I feel almost cruel. I can see her bottom lip quivering very slightly.

“Do you remember the bridal scene in The Sound of Music?” I add casually. “When Maria walks up the aisle to the nuns’ singing and her big long veil floating everywhere …”

Don’t overdo it, Fliss.

I lapse into silence and sip my champagne, waiting. I can see Lottie’s eyes flickering with thoughts. I can sense her inner battle between romance and lust. I think romance is just getting the edge. I think the violins are playing louder than the jungle drums. She looks as if she’s coming to a decision. Please go the right way, go on.…

“Fliss …” She looks up. “Fliss …”

Just call me the World Champion Bride Whisperer.

There was no argument. No confrontation. Lottie thinks it was her idea to postpone. I was the one saying, “Are you sure, Lottie? Are you positive you want to call things off? Really?”

I’ve totally sold her on the idea of a country wedding with music and a choir and bells. She’s already looked up the name of the chaplain at our old school. She’s off on a new dream of satin and posies and “I Vow to Thee, My Country.”

Which is fine. A wedding is lovely. Marriage is lovely. Maybe Ben is destined to be her life partner and I’ll kick myself as she has her tenth grandchild and think, What was my problem? But at least this way gives her some breathing space. At least it gives her time to look at Ben and think, Hmm. Sixty more years with you. Is this a good idea?

Lottie’s gone off to the registry office, to tell Ben the news. My work is done. The only task remaining is to buy her Brides magazine. We’re going to meet up for coffee tomorrow and have a cozy chat about veils, and then, in the evening, finally I’ll get to meet Ben.

I’m waiting to cross the King’s Road, mentally congratulating myself for being so brilliant, when I see a face I recognize. Beaky nose. Windswept dark hair. Rose in his buttonhole. He’s about ten feet tall and is striding along the pavement on the other side, with the kind of thunderous frown that you wear when your rich best friend has been grabbed by an evil gold digger and you’ve got to be best man. As he’s walking, his rose suddenly falls out, and he stops to pick it up. He’s looking at it with such a murderous expression, I almost want to laugh.

Ha. Well, wait till I tell him. What’s his name again? Oh yes, Lorcan.

“Hi!” I wave frantically as he moves off. “Lorcan! Stop!”

His stride is so fast, I’ll never catch up with him. He pauses and swivels round suspiciously, and I wave again to get his attention.

“Over here! Me! I need to speak to you!” I wait for him to cross, then approach him, brandishing my bouquet. “I’m Fliss Graveney. We spoke yesterday? Lottie’s sister?”

“Ah.” His face clears briefly, then it’s back to the cheery, wedding-day scowl. “I suppose you’re heading there now?”

I’d forgotten about the ridiculous movie-trailer voice. Although somehow it sounds less ridiculous when it’s not a disembodied voice coming down a phone line. It matches his face. Dark and kind of intense.

“Well, actually …” I can’t help sounding complacent. “I’m not heading there, because it’s off.”

He stares at me in shock. “What do you mean?”

“It’s off. For now,” I add. “Lottie’s gone to postpone the wedding.”

“Why?” he demands. He’s so bloody suspicious.

“So she can make sure Ben’s fortune is invested in a way that makes it easy to plunder,” I say with a shrug. “Obviously.”

Lorcan’s face flickers with amusement. “OK. I deserved that. What’s going on? Why is she postponing?”

“I talked her out of it,” I say proudly. “I know my sister, and I know the power of suggestion. After our little chat, she wants a romantic wedding in a small stone church in the country. That’s why she’s postponing. My reasoning is: if they delay, at least it gives them a chance to see if they’re right for each other.”

“Well, thank God for that.” Lorcan breathes out and runs a hand through his hair. Finally his hackles are coming down; finally his brow is starting to relax. “Ben is in no place to be getting married right now. It was nuts.”

“Ridiculous,” I agree.

“Insane.”

“Stupidest idea ever. No, I take that back.” I glance down at myself. “Putting me in a purple bridesmaid’s dress was the stupidest idea ever.”

“I think you look very nice.” Another flicker of amusement passes across his face. He glances at his watch. “What should I do? I’m supposed to be meeting Ben at the registry office by now.”

“I think we should stay away.”

“Agreed.”

There’s a pause. This is weird, standing on a street corner, all dressed up with no wedding to go to. I finger my bouquet awkwardly and wonder if I should throw it in the bin. It seems wrong somehow.

“Do you feel like a drink?” says Lorcan abruptly. “I feel like a drink.”

“I feel like about six drinks,” I counter. “It takes it out of you, talking someone out of a wedding.”

“OK. Let’s do it.”

A man of swift decisions. I like that. He’s already ushering me down a side street, toward a bar with a striped canopy and French-looking tables and chairs.

“Hey, I assume your sister did call it off?” Lorcan stops dead in the doorway. “We’re not going to get an irate text saying, Where the hell are you?”

“Nothing from Lottie.” I check my phone. “She was pretty determined to cancel. I’m sure she did.”

“Nothing from Ben either.” Lorcan’s looking at his BlackBerry. “I think we’re in the clear.” He ushers me to a corner table and opens the drinks menu. “You want a glass of wine?”

“I want a large gin and tonic.”

“You earned it.” He gives that flicker of a smile again. “I’ll join you.”

He orders the drinks, switches off his phone, and slips it into his pocket. A man who puts away his phone. I like that too.

“So, why is it a bad time for Ben to be getting married?” I ask. “In fact, who is this Ben? Fill me in.”

“Ben.” Lorcan’s face twists wryly as though he doesn’t know where to start. “Ben, Ben, Ben.” There’s a long pause. Has he forgotten what his best friend is like? “He’s … bright. Inventive. He has a lot going for him.”

He sounds so strained and unconvincing, I stare at him. “Do you realize you sounded as if you were saying, ‘He’s an ax murderer.’ ”

“I did not.” Lorcan looks caught out.

“You did. I’ve never seen anyone look so negative while they’re trying to big up their friend.” I put on a funereal voice. “ ‘He’s bright. He’s inventive. He kills people in their sleep. In inventive ways.’ ”

“Jesus! Are you always this—” Lorcan breaks off and sighs. “OK. I suppose I’m trying to protect him. He’s in a difficult place, Ben. His father died. The company has an uncertain future, and he needs to decide which direction it’s going in. He’s a natural gambler but he lacks judgment. It’s difficult for him. He’s having a bit of an early midlife crisis, I guess.”

An early midlife crisis? Oh, perfect. Just what Lottie needs.

“Not husband material, then?” I say, and Lorcan snorts.

“Maybe one day. When he’s got his shit together. Last month he was buying a cabin in Montana. Then he was going to buy a boat, sail in races. Before that, he was all about investing in vintage motorbikes. Next week it’ll be some other craze. My guess is he won’t stay married five minutes. I’m afraid your sister will be the casualty.”

My heart is sinking, fast. “Well, thank God it’s off.”

“You did a good thing.” He nods. “Not least because we need Ben around. He can’t go AWOL again.”

I screw up my eyes. “What do you mean, ‘AWOL again’?”

Lorcan sighs. “He did it once before. When his father became ill. Disappeared for ten days. There was a hell of a fuss. We got the police involved, everything. Then he reappeared. No apologies, no explanations. To this day I don’t know where he got to.”

The drinks arrive and Lorcan raises his glass. “Cheers. To canceled weddings.”

“Canceled weddings.” I lift my own glass and take a delicious gulp of gin and tonic, then return to the subject of Ben. “So, why is he having a midlife crisis?”

Lorcan hesitates, as though he doesn’t want to break his friend’s confidence.

“Come on,” I prod. “I’m nearly related to him, after all.”

“I suppose so.” He shrugs. “I’ve known Ben since I was thirteen. We were at school together. My own parents are expats in Singapore and I don’t have any other family. I went to stay with Ben a couple of times in the holidays and I became close to the whole family. Ben’s dad and I share a love of hiking. Shared, I should say.” He pauses, fingers clasped gently round his glass. “Ben never came hiking with us. Not interested. And he never wanted to know about the family firm either. He saw it as this massive pressure. Everyone expected he’d join his father as soon as he left school, but it was the last thing he wanted to do.”

“So how come you work for them?”

“I joined a few years ago.” Lorcan gives an odd little half smile. “I was going through some … personal stuff. I wanted to get out of London, so I went to stay with Ben’s dad, up in Staffordshire. At first I was just planning to spend a few days there, go on some hikes, clear my head. But I started getting involved with the company. Never left.”

“Staffordshire?” I say in surprise. “But don’t you live in London?”

“We have offices in London, of course.” He shrugs. “I commute between the two, but I prefer being up there. It’s a beautiful setting. The paper mills are set in a country estate. The offices are in the main house, the family home. It’s Grade One listed. Did you see that BBC series Highton Hall?” he adds. “Well, that’s us. They shot there for eight weeks. Little money-spinner for us.”