In Bed With Lord Byron

with a finger on my lips. I shoved it away. He reached down and slipped his hand into mine and hung on
tightly.
    ‘Lucy,’ he whispered, staring down at me with such a tender expression, it felt impossible to stay angry with him, ‘I didn’t do it because I was jealous. I just wanted to
protect you.’
    I let out a deep breath.
    ‘I know,’ I said at last. ‘I know. I was just so worried I was going to lose you.’ And I squeezed his hand back just as tightly.
    I shut up then, realising that the vicar was about to start the ceremony. I listened to his quavering voice and felt my heart unclench like a fist. I had found Anthony. In half an hour
we’d back home. Everything was OK now.
    And then I saw her. I felt someone’s eyes on me and found myself instinctively glancing backwards. A woman was staring at me with narrowed eyes. She looked familiar. Then it clicked, and I
quickly turned away.
    Mrs Torrio!
The woman who had been arrested for running a speakeasy! What the hell was she doing here?
    She must have got bail, I realised. And if she’d been invited to this wedding, she must be in with Capone.
    What if she knows we’re working for Capone now? What if she knows we’re double-crossing him? What if she’s already told him?
    I found myself beginning to break out in a sweat. The church walls seemed to close in on me; the voices declaring their vows blurred. We have to get out of here, I kept telling myself. But if we
made a run for it now, we would only attract attention and suspicion.
    The vows over, the happy couple kissed and glided back down the aisle. They had just made it to the door when I spotted Capone. He was staring straight at me and Anthony with deadly eyes. Then
he turned and spoke to a man in a grey overcoat, pointing us out.
    ‘Anthony,’ I said feverishly, ‘we have to get out of here. Fast.’
    ‘No,’ Anthony hissed. ‘We have to stay. Lucy – I know what Capone’s about to do. He’s using the wedding cake—’
    Bang!
    I didn’t quite understand at first. I realised the guy in the overcoat had fired, and I was aware of Anthony crumpling beside me, but I still couldn’t quite believe it.
    Dolores, who was just leaving the church, turned back. Her mouth tightened.
    ‘Ralph!’ she screamed, hitting him with her bouquet. ‘I can’t believe you let them gun someone down
at my very own wedding!
’
    ‘Lucy,’ Anthony moaned, collapsing on to the floor. Guests began to cry out in shock and panic.
    ‘Get everyone else outside.’ Capone and his henchmen began ushering people out quickly. ‘Time for wedding photographs! Hurry!’ I stared down at Anthony in shock.
This
can’t be happening
, I thought, as a river of blood oozed from his body.
    I didn’t clutch his hand and weep over him like something out of a movie. In a situation of such extreme shock, it seemed impossible to feel anything except blankness. It was as though the
wave of grief that filled me was so strong my mind clamped down a flood barrier; later it would burst and emotions would pour in. As I ran to his side, I felt oddly detached, as though I was
watching myself from above. I cradled his head in my cupped palms; it suddenly seemed so fragile, I feared it would break like an eggshell. He stared up at me through woozy eyes, then reached out,
clawing air. In the manner of a child feeling for his mother, he grabbed a fistful of my dress, clinging on tight, a smile breaking the pain on his face. Then he sank back with a groan, eyes
closed. His face was pasty with sweat, so pale you could see the rivers of green veins; all the muscles in his neck were thick and contorted with pain and his body kept twitching with spasms.
    It was when I looked down and saw the blood seeping on to my dress that it hit me.
    ‘We have to do something!’ I screamed. ‘We need a doctor!’
    I stared up. Capone’s men stood in a circle, at a cautious distance, all looking faintly embarrassed.
    I saw Al pull out his cigar case from his jacket pocket and flip it open. His hands shook ever so slightly. He pulled out a fat cigar. Then he started in shock as I reached up and knocked the
case across the aisle with a clang, his cigars rolling all over the floor. His face screwed up in anger and for a moment I thought he was about to hit me; then he let out a deep sigh.
    ‘We need a priest,’ he said. ‘Get the vicar back here now. The guy deserves to have his last rites.’
    ‘A priest? We don’t need a priest, we need