Sophie Pembroke - His Very Convenient Bride

‘I like the pink ones,’ she said, partly just to annoy her new mother-in-law.

‘So do I, actually,’ Flynn said, standing beside her, and she flashed him a huge smile. Maybe this was why people got married—to have someone on their side when they had to deal with their parents. She’d heard of worse reasons.

Thomas, with a weary sigh, lowered himself into an armchair at the edge of the hallway. ‘I suppose we should have known. It’s not like she didn’t have form. I wonder where they are now.’ He stared out of the open front door as he spoke and Helena couldn’t help but follow his gaze.

‘Zeke and Thea?’ Isabella asked. ‘God only knows. Probably off somewhere trying to find new ways to destroy our family.’

‘They were in love,’ Helena said, without even realising she planned to say it. ‘They wanted to be together. And we thought...well, we thought this was the best option. Flynn and I.’ She reached for him blindly, relieved when Flynn grabbed her hand and held it tight.

‘We did,’ he agreed. ‘Still do, actually.’

Isabella studied her so intently that Helena stared at her toes to avoid her gaze. Her pedicure was the exact same colour as her shoes, she realised with pleasure. She almost wanted to point it out to her mother-in-law, to prove that she was good at details, too.

‘Maybe you were right,’ Isabella said finally. ‘It might all be for the best. At least you’re less likely to make a dramatic scene than your sister. If it hadn’t been for Thea’s place in the company...well, I might have suggested to Ezekiel that he pick you for Flynn instead. I said as much to Thea, actually. So I suppose she knew she had a stand-in, if she needed it.’

‘Mother,’ Flynn said, the hint of warning in his voice enough to make Isabella stop talking.

But it couldn’t stop the icy fingers that crept up the back of Helena’s neck at her words. She tugged her hand free from Flynn’s. It wasn’t just Isabella making it perfectly clear that Helena was second choice, a last resort. She already knew that, thanks. But had Thea really known what would happen? Helena thought not. But it seemed, however cross Ezekiel might be, Isabella wasn’t too disappointed with this turn of events. Why would she be? She got a docile, eager to please wife for her son. Flynn had probably been overjoyed when she’d suggested it.

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.

CHAPTER THREE

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 shook her head. ‘No wonder Thea slept with Zeke,’ she muttered. After listening to their father’s speech about her the night before—including, amongst other things, a line about how glad he was that, by agreeing to marry Flynn, Thea had finally made a decision in her personal life as good as the ones she made in business—even Helena had been ready to flee the room. And Flynn hadn’t even noticed that his fiancée might have been a bit upset.

She wondered what little gems Dad would have in store for her. Assuming that he’d taken the time to rewrite it from his original speech, as planned for Thea. He might not. They seemed fairly interchangeable to him today—neither one of his daughters living up to what he wanted or expected from them.

She didn’t have to wait long to find out. The moment the last of the plates were cleared, Thomas Morrison was on his feet, carefully clinking the silverware against a champagne flute.

‘Ladies and gentlemen, friends and family, welcome—welcome to you all!’ Thomas smiled broadly around at the assembled company, and Helena wondered exactly how much of the champagne he’d had that afternoon.

‘On this very special day, I’d like to thank you all for travelling to be with us, not just on my own behalf, but on behalf of my dear old friends, Ezekiel and Isabella, too. I know that they feel, as I do, that this day would not have been so magical without all of you here to share it.’

Pause for applause. Flynn did have a point, although she’d never admit as much. Her father knew how to play a crowd.

It was just a shame he didn’t know how to make his own daughters feel as special.

‘This day, this joining of our two families, has been long coming, and long desired. Not just for the obvious reasons of business—although I know several of you very pleased to see your stocks and shares safe for another generation!’ Laughter, mostly from a table of middle-aged men in pinstriped suits with much younger wives towards the back of the room. ‘No, I have far greater reasons for wanting to see our families irrevocably linked.’