Dane didn’t say a word, but a corner of his mouth twisted into a sardonic smile. He turned away and walked past the housekeeper.
“Miss?” the housekeeper said in a normal voice, like this was an everyday scene.
“Can you please take care of him? He’s drunk.”
“Of course,” she said at the same time Salazar muttered, “I’m rilly not.”
“Just hush.” Sophia got up and went to the hall. Dane was gone, probably already in his suite.
She dropped her head back, suddenly too tired to care. What did it matter what he thought? It was over anyway.
There was nothing between them anymore.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Sophia rubbed gritty eyes and grimaced at the bright morning light. That would teach her to stay up late with a glass of scotch.
She rolled out of bed and took a look at herself in the bathroom mirror. Ugh. At least she had the help of some excellent foundation and concealer. When she was finished, it looked like she’d had a good night’s sleep. She went to Salazar’s bathroom door and carefully put her ear to it.
Nothing from the other side.
Should she go wake him up? On the other hand, did she want another scene?
If he wasn’t up in the next thirty minutes, she’d send housekeeping to check on him.
Her mind made up, she pulled her hair into a bun and put on a mint-green dress and matching flats. The shopper who’d brought the outfit had also thought of a pale cream-colored hat with a wide brim. Thank god.
The clock on the wall said thirty minutes had passed. Straightening her spine, she knocked on Salazar’s door. When there was no response, she tried again, then waited a moment before opening it a crack.
The room was empty.
Huh. Guess he was up before I was.
She put the hat on and went outside. Normally she hated skipping breakfast, but eating would mean facing the Pryce family. She wouldn’t be able to have more than a couple of bites anyway.
White ribbons and orchids formed an arch under which the couple was to stand. The rows of seats set up for the guests were all in a matching satin. A quartet tuned their instruments on a platform by the altar. A couple of staff were rolling out a thick, white carpet to create the virgin road.
Everything was classy and elegant. Sophia had never been to a wedding, but as she looked around she thought, When I get married, I want one like this.
Soon the quartet started playing music, and guests began to file in. Iain’s fiancée Jane pulled Sophia over to the groom’s side. A gorgeous burgundy raw silk dress hung from her delicate shoulders and ended a couple of inches above her knees. Unlike Sophia, Jane was wearing her curled brown hair down and had on a pair of stilettos.
“Love your shoes,” she said.
Sophia smiled and ventured a “Thanks”. Given how people had been the night before, she couldn’t tell if Jane was being sincere or sarcastic.
“I’d kill for flats, but Josephine said I had to wear heels.”
“Josephine?”
“Maid of Honor today and Fashion Gestapo every day. She despises flats.” Jane sighed longingly. “She has to look good to maintain the image and all, but I’m a cook. You know what I mean?”
“Grass is always greener on the other side. I wish I could wear heels.”
“Then why don’t you?”
“Bad joints.”
“Ooh, that’s awful.” Sympathy softened Jane’s eyes.
Sophia smiled, the tension leaving her. “It’s overwhelming, isn’t it?” She gestured around.
“Can you believe it’s only for the inner circle?”
Sophia raised her eyebrows at the expensively tuxedoed men and gowned women. “There has to be at least three hundred people.”
Jane nodded. “And Hilary didn’t even invite her family.”
“Wow.”
“Mine’s going to be bigger, I think,” Jane said. “I really want a small ceremony though.”
“We can have a small one.” Iain sat down next to Jane. The black tux fit him like a glove. “I’ll drop-kick anyone who tries to crash.”
Jane giggled, flipping her hair over a shoulder as she turned to face him. He kissed her knuckles. The gesture was so natural and innocent, but the look in his eyes made it almost too intimate for public consumption.
Sophia glanced away, then noticed Salazar sitting with Ceinlys. He looked great in his tux, but he didn’t smile much. For a man who’d drunk so much scotch he’d almost passed out, he appeared perfectly fine. No trembling, no dark circles under his eyes. His mouth was set in a flat line, but it only made him appear solemn and distinguished rather than grim.
Ceinlys on the other hand sported a serene smile and wore a fitted deep blue dress that accentuated her feminine beauty. A dainty hat with netting sat over her dark hair. Her flawless makeup brought out her eyes, and juicy lip-gloss glistened on her lips. How could she be the mother to five full-grown children? Betsy was pretty too, but she was nothing compared to Ceinlys, who was far older but looked much more youthful and beautiful.