Meet the cast

A best man's guide to the wedding party: presented with the reluctant honesty of someone who has to spend the entire day with these people. I've been asked to introduce the principal players. I should note that I was not consulted on the guest list and cannot be held responsible for anyone on it. Henry

James Ashworth-Pemberton

The Groom: Wealthy, trusting and fundamentally decent. James is the sort of man who gives his coat to a stranger in winter and remembers every waiter's name He drives in ski boots, puts ketchup on everything his mother considers sacred and works in insurance, though his actual duties remain unclear to me and, I suspect, to him. He loves Anastasia with a devotion that is either deeply profound or profoundly stupid. Possibly both. I have spent eight years keeping him alive. It has not been easy.

The golden retriever of the English aristocracy. You will love him. You will want to protect him. You will spend the entire book terrified for him.

Anastasia Kovalenko

The Bride

A brilliant Ukrainian tech entrepreneur who built a cybersecurity company from nothing after arriving in England with very little. She met James at a yacht party on the Côte d'Azur, which is already suspicious, because beautiful women at yacht parties are rarely there by accident. She's composed, fiercely private and genuinely in love with James; a fact that surprises no one more than herself. Her flat is almost empty. Her nightmares are in Ukrainian. And she came to her own wedding with a knife strapped to her thigh. I have questions. Many questions.

She's not the damsel in distress. She's the most dangerous person in the room. And she's wearing white.

Henry Vaughn

Best Man & Narrator

That would be me. I work in Whitehall in a role I describe as 'administrative liaison in cross-departmental risk assessment,' which is technically true and has the additional virtue of causing people to change the subject immediately. My job at this wedding is to deliver a speech, keep James upright and try not to notice the things that don't add up about his bride, her brother and the general sense that someone at this wedding has plans that don't involve confetti.

I notice things. It's what I do. I just wish, for once, there was nothing to notice

Viktor Morozov

The Bride's 'Brother'

Anastasia's long-lost brother, recently reunited after the chaos of war. Or so he says. Viktor is charming, cultured, impeccably dressed and radiates the kind of warmth that makes everyone trust him instantly. James invited him to the stag do within five minutes of meeting him. Elizabeth thinks he has 'a certain bearing.' Seb the wedding planner is half in love with him. I think he's the most dangerous person I've ever sat across a dinner table from. One of us is wrong. I don't think it's me.

Sophisticated. Ruthless. And very, very patient — until the wedding day.

Elizabeth Ashworth-Pemberton

Mother of the Groom

James's mother is formidable in the way that certain buildings are formidable: beautiful, structurally perfect and designed to make you feel small. She controls the family trusts, the guest list, the flower arrangements and everyone's expectations. She has opinions about candelabras. Plural opinions. She hired a private investigator to look into Anastasia and planted a prenup in the vestry. Her King Charles Spaniels, Fortnum and Mason, share her expression of well-bred disdain. I have known her for eight years and I still don't know if she likes me.

The immovable object. The mother-in-law from your nightmares; who might actually be right about some things.

Gerald

Stepfather of the Groom

Gerald made his fortune in oil services during the murky years of the 1980s Middle East boom. What exactly he did during those years remains unclear; he deflects questions with war stories that may or may not be true and a cavalry officer's talent for changing the subject. He now collects vintage motorcycles, loses bets on horses and occupies space in Elizabeth's various properties with the comfortable air of a man who has achieved everything he set out to achieve and has no specific ambitions beyond lunch. His speech was twelve pages long. It did not stay that way.

Ornamental rather than structural. But occasionally, unexpectedly, exactly what's needed.

Cordelia Ashworth-Pemberton

'Granny'

Eighty-seven years old. Sees everything. Says nothing — until she does, at which point you wish she hadn't. Granny asks the wedding planner about security perimeters and emergency exits. She lunches at clubs that don't have signs on the door. She has contacts who speak in code and a past that nobody discusses. When asked about her career, she changes the subject with the skill of someone who has done this professionally. She poured her sherry into a pot plant within ten minutes of arriving and demanded champagne. She is, without question, the most terrifying person at the wedding. Including the one with the knife.

Imagine if M from James Bond was your grandmother. And she'd had champagne.

Freddie

Usher & Agent of Chaos

Freddie has known James since school and has been manipulating him into stupid bets ever since. He drives a 1963 E-Type Jaguar that he loves more than most people. He cries at weddings (it's a medical condition, apparently). He fills hot tubs with stolen lobsters as wedding gifts. He invents cocktails that literally explode: tequila, tabasco and actual gunpowder, rigged to spark when you drink them. Real flames. Real bangs. Real danger. His heart is enormous. His judgment is non-existent. He solves every problem by making it considerably worse.

The friend who makes every situation funnier and more dangerous in equal measure. You know one. You might be one.

Camilla

Freddie's Girlfriend & Hen Do Organiser

Horsey, straightforward and utterly terrifying. Camilla has the social instincts of a determined sheepdog and the organisational skills to match. She has Freddie on what can only be described as a training programme — like a horse that needs schooling — and it is the best thing that has ever happened to him. She once described the Queen as 'adequate.' She organised the hen do in Bath on the basis that everything about Slough is wrong. She called Anastasia 'proper,' which from Camilla is practically a knighthood. The monarchy has been outranked.

Don't cross her. Don't argue with her. And don't even think about suggesting Slough.

Tariq

Usher & Owner of the Private Jet

Tariq comes from the kind of money that makes James's family look positively middle-class, though you would never know it from his manner, which is unfailingly modest and slightly apologetic, as if he finds his own wealth vaguely embarrassing. His contribution to the stag do was the private jet, the family chalet in Verbier and three thousand pounds of vintage champagne. 'It's nothing, really,' he said. 'Just sitting there most of the time.' He lives on a farm in the Cotswolds with Marcus, their sheep, and a deep conviction that the countryside can fix almost anything.

The quietest person in any room and the one you'd most want in a crisis.

Marcus

Tariq's Partner

Six foot four, shoulders like a wardrobe and a handshake that could crush walnuts; yet somehow the gentlest person at the wedding. Marcus runs the farm, cares deeply about soil pH levels and sheep vaccination schedules and turned up to the hen do in Bath with a case of champagne, a professional espresso machine and enough skincare products to stock a small pharmacy. He is the only man in this story who regularly makes other people feel truly seen. He also, it turns out, has hidden depths on a dance floor that only emerge after sufficient champagne.

The heart of the group. Also, surprisingly, the moves.

Mei

Rupert's Girlfriend & Structural Enthusiast

So petite that standing next to Rupert creates the impression of a giant with a fairy in some folk tale. They are both architects, which explains nothing about how they met and everything about why they keep getting distracted by the structural features of every building they enter. She bonded with Anastasia over architectural history and a shared appreciation for load-bearing walls; which is, I'm told, a perfectly normal basis for friendship.

Small. Brilliant. Entirely unbreakable — which, given who she's dating, is essential.

Rupert

Usher & Human Wrecking Ball

A rugby player of considerable size who introduced himself on the stag do by accidentally breaking the handle off his carry-on bag. Rupert takes up a lot of space, in every sense. He dances with his girlfriend Mei with such enthusiasm that an exclusion zone forms naturally around them, established by stamped toes and elbowed ribs. He is loyal, uncomplicated and capable of putting out small fires with red wine, which is effective but catastrophic for knitwear. He lost a bet at the wedding and was required to learn the bagpipes before breakfast. The results were not encouraging.

Built like a wall. Heart of a lion. Coordination of a man fighting bees.

Sophie

Archie's Girlfriend & The One Who's Too Good for Him

From a distance, she looks like the standard-issue arm candy that Archie tends to acquire: blonde, polished, the kind of woman who photographs well at charity galas. Within twenty minutes of arriving at Tariq's country house, she had cornered Marcus in the kitchen and was asking detailed questions about regenerative agriculture and soil carbon sequestration. She has a First in Environmental Science from Cambridge and works on sustainable farming initiatives for a major investment fund.

Proof that Archie has better taste than he deserves. Also proof that he should pay more attention.

Archie

Usher & Work in Progress

Archie works in finance and has a habit of forgetting the names of the women he brings to events. He once introduced his date as 'Sorry, darling, remind me?' at his own birthday party. He spent the drive to the stag do on three separate phone calls, each more incomprehensible than the last. He has lost both eyebrows on separate occasions to Freddie's exploding shots. But there are, it turns out, depths to Archie, very shallow depths, admittedly, more paddling pool than ocean, but depths nonetheless. He may yet surprise everyone. Including himself.

The one most likely to accidentally say the wrong thing. Also, unexpectedly, the one most likely to grow.

Seb Wilde

Wedding Planner

Seb has planned weddings at Blenheim Palace, on private islands and once on an aircraft carrier. None of this prepared him for the Ashworth-Pembertons. He carries a clipboard like a shield and collects social currency like stamps. He has the air of a man who believes that flowers and timelines can solve any problem and the slowly dawning realisation that this particular wedding may require a different skill set entirely. He told Viktor everything about the wedding security over lunch. Viktor bought the wine.

Excellent at weddings. Less excellent at recognising when someone at the wedding is not what they seem.

Maurice

Boatman, Oarsman & Reluctant Participant

Maurice is a leathery Provençal gentleman of indeterminate age who has been looking after the Ashworth-Pemberton boat in Cap Ferrat for thirty years. He lives on whatever vessel he is currently fixing up, subsisting on red wine and unfiltered cigarettes, with an apparent immunity to the passage of time. His vocabulary, in both French and English, consists primarily of shrugs and the occasional dismissive hand gesture.

He has rowed on the Mediterranean. He has sailed in the Aegean. Now he rows on a cold English pond because the family asks and Maurice comes. This is his life. He has accepted it.

Jean-François

Chef

Jean-François is the family chef, with an obsession about foie gras. His lobsters were stolen from their tanks by Freddie and deposited in the hot tub, Freddie was chased with a funnel and a sack of corn, the details of which were in French and best not translated. When a bottle of ketchup appeared at the top table, Jean-François held it between two fingers as if it were a dead rat, dropped it into the bin and muttered: 'Barbarians. This country. These people. Ketchup. Mon Dieu.'

He does not calm down. He simmers. Appropriate, really, for a chef.

The Rev Tobias

Vicar

The Reverend Tobias has been conducting services at Hartington Hall's chapel for forty years and has earned certain privileges. A personal port collection on the vestry sideboard and a cigar that burns in an ashtray definitely not sanctioned by the Church of England. His inappropriate jokes make Elizabeth wince and everyone else smile, which is probably the point.

He is, in every sense, a man of the cloth who prefers his comfort fortified.

'To love. Which, in my experience, rarely benefits from legal advice.'