“Everyone tha’ wants te. Not every day we have this kind-o’ do. But not tourists. Just all of us from La Canette,” Evans said.
“I’m not reallyfromLaCanette.”
He turned around and fixed her with a no-nonsense expression. “You own and run a business here, don’t yer? That makes yer one o’us in anyone’s book, Miss.” Evans cleared his throat, then went on. “I never would’ve thought it that day I picked yer up from the ferry. You looked like a puppy what’s been kicked, but you’re a different lady now.” His eyes were warm on her before he turned back to watch the road. “An’ you’ve changed our island an’ no mistake. Everyone talks about what yer made outa the little Cotentin fish-n-chip shop.”
Millie, about to thank him for the compliment, bit her lip on the words.Cotentin? “Do you mean the place used to belongto, erm—”
“Old George Cotentin, aye, the seigneur’s father-in-law.”
Millie sat back, stunned. The evening sounds, sheep, dogs, seagulls and the crunch of cartwheels on the path,all faded.
Thoughts whirled around her head.That’s why it mattered so much.She remembered him trying to discourage her from sailing to the cove a year ago. Then, their night in the storm, his sudden mood change.Not here, he’d said.Of course not there, of all places.That’s why he always went up East Hill. To look at the cove and his grandfather’s cottage.
Missing pieces of the jigsaw were coming together in her head. That was why he’d flipped when he’d seen the property deeds. I’d have flipped, too, inhis place.
Her hand went to the base of her throat to still the erratic pulse.Why didn’t I let him explain at Easter? He wanted to tell me. I just talked over him, shut him up, assumed I knew everything.Millie’s hands were damp as she released her grip on her little silver handbag.Oh my God. I took his mother’s childhood home! Did I really blame him for his pain, tell him it was his dark demons?
She wanted to tell Evans to stop, turn around, to take her anywhere else but the church. There was no way she could go now—too late. They were here, and the horse was slowing down as the church loomed dark against the sky in thetwilight.
One of the ushers stationed at the door recognized her immediately. Suzie, eyes shining with excitement, almost ran towards Millie.
“Hello, Suzie.” Millie climbed down from the carriage. Suzie took her hand to pull her inside as if she were afraid tolose her.
“What is it?” Millie asked.
“Nothing, nothing,” Suzie answered looking the complete opposite of nothing as she led Millie to the last empty seat in the fifth row. There was aReservedcard on the seat, which Suzie quickly removed. “This is your seat.”
Oh God, no, not the front. She desperately wanted to hide among the crowds at the back. “Suzie, I can sit behind—”
“It’s been reservedfor you.”
Millie looked around and recognized some of the others in the row. Two seats away were the Shaffers, who managed the village hotel. Millie knew them reasonably well because they sent a lot of their guests to her for afternoon tea. They beckoned to Millie now as shesat down.
“Did you see?” Mrs Shaffer leaned over to ask her. “It’s the Duke of Gloucester up in the front row.”
“Who is he?”
“The Queen’s cousin.” Seeing that Millie was none the wiser, Mrs Shaffer tilted her head towards a tall, white-haired man in the front row. “He’s really a prince, and his brother, Prince William, was the one who died in the plane crash. Used to be close with our seigneur in his younger, wilder days.”
So he was here representing the royal household, of course, for theceremony.
There was no sign of George. Could she ask Mrs Shaffer? No, she couldn’t. The village gossip mill didn’t need fodder.
Millie sat as patiently as she could while the church filled up. Her eyes searched the pews, but she suspected George wouldn’t come in this early.He’s probably in the vestry or whatever that room to the side is called. He’s probably just waiting for the ceremony to start.Throughout the obligatory fifteen minutes of Bach organ music, she kept craning her neck towards the side entrance. Nothing. The music finished, and Bishop Gardner stepped forward to lead the prayers.
“Now,” the Bishop said when the last hymn had been sung, “I would like to introduce His Excellency, Lord Du Montfort, Seigneur of LaCanette.”
While the church echoed with respectful applause, Du Montfort was wheeled to a table covered with dark-blue velvet. The island’s coat of arms was embossed in gold at the centre of the ceremonial cloth.
She smiled to see Du Montfort looking regal in his sash and medals. His speech was formal but short. As expected, he welcomed the Duke of Gloucester, he touched on the history of the island going back to the Norman invasion and gave thanks for a rewarding tenure asseigneur.
Finally, George rose from a seat in the front row where a column had hidden him fromher view.
Millie’s breath caught in her chest. He looked stunning in formal black tie, and a snow-white dress shirt set off his smooth, bronzed face. His black hair was immaculate under the lights. An excited wave of whispering rose and fell in the church around her, and she couldn’t blame them. He eclipsed everyone; even the duke faded by comparison.
Looking solemn, he strode to the platform, and his handsome face broke into a smile when he came level with Du Montfort. He actually smiled at his father. Millie had never seen him look at his father with anything but frustration, and her heart lifted to see the look of pride and affection on Du Montfort’s face when his son approached.
A hush fell on the crowd as he knelt down on the altar steps in front of his father, hands at his sides, back straight. Millie had a lump in her throat as George dipped his head. His father placed the seigneurial sash over his son’s head, and diagonally acrosshis torso.
