and they took their places in front of the window. Harriet and Lord George flanked them on either side. The rest of the guests settled into the chairs.
    Juliet snuck a glance at Richard as he stood beside her, but his face was impassive, his eyes shuttered. She clung tenuously to her composure, trying to appreciate how attractive Richard looked in his formal dark suit, with his complexion slightly flushed and his hair a bit mussed.
    Reverend Abernathy cleared his throat. “Shall we begin?”
     
    “I pronounce that you are man and wife. What God has joined together let no man put asunder.”
    It was done.
    At the reverend’s command, Richard turned toward his bride, looking her in the eye for the first