‘And Sally definitely l
ikes her luxury. She’s not going to put up with some poky cottage even if she is deliriously happy at the prospect of being a countess.’
‘Good thinking,’ said Edward.
He got out of the car and started walking, his eyes scanning the street. Finally they saw a black and white manor house, approached by a long drive.
‘What about here?’ he asked as Georgia read the sign – Gretna Hall.
‘I bet this is the grandest place in the village,’ she agreed.
They went inside and peered into the dining room, where couples were beginning to collect for breakfast. But there was no sign of Sally and Gianni.
Edward approached the receptionist and asked if Sally Daly was staying with them.
The man at the desk looked hesitant.
‘We do value the privacy of our guests here,’ he said diplomatically in a gentle Scots accent.
‘In which case, can I have two rooms?’ Edward requested, getting out his wallet.
‘Are we going to stake out the hotel?’ asked Georgia, with a slight nagging disappointment that he had requested two rooms.
‘We need to find Sally, and then I don’t know about you, but I need to sleep.’
She looked at his handsome face, dark shadows forming moon-shaped circles beneath his eyes, and felt a spike of affection that he had done this for her. For Sally, she reminded herself.
‘We should sit in the breakfast room and see if they come down,’ he said.
‘That’s if they’re here.’
They took a table by the window and ordered some smoked mackerel.
Georgia’s eyes drifted outside and she saw a couple strolling hand in hand across the lawns.
‘I don’t believe it. It’s them,’ she said, jumping out of her seat. ‘Are you coming?’
‘I think this is a conversation you need to have with Sally alone.’
Georgia ran out of the hotel towards her friend, who looked startled as she approached.
‘Georgia. What the hell are you doing here?’
‘Looking for you,’ she gasped. ‘Your family are frantic. You can’t do this. Have you done it?’
She looked at Gianni sternly.
‘Could I talk to my friend alone for a minute?’
Gianni glanced at Sally, who nodded. He squeezed her hand and walked back towards the hotel.
Georgia could barely get her words out quickly enough.
‘Don’t marry him,’ she pleaded. ‘Don’t step anywhere near the anvil with this man. That’s what happens, isn’t it? A blacksmith can marry you right here, right now. Well, don’t do it, because I have something to say.’
‘We can’t get married today,’ said Sally quietly. ‘We thought we could, but the rules have changed and we have to wait over two weeks. That’s fine, though, because this is what I want to do, George.’
‘No you don’t,’ Georgia said, not even having time to register the relief that Sally was not yet married. ‘There’s something you should know. Gianni is not a count. He’s a bus boy at a London hotel and he’s been gatecrashing parties with his friend to hook up with pretty, wealthy girls. Don’t marry him. He’s after your money, and even though you probably think you’re happy, this is all just going to make you horribly miserable.’