“At Les Etoiles guest house.”
“Not anymore,” Du Montfort said. “Evans, take us via les Etoiles so Dr Mortimer can collect his belongings and his medical bag. Anne.” He looked up at his nurse. “Call the house and tell them to prepare a room for him.”
Oh, for God’s sake.Was no one going to listen to him?
“I’m a gynaecologist,” he tried.
“Thank you,” Du Montfort said as if it was a logical answer. “Let’s go,” he said to the driver. And that seemed to drain the last of his energy because he wilted down into his seat and closed his eyes.
Adam stood up and looked at the nurse. “Does he always get his way?” he asked softly.
She gave him a resigned look. “Oh, yes.”
Chapter Six
“What’s wrong?”Laura closed her notebook.
They were sitting at a window table sipping tea flavoured with orange peel. Millie had also baked delicious lavender scones. Outside the closed café, a storm battered the cliff and shook the bushes. Inside, a cheerful fire burned in the corner wood-burning stove.
“Nothing is wrong.” Millie spread a little butter on the scone and took a bite.
Laura didn’t know how to say it. Millie was lovely and made her feel very welcome. Still, she was the client and Laura should be careful how she phrased things.
“Well, you don’t seem … in a hurry.” Understatement that. Laura had never met a bride so laid back about her upcoming nuptials. As if she didn’t really want to get married.
“Well, we’re stuck here until the sea calms down a bit and we can take the water taxi home,” Millie said. “Winters are a bit of a hazard on the island. You’d never believe it when the sun is shining. Wait till spring, the place becomes a paradise.”
Laura sipped her tea and said nothing. Millie had misunderstood, unless she was just avoiding the subject.
They’d been in Blue-Sage cottage for two days. Millie, who normally lived at Du Montfort Hall, had a back room here with two beds, “For emergencies. And,” she’d confessed, her dimples showing, “George and I sometimes like staying here in our own private bubble.”
George, the fiancé, was away in London for the week, and Millie was apparently using the time to replenish her stocks before the café reopened in spring. Almost every table inside the café was covered in cut herbs spread over tissue paper for drying and heaps of wild berries prepared for preserving. Laura suspected that Millie loved it here surrounded by nature. For two days they had enjoyed delicious food, herbal teas and short walks around the exquisite cove. And they had talked about everything.
Everything except the wedding.
As if she viewed Laura’s presence as a visit not a job. Did Millie not want Laura to design her gown?
“Anyway.” Millie went on. “Mr M, my father-in-law — or I should say future father-in-law. I wanted you to meet him, but he’s apparently a little sick. He went out yesterday and overtired himself. The doctor has been keeping him on bedrest.”
Laura decided on a more direct approach.
“So, why don’t we put the time to good use and talk about your dress?”
“Oh,” Millie waved the subject away. “Plenty of time for that.”
“Not really, your wedding is less than eight weeks away.”
Immediately, Millie’s shoulders drooped and her dimples vanished. “Okay.” She pulled her shawl a little tighter around her. “Let’s sit by the fire.”
Laura inserted a bookmark into her notebook and closed it, then she took her tea and joined Millie on a cushion in front of the roaring fire.
“You know, this is where George and I first kissed,” Millie said with a wistful smile.
Good, she was starting down romantic memories lane. “Whose idea was it to get married?” Laura asked to encourage her.
“Both of us I think.” Millie stared into the fire. “Although I said no the first time he asked.”
Here it was, the nugget of trouble. “Didn’t you love him?”
