“How could you?”
She turned. Hyacinth St. Clair had crept up behind her and was glaring at her as if she were the very devil.
“You don’t understand,” Lucy said.
But Hyacinth’s eyes blazed with fury. “You are weak,” she hissed. “You do not deserve him.”
Lucy shook her head, not quite sure if she was agreeing with her or not.
“I hope you—”
“Hyacinth!”
Lucy’s eyes darted to the side. Another woman had approached. It was Gregory’s mother. They had been introduced at the ball at Hastings House.
“That will be enough,” she said sternly.
Lucy swallowed, blinking back tears.
Lady Bridgerton turned to her. “Forgive us,” she said, pulling her daughter away.
Lucy watched them depart, and she had the strangest sense that all this was happening to someone else, that maybe it was just a dream, just a nightmare, or perhaps she was caught up in a scene from a lurid novel. Maybe her entire life was a figment of someone else’s imagination. Maybe if she just closed her eyes—
“Shall we get on with it?”
She swallowed. It was Lord Haselby. His father was next to him, uttering the same sentiment, but in far less gracious words.
Lucy nodded.
“Good,” Davenport grunted. “Sensible girl.”
Lucy wondered what it meant to be complimented by Lord Davenport. Surely nothing good.
But still, she allowed him to lead her back to the altar. And she stood there in front of half of the congregation who had not elected to follow the spectacle outside.
And she married Haselby.
“What were you thinking?”
It took Gregory a moment to realize that his mother was demanding this of Colin, and not of him. They were seated in her carriage, to which he had been dragged once they had left the church. Gregory did not know where they were going. In random circles, most probably. Anywhere that wasn’t St. George’s.
“I tried to stop him,” Colin protested.
Violet Bridgerton looked as angry as any of them had ever seen her. “You obviously did not try hard enough.”
“Do you have any idea how fast he can run?”
“Very fast,” Hyacinth confirmed without looking at them. She was seated diagonally to Gregory, staring out the window through narrowed eyes.
Gregory said nothing.
“Oh, Gregory,” Violet sighed. “Oh, my poor son.”
“You shall have to leave town,” Hyacinth said.
“She is right,” their mother put in. “It can’t be helped.”
Gregory said nothing. What had Lucy meant—Because I had to?