Page 274 of Depraved Boys

Despite everything he had said to reassure me of Geraldine’s willingness to marry, a boulder of dread rolled through my belly.

Cormac reached for his door handle, but I clutched at his wrist. He turned around, brows drawn. “What’s wrong?”

“I have a feeling that something bad will happen if you go through those doors.”

He patted me on the hand. “If you’re worried about an ambush, don’t. This is a respectable institution, and nothing like what happened to Ashley will take place here.”

“But what if—”

“Willow.” Annoyance flickered across his face. “I’m sorry for giving you such a hard time at the start of term and for blaming Kashaayah for Corrine’s death, but Geraldine isn’t them. She’s not the type of person who will fabricate a relationship just to enjoy breaking a vulnerable person’s heart.”

The words hit like a slap, and my mouth dropped open. I would have laid into him, but there was no point. The only way for Cormac to stop seeing Geraldine through rose-tinted glasses was for her to personally rip them off.

I closed my mouth and blew out a long breath through my nostrils. “Let’s go.”

Cormac turned, opened his door and stepped out. I followed after him with an apology on my lips, but I held my tongue. If Geraldine turned up at the venue and went through the wedding, I would eat a bowlful of humble pie and grovel. We walked together in silence into the building, where a blonde receptionist smiled at us from behind her desk.

“Good morning, sir and madam,” she said in a soft, Scottish accent. “Where can I direct you this morning?”

“I’m here for the Gibbons-Hill wedding. It’s in the Rennison room.”

“Gibbons-Hill…” The receptionist flipped open a leather book and drew her fingers down the hand-written entries. “I don’t have anyone of that name for today.”

Chest tightening, I turned to Cormac to hug him, but he scowled and lurched across the desk.

“It’s at nine.” He turned the book around and scanned the appointments. When he wasn’t satisfied with what he saw on the double-page spread, he flipped to the one before and skipped two pages ahead, as though that might make a difference.

The receptionist scraped back her chair and placed her hand over her heart. “You might have the wrong date, sir. Could you call—”

“No!”

She jumped out of her seat, but quickly composed herself. “Is the venue booked under another name?”

Cormac drew back from the reception desk and smoothed down his suit. “Sorry.” He gave his head a quick shake, as though vesting himself of the temporary outburst. “That’s probably it. Could you try Byrd, please?”

Inching forward, I placed a hand on Cormac’s arm. “Bianca wouldn’t have booked your wedding. She asked me to pig you at the start of last term, remember?”

“There has to be another explanation,” he whispered.

“Why don’t we take a walk and get some fresh air?” Wrapping my arm around Cormac’s slender bicep, I shot the woman an apologetic look.

The smile she gave me was one part-worry and three-parts relief. As I pulled Cormac back to the entrance, she reached for her phone and dialed a number. Hopefully, it wasn’t to inform security or the police. Cormac was the victim here, not her.

Outside the venue to the left stood an old-fashioned tea room with tables and chairs in front. Since it wasn’t quite yet nine o’clock, they hadn’t opened up the parasols in the middle of the tables.

“Let’s have a sit-down and work things out,” I murmured.

With an absent nod, Cormac followed me to the tea room and sat at one of the round, wooden tables. He bowed his head and stared into his shaking hands.

“I couldn’t have been pigged,” he said between panting breaths. “It’s usually a public affair with evidence and camera phones.”

Maybe after the incident with Ashley and her subsequent revenge, they had moved on from pigging to a jilting. I said nothing, not wanting to upset him further with useless speculations, and wrapped my arms around him in a hug.

“Sorry,” I said.

“You warned me time and time again,” he muttered. “But I was too love-struck to listen.”

I swallowed. The ironic part was that when we’d first met, he had told me that the girls were bigger players of the game than the boys. But I kind of understood how he would cling to the belief that Geraldine’s affection was genuine. Those with beautiful exteriors seldom noticed ordinary-looking people, regardless of their intelligence or inner beauty.