“Deeply, madly, desperately.” Millie grinned. “but we weren’t ready.”
What the hell did that mean? If they loved each other and he’d proposed, what else was missing?
Millie suddenly laughed. “Your face!”
Laura realized her mouth was hanging open and closed it. “Sorry. I just don’t understand…” In all her life she had never been ‘not ready’. The idea she would turn down a proposal from a man she loved made as much sense as refusing a parachute when falling out of a helicopter.
“Let’s just say it was a journey.” Millie continued to stare at the fire, a wistful smile on her lips. “A journey for both of us, and we are both better people for having travelled it.”
Yes, Laura didn’t understand it. But then again, she herself had not been a roaring success at the marriage business so perhaps Millie was on to something. But that didn’t explain the lack of excitement. “You’re very lukewarm about your dress.”
“It’s hard to explain.” Millie shook her head. “It’s my second wedding. It doesn’t feel right to put on a grand white dress. Besides, I’m a simple girl from a small town in the Fens. How can I march down the aisle like a princess? I wish we could just elope and get married in some town hall early in the morning and then come back and it’s all done.”
“What does your fiancé think?”
“Oh, George says he’ll marry me in a pair of jeans if I want.”
“Well there’s a thought. Do you have a pair of jeans? It could double up as your something old and something blue.”
Millie flopped back on the cushion and stared at the ceiling. “I wish. But since Mr M passed the seigneurship to George, we have obligations to the island. The seigneur can’t get married without ceremony and there are a hundred officials and dignitaries that must be invited, to say nothing of royalty. So, unfortunately…” Millie sighed.
“Old jeans is a non-starter.”
“Can you imagine? In front of the Duke of Gloucester and Viscount Hartford? What a scandal. And I’m divorced!”
Some women had all the luck. Others, like Laura, couldn’t manage to get married even once and here was Millie about to marry a second man and he was the son of a lord. “Please tell me George is middle-aged, short fat and bald.”
Millie’s giggle didn’t hide the dreamy look in her eyes. If she hadn’t been so sweet, Laura would’ve hated her.
Stop it, you can be a spinster but not a jealous bitter one. Different women had different lives. She looked down at her notes and brought the discussion back to the topic.
“So why haven’t you got your wedding dress yet?”
Millie turned back to watch the fire. “You’re going to think me insane.”
“I think you’re running that risk anyway,” Laura joked.
“Everyone has been gifting me wedding help. Just like you are a gift from Joanie. Mr M hired this wedding planner to help me. The kind of woman dressed in designer clothes down to her underwear no doubt.” Millie sighed. “She’s been pushing me to get something famous.”
“Something famous?” Laura asked.
“Oh, a gown by some famous couture house.”
Laura’s heart fell. So the job was likely to evaporate if they were going for a ready-made dress.
“That’s how Nicole puts it,” Millie went on, oblivious to Laura’s disappointment. “I have to wear a famous piece. It reminds me of my ex-husband.”
Laura wanted to say that a bride-to-be should not really be talking about her ex-husband.
“You know I haven’t given him a thought since before I got divorced two years ago and suddenly since Nicole took over planning my wedding, I can’t stop thinking about him.”
Millie looked close to tears. Laura set aside her own worries about the job and reached over to squeeze her hand.
“Why?”
“He used to be obsessed with designer clothes and stylish accoutrements – that’s what he called them – and a posh business address. Our flat was littered with magazines showing shiny, fast cars that cost enough money to feed a third world nation. And now Nicole keeps shoving magazines under my nose, Vera Wang this and Fendi that. She even booked me a Vivienne Westwood trial fitting at some hotel in Jersey. Honestly, I stood in front of the mirror in one white creation after another and felt like Cinderella’s ugly sister at the ball.”
“But you’re so pretty.”
