18

RICHARD

I WAITED IN THE KITCHEN, pacing and fidgeting with my tie. Damn thing wouldn’t lay flat no matter what I did, as if I had forgotten how to tie a proper Windsor knot. It wasn’t as though I was nervous. I had nothing to be nervous about—Katharine and I were simply going to say a few words, sign a piece of paper, and be done with the formality of marriage. It was another layer in my plans. Simple. It meant nothing.

I yanked at the silk again. Why wouldn’t this fucking tie lay flat?

“Keep pulling it like that and there won’t be any material left, Richard.

What did that tie ever do to you?”

I glanced up, startled. Katharine stood in the doorway, looking equally as nervous, however, much prettier. “Whoa!”

She was wearing a simple off-white dress that hugged her narrow waist and exploded in a froth of material at her knees. The top was lacy and showed off her slender neck and arms. Her hair was pinned back, hanging to one side in a cascade of curls. The champagne hue of her dress acc