Suddenly aware that the best man was watching her again, Helen fisted her hands in her l
ap and made a supreme effort to look casual. She’d never been introduced to him but she assumed that he must be one of Bryony’s two brothers.
And she’d already made a total fool of herself by staring at him as though he were a port in a storm. But there was something about his searching, sympathetic gaze that had drawn her to him and she’d found it hard to look away.
She reminded herself that there had to be a reason why he was staring at her and it wasn’t likely to be complimentary.
She must look like a hospital case.
Helen almost laughed but at the last moment she lifted a hand to her mouth, knowing that if she allowed the sound the freedom it craved, it would have been a sob.
Maybe she was a hospital case.
She felt so wounded that she couldn’t see how she could possibly recover.
Next to her a woman sniffed and rummaged in her bag for a tissue and Helen felt her own tension rise another notch.
No crying.
It was supposed to be OK to cry at weddings, but she didn’t dare. She just knew that if she started she would never be able to stop.
And she wished the best man would stop looking at her. Judging from the keen look in his eyes, he’d guessed that something was wrong.
Either that or Bryony had told him.
Helen gritted her teeth, wishing that the ceremony would be over quickly.
She was not going to cry.
She was not going to be that pathetic.
‘Great speech.’ His brother Tom clapped him on the shoulder and Oliver nodded, distracted.
‘Yeah—I know. I’m a one-man comedy show. Have you seen the girl in the blue suit?’
She had to be here somewhere.
Oliver peered through the crowd of laughing guests, trying to spot her.
‘Why?’ Tom lifted an eyebrow quizzically. ‘Are you interested?’
Yes. Very.
But at the moment he was more worried than interested. He’d somehow missed her in the chaos of photographs at the church and her place had been empty for most of the meal. He needed to satisfy himself that she wasn’t lying in a heap on the floor somewhere.
‘Oliver, you were a lovely best man.’ Bryony approached, her eyes shining with happiness as she stood on tiptoe to kiss him. ‘Why are you looking so serious?’
His eyes slid round the room again. ‘Bry, your friend, Helen…’
Bryony’s smile faded. ‘What about her?’
‘I saw her in the church. She didn’t look good. And now she’s vanished.’
Bryony looked worried. ‘I honestly didn’t expect her to come,’ she confessed, glancing around the room with an anxious expression on her face. ‘I couldn’t believe it when I saw her. I assumed it meant that she was holding up all right.’
‘She wasn’t holding up all right,’ Oliver said flatly. ‘She looked a mess.’
‘That’s why I want you to keep an eye on her for me. She was so devastated by what happened—’ Bryony broke off and shook her head. ‘I just hate the thought of her being on her own in my cottage.’