Thank goodness. Not that she’d had the opportunity to meet the groom herself and put her own fears to rest. Oh, she’d tried, without success, to meet with Lord Greybourne to assess what, if any, last-minute emergency etiquette lessons he might require, but the man had remained as elusive as fog. He’d responded to her trio of calls upon him with a trio of terse notes stating that he was “busy.”
Busy? What on earth could be keeping him so busy he couldn’t take a quarter hour out of his schedule to see her? Busy seeing to his own pleasures, no doubt. Rudeness, that’s all it was.
The cathedral’s clock struck the hour. The ceremony was now scheduled to begin.
And still no sign of the bride.
A cold chill of unease slithered down her spine, a sensation not the least relieved by Lord Hedington striding into the vestibule, his brows bunched into a severe frown. Meredith emerged from the shadows.
“Your grace, are you certain Lady Sarah was feeling well?”
“She claimed she felt fine, but I’m worried, I admit. The chit is never late. Prides herself on her promptness, unlike most females.” He shook his head. “I should never have agreed to come to the church without her, but she was so insistent-” His words broke off, and he heaved a sigh of clear relief. “Here comes the Hedington carriage now. Thank goodness.”