C1 The Wrong Bride

Halfway down the aisle, Nora remembered that church doors opened from the inside. She could turn around. The dress was heavy, but she could gather it in both hands and run before anyone understood what she was doing. Her mother looked up from the front row.

Diane Hale had stopped crying, at least. Her eyes were still swollen from the room behind the church, where she had held Nora's hands and said, "Please. Just this once. Help us."

Just this once.

Eight months ago, the Hales had found Nora and told her she was their biological daughter. Eight months of family dinners where she never knew which chair was hers, photographs full of a childhood she had not shared, and careful questions about whether she was "settling in." Today they had known exactly where to put her.

In Vanessa's wedding dress.

Nora kept walking.

At the altar, Julian Vale waited with one hand on a dark cane. Before the crash, his face had been everywhere business news cared to put it. Afterward, the stories changed. Marcus Vale was running the company. Julian rarely appeared in public. One article had called his future uncertain. Vanessa had been less polite.

I can't marry a ruined man. I need time. That message had arrived less than an hour before the ceremony. Then Vanessa had switched off her phone and left everyone else to deal with the guests.

Julian did not match the picture those rumors had built in Nora's head. The injured leg was real; she could see it in the way he stood. So was the cane. But there was nothing vague or defeated about the way he watched her approach.

The music stopped. He held out his hand. For a second Nora stared at it, absurdly aware that Vanessa's gloves were a little too tight across her knuckles. Then she put her hand in his.

His grip steadied hers before she could decide whether she wanted it to.

"Shall we begin?" the officiant asked.

Julian looked at Nora instead. His fingers went to the edge of her veil.

She had spent the walk down the aisle preparing for this part. He would lift it, see the wrong woman, and the room would come apart. Her father would have to explain. Her mother would cry again. Someone would call Vanessa. Someone would blame Nora for not saving a wedding that had already been broken before she put on the dress.

The veil lifted. Julian's hand stopped. Nora did not try to smile. "I'm sorry."

A whisper moved through the first rows. She kept her eyes on him because looking at her parents would be worse. He glanced once toward the front pews, then back at her.

"Continue," he said.

The officiant blinked. "Mr. Vale?"

"You heard me."

Nora almost turned to look behind her. Surely he was speaking to someone else. The officiant cleared his throat and resumed.

The rest of the ceremony came at Nora in pieces. A question. Her own voice answering. Julian's hand taking hers again. A ring meant for Vanessa sliding onto Nora's finger.

When the officiant pronounced them husband and wife, applause started slowly and then filled the church. Cameras flashed from the back. Julian leaned closer. For one ridiculous heartbeat, Nora thought about the kiss everyone expected.

"Smile," he murmured.

Of course.

She managed something that probably looked convincing from twenty feet away. His palm settled lightly at her back, and together they walked down the aisle. Diane's shoulders loosened when Nora passed. Richard Hale gave one small nod, the kind he used when a waiter finally brought something he had ordered.

Nora looked away before either of them could catch her watching. Outside, reporters crowded behind barriers at the bottom of the church steps.

"Mr. Vale, how are you feeling after the wedding?"

"Mrs. Vale, this way!"

"Mr. Vale, are you returning to Vale Group?"

Julian kept moving. Nora tried to keep pace without stepping on a hem that had been fitted for someone else. A reporter leaned too far over the barrier. She shifted away, caught her heel in the skirt, and suddenly had nothing under her balance.

Julian caught her around the waist. It happened fast enough that she grabbed his shoulder after she was already upright.

"Careful."

The reporter who had pushed forward met Julian's gaze and moved back without being told. Nora released his shoulder. He adjusted his cane and continued toward the waiting car. She followed, more puzzled than embarrassed now.

At the car, he opened the rear door. Nora hesitated. A church full of people had felt safer than the quiet black interior.

Julian waited. "Are you getting in?"

Nora gathered the skirt away from the door. "I was considering my options."

His gaze dropped to the curb. "From there?"

That was irritating enough to get her into the car. He joined her, set the cane beside his leg, and shut the door. The shouting outside dropped to a dull blur as the driver pulled away.

Nora folded her hands over the skirt. The ring pressed against one finger every time the car turned. Julian watched the city through the window. She lasted three blocks.

"I can explain."

Julian kept his gaze on the window. "Go ahead."

That was worse than anger. Anger would have given her something to push against.

"Vanessa left this morning. My parents found out right before the ceremony. They…" Nora stopped. Begged sounded weak. Used me sounded dramatic. Both felt true, which was inconvenient. "They asked me to take her place."

"I know."

She turned toward him. "You know she ran?"

Julian nodded once. "Yes."

"My father told you?"

"Not personally." He turned toward her at last.

The answer landed oddly. Nora looked at his profile, waiting for the part that made sense. He finally faced her.

"You can stop trying to decide how to confess this," he said. "I knew the bride had changed before you reached the altar."

Nora forgot the ring, the dress, and the reporters.

"What?"

Julian's expression stayed unreadable.

"Nora Hale," he said, making it impossible to misunderstand. "I knew who you were."