The Substitute Bride

Chapter Two: The Man Waiting at the Altar

The music had faded to almost nothing, drowned out by the pounding in Lydia's ears. The aisle stretched ahead, blurred by the tears gathering in her eyes, and each step felt heavier than the last, as if the white dress had turned to chains around her ankles.

Hundreds of eyes followed her. Some guests looked curious, some confused, and a few whispered openly behind carefully manicured hands. She knew exactly what they were thinking. That isn't Vivian Hart.

Lydia kept her gaze on the man waiting at the end.

Lucian Vale stood beneath the enormous floral arch with one hand tucked into his trouser pocket. His black tuxedo fit perfectly, his dark hair lay neatly in place, and his expression was so calm that she almost disliked him for it. Her whole life had been upended in less than an hour, and he looked as though nothing had happened.

She stopped in front of him. Neither spoke. The priest glanced between them, plainly uncomfortable, and then Lucian tilted his head toward her and pitched his voice low enough that only she could hear.

"So they sent you."

Lydia tightened her grip on the bouquet and swallowed. "I didn't want this."

"I know."

The answer surprised her. "You know?"

"I knew Vivian wasn't coming before you walked through those doors."

Her heart dropped. "You knew?"

A thin, flat smile touched his lips. "Of course I knew."

She hadn't managed another question before the priest cleared his throat. "Mr. Vale, Ms. Hart. Shall we go on?"

Lydia looked toward her parents. Her mother was crying, and her father wouldn't meet her eyes. There was no turning back now. She faced Lucian again. "If you don't want to marry me, just say so."

His expression changed for the first time, and it wasn't tenderness or regret. It was something colder. "I agreed to marry a Hart," he said. "Which one stands beside me changes nothing."

A painful knot formed in her throat. "So you don't care at all."

He stared at her. "No."

He said it quietly, and it hurt more than shouting would have. Lydia lowered her eyes. "Then let's finish this."

The ceremony went on, and she spoke her vows in a voice that shook. When the rings came, Lucian took his from the priest. His fingers brushed hers for only a second, yet she nearly flinched. The ring was beautiful, a large diamond circled by smaller stones, and it must have cost more than everything she owned. He slid it onto her finger, and it felt strangely heavy.

Then came the final words. "You may kiss the bride."

Lydia froze. She hadn't considered this. She looked at Lucian, whose face gave nothing away. He bent toward her and, instead of her lips, kissed her forehead, briefly. The guests applauded and cameras flashed, and everyone watching saw newlyweds. Only Lydia knew how little romance there was in it.

The moment they stepped away from the altar, Lucian's face changed completely. "Come with me."

She followed because she didn't know what else to do. Waiters were still pouring champagne as they crossed the ballroom, and guests murmured about Vivian's disappearance. Lydia heard a woman say, "What a pity for her. Can you imagine marrying your sister's fiancé?"

"Or maybe she knew exactly what she was doing," another voice answered.

Lydia's cheeks burned, and she lowered her head. Lucian had heard them too. He said nothing.

A black limousine waited outside, and the driver opened the door. Lydia hesitated before climbing in, expecting Lucian to sit beside her. He entered from the other side and took the farthest seat he could. The door shut, and silence settled over the car.

She looked at the ring on her finger. "I need to ask you something."

Lucian watched the window. "What?"

"Why did you agree?"

He took a while to answer. The city slid past in a blur of glass towers and evening light. At last he said, "Because it benefits me."

She frowned. "How?"

"That doesn't concern you."

"It does now. I'm your wife."

He turned his head slowly. "Wife?" There was something close to mockery in the word.

Her stomach tightened. "Yes."

"You aren't the woman I intended to marry."

She looked down. "I know."

"And yet you expect me to treat you like her?"

Her eyes stung. "I don't expect anything."

"Good."

They drove the rest of the way without speaking.

When they finally reached the Vale estate, Lydia couldn't help staring. The mansion was enormous, its gardens clipped to precision and its tall iron gates closed around it. Guards stood near the entrance, and luxury cars lined the driveway. It looked less like a home than a fortress.

A housekeeper opened the door. "Welcome home, Mrs. Vale."

Lydia managed a small smile. "Thank you."

Lucian walked ahead without waiting, and she followed him inside. The housekeeper led her up the stairs. "Your room is this way."

Lydia stopped. "My room?"

The woman hesitated. "Yes, ma'am."

Lydia looked at Lucian, who didn't turn around. "Where is his?"

The housekeeper shifted uncomfortably. "Mr. Vale has a suite of his own."

Lydia's chest tightened. She had known this marriage wouldn't be ordinary, but she hadn't expected to feel lonely before the wedding day had even ended.

The bedroom was beautiful, almost too beautiful. A huge bed stood in the middle, ringed by costly furniture and soft lighting. Fresh flowers sat on the table, expensive perfume waited on the dressing table, and clothes hung neatly in the wardrobe. Someone had prepared everything a bride could need, but the bride they had in mind was Vivian, not Lydia.

She walked to the mirror. She still wore the wedding dress, and her makeup had begun to wear away beneath her eyes. She looked exhausted. She touched the diamond ring and remembered what her mother had said that morning. *Please, Lydia, you're the only person who can save us.*

She closed her eyes. To save her family she had given up her home and her freedom, and her future along with them. Now she stood in a stranger's house wearing a ring from a man who had already told her he didn't care.

A soft knock interrupted her thoughts, and the door opened. Lucian stood there.

She turned. "Do you need anything?"

He studied her for a few seconds. "There are rules."

Her heart sank. "What rules?"

"This marriage is a legal arrangement and nothing more."

She nodded slowly. "Fine."

"You won't interfere with my work."

"Okay."

"You won't question where I go or who I spend time with."

She swallowed. "Okay."

"And you won't look for affection from me."

That one hurt. She looked away. "I wasn't going to."

Lucian watched her, and something like guilt crossed his face before it disappeared. "That's all for now."

Lydia looked back at him.

"In public, you'll continue to be my wife."

She frowned. "What does that mean?"

"It means you'll act as if everything is fine when other people are around."

She let out a short, harsh laugh. "Don't worry. I'm very good at pretending."

His eyes narrowed slightly, and he turned toward the door. "Get some rest."

"Lucian?"

He stopped.

She hesitated. "Will I ever find out what happened to Vivian?"

He didn't turn around. "At the appropriate time."

Then he left, and the door closed behind him.

Alone in the huge room, Lydia sat slowly on the edge of the bed. For the first time that day she let herself cry, not loudly and not dramatically. She covered her face with her hands and let the tears come.

Tomorrow she would wake up as Mrs. Lucian Vale. The man she had just married had already settled on how to make her pay for the sins of a family she barely understood.