“Oh, before you go—” Millie’s words stopped him. “I understand you’ve already been to the Casemate.”
“Yes.” Adam nodded. “With Lord M the other day when he gave his speech.”
“I’ve arranged for Laura to be given a room to work there. She’s making my wedding dress. But she doesn’t know the place, so I wondered if you’d show her the way tomorrow?”
“Of course.” Then he glanced towards Laura. “If I can help.”
He sounded happy to help. Anyone who didn’t know better would have believed him. Anyone who missed how his eyes never actually landed on her face, only at the empty air over her shoulder. Air handshake and air eye-contact.
She glanced up at the ceiling. God or the universe was trying to send her a message:Stop hoping to be noticed by men.
“He seems very nice,” Millie said when he had left.
Desperate for a change of subject, Laura asked, “So, you won’t be here to choose the fabric?”
“I trust you to make the right choice. I know nothing about chiffon, so I’ll only be taking your recommendation anyway. I’ve spoken to my father-in-law and he insisted on paying for all the supplies. His assistant, Pierre, will organize a space for you to work. The Casemate is a cloth factory, so they already have all the equipment you’re likely to need. Anything else, Pierre will order for you. Now,” Millie rose to her feet. “Let me show you to your bedroom.”
“Why don’t I stay at the cottage?”
Please? She begged silently. Her ex-boss’s words still troubled her, Gloria’s suggestion that Laura wasn’t good at fitting in with people. Here in this big house full of staff – with both Adam and Nicole clearly not in her fan club – there would be many feathers to ruffle.
It wasn’t the new start she wanted.
At the cottage, surrounded by the pretty cove, the green and purple cliff and the smell of drying herbs in the empty café, she would be her own boss and could work as she liked.
Millie gave her a sympathetic smile. “Sadly, I have workmen coming to make repairs. We’re expanding the café. But,” She looped an arm around her waist in a quick side-hug. “You’ll love your room here, I promise. The blue room has its own private sitting room with a cosy fireplace. Come, I’ll show you.”
Chapter Eight
When Laura wokeup the next morning, her first thought was that she was hungry. She’d refused supper last night; who needed to share a meal with Dr Cold Air? The intimidating grand house didn’t help. Or having staff do things for her.
She’d slept in the blue room. A lovely bedroom. The kind of lovely that came from very expensive decor.
Her stomach rumbled again. Had this been a hotel, she would have simply ordered breakfast. But this was a private home, and never had Laura ever been the kind of confident house guest who simply went down to the kitchen and helped herself. So, she took time over her shower and found a fresh pair of jeans and a black jumper. Then she unwrapped the towel from around her head. The short hair didn’t take long to dry and there was not enough of it to style. Being a spinster freed up a lot of time previously taken with beautification activity. She just had to find something to do with all this time.
She made her bed, straightened the blue silk covering, and tidied her things into the antique wardrobe. All the furniture in the room was Louis VXI, simple but elegant. The designer in Laura loved all this; the woman – and spinster – wasn’t sure she belonged. But God damn it, what was the point of her new life if she was still going to be a timid kitten? A lifetime of pushing herself down, fearing to take up space in the world in case someone didn’t like it. Well, now was the time to lift her head up and be a new woman, a force to reckon with and if anyone didn’t like it, anyone could jump into the sea for all it would matter to her. To prove her point, she went to the window, moved the pale blue silk cushions off the little sofa and perched on the arm to look out at the lovely view. This would be her home for the next two months. She would go for walks in the landscaped garden, sit by the lily pool and maybe even pick flowers. And if she still didn’t feel confident, she would pretend. Fake it ’til you make it, right?
And the universe seemed to agree because it knocked on her door and a cheerful voice called, “Hello?”
“Come in.”
A multicoloured head popped round the door. “Mrs B said not to disturb you, but I thought I heard your shower going earlier.”
“Yes, I always wake up early.”
The young woman opened the door wider, took a quick look at the tidy room and stepped in. “Gosh, you must have been up for ages. I’m Pierre.”
Laura gaped. The young woman made Laura feel positively conventional. The long, wavy hair had been dyed pink, orange, yellow and green, and she wore an indigo tie-dye skirt over painted Doc Martens.
“I’m sorry did you say your name was Pierre?”
“Yes.” She flung her hands up in the air making her twenty silver bangles clink. “My mother wanted a boy to call Pierre after some writer she had a crush on. My father wanted a girl to name her Rene after his mother. By the time I was born, they were divorced and she named me Pierre to spite him.”
“Hi, I’m Laura.”
“Yes, I know. Visitors are always big news here.” She looked around the room. “Gosh, aren’t you tidy. I’m a messy goose. It’s a complete mystery how I even got a job here.”
“What do you do?”
