Gorgeous Grooms: Her Stand-In Groom / Her Wish-List Bridegroom / Ordinary Girl, Society Groom. Jackie Braun
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it, and he seemed all the more menacing because of it.
“This isn’t your concern, cousin. It’s a simple misunderstanding between Catherine and me. We don’t require your interference.”
“I’ll be the one to decide that.”
Stephen stepped between them, forcing Derek to break his hold on her arm.
Catherine expelled a breath, still too stunned to believe what had just occurred. Over Stephen’s shoulder she stared at Derek, feeling as if she were truly seeing him for the first time. There was no denying he was a beautiful man, with sun-kissed hair and eyes a clear crystal-blue. Had all that physical perfection and his considerable charm somehow blinded her to the ugliness she now saw in his sneering visage?
He glared first at Stephen and then at her, and she could not help but recall the story of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, for he seemed so different from the man who had swept her off her feet with words of love and eyes full of adoration.
At last something—manners? breeding?—resurrected itself. His tone hushed, he said, “Have it your way, cousin. I don’t really need her anyway.”
Need? What an odd way to put it. Before Catherine could puzzle through what he meant by that strange and hurtful statement, he was calling out, “The wedding is off. Catherine and I regret the inconvenience to you all and thank you for your understanding. Please accept our apologies.”
The church erupted in full-fledged conversations now. The talk was no longer library-quiet but ball-game-loud, as guests traded speculation about the doomed couple.
Stephen lingered beside Catherine after Derek had stalked away, although he looked uncomfortable to be there.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
She nodded stiffly, even as her heart seemed to shatter into a million jagged pieces.
“I got a note telling me to meet Derek here for a surprise. I thought maybe he’d bought me a gift, something he wanted me to wear down the aisle. Instead, I found him…”
She sucked in a breath, still not quite able to believe what she had witnessed. All that passion, and for a virtual stranger. Had she ever inspired that kind of excitement in her prospective groom? Had she ever felt it in return? Those questions as much as Derek’s infidelity forced a sob from her lips. She covered her mouth, muffling another.
“Can I get someone for you? Your mother, perhaps?”
“Dear God!” It came out half-sob, half-hysterical laugh. “Why don’t you just dump me over the rail along with my bouquet?”
Her mother was probably hyperventilating at this point. And her poor father had probably fainted dead away after realizing they’d just blown hundreds of thousands of dollars, much of it non-refundable, on a wedding that would never take place. At least he would have all that twelve-year-old Scotch to commiserate with. For a daughter who had spent a lifetime trying to please her difficult parents, she’d certainly made a mess of things.
“I’ll take that as a no.” A ghost of a smile hovered on his lips.
They were nice lips, a little fuller than most men’s, softening the otherwise hard lines of his face. Catherine could only recall having half a dozen conversations with Stephen, all of them about polite, neutral topics. The cousins didn’t share the same interests or circle of friends, but whenever she did spend time in his company, or whenever she ran into him while visiting Derek at the Danbury building, she found herself undeniably drawn to Stephen.
She sensed a sadness about him, a loneliness that she always assumed resulted from losing his mother and father as a boy and being raised by his stodgy grandparents. It was in Catherine’s nature to soothe, to nurture, to comfort. That was the source of the odd attraction, she’d told herself when she’d first begun to feel it. Now, with her emotions reeling, she wasn’t so sure. In fact, she wasn’t sure of anything.
He cleared his throat, and she realized she had been staring at him.
Summoning up her manners, Catherine said, “Thank you for what you did just now. I don’t know what came over Derek, grabbing my arm that way.”
“Did he hurt you?”
Her arm ached, but she resisted the urge to rub it. “No, not really,” she lied. “I hope there won’t be a strain between the two of you because of this?”
Again that enigmatic smile lurked, although this time she thought he seemed a little resigned. “I’m sure this won’t change a thing.”
“Well, thank you anyway.”
Stephen watched her leave, spilling out the train of white silk as she walked down the stairs. He knew from his aunt’s endless chatter that the gown was an original, designed especially for this bride. The small pearl buttons that ran the length of Catherine’s slender spine were the real thing, as were the tiny pearls that edged the neckline. He wondered if it disappointed Catherine that no one would see its beauty this day as she glided down the aisle on her father’s arm. He knew it would most women of her sort.
Debutante. The word alone left a sour taste in his mouth. Admittedly, his opinion of Catherine was colored by his opinion of his cousin. Any woman who would consent to marry Derek surely had to be as shallow and self-centered as he. Still, Stephen was glad she’d discovered what kind of man her prospective groom really was before making a lifetime commitment. Stephen’s regard for her had jumped several notches, watching her dump Derek just before the “I dos” were exchanged. She had literally lost a fortune by doing so, regardless of the prenuptial agreement she had signed.
Downstairs, people were already streaming from the pews, many of them heading straight for her, with pity pinching their mouths into thin smiles. Stephen felt a twinge of it for her as well. No one should be forced to listen graciously to trite and in some cases insincere condolences right after what Catherine had been through. But as he watched her summon up what he thought of as her serene society expression he knew she would handle this with her usual cool grace. That was what debs did, and Catherine Canton did it better than most.
Turning, he saw his aunt heading in his direction, high heels clicking on the tile floor. If not for the Botox injections Marguerite Bledsoe Danbury had had to reduce the wrinkles on her forehead and around her eyes, he knew she would be scowling. But the injections had frozen her face into an eerie mask of youthful blankness. Add to that the signature red hair, which she wore longer than most women her age, and a figure that had been liposuctioned and tucked to trimness, and she appeared a good fifteen years younger than her fifty-nine years.
“A word with you, please,” she said when she reached him. Snagging Stephen’s sleeve, she led him to a corner, which provided a modicum of privacy.
“Where is Derek?” Despite that bland expression, her eyes burned with fury.
“I haven’t seen him since he left the choir loft,” Stephen replied. He’d bet his inheritance his cousin was long gone, leaving it to others to clean up his latest mess. His aunt must have reached that conclusion, too.
“There are a dozen reporters and photographers, most of them tabloid, hanging around outside, waiting for a shot of the new Mrs. Danbury. I want Catherine out of here. Now.”
Her first concern, as always, was herself. The young woman who would have become her daughter-in-law was now merely a liability to be dealt with.
“I’m sure her parents will take her home.”
“See that they do.”
It was not a request but a command. Marguerite never asked Stephen for anything. She made demands and expected her demands to be met without question or complaint. Stephen acceded to her wishes, even though he thought Catherine might have had enough of the Danburys for one day. Still, he’d rather she had to face him than his aunt.
He heard Catherine’s voice as he approached the bride’s room. The emotion he’d detected earlier, when he’d overheard her conversation with