Adam had been rude three days ago on the ferry, he’d been rude yesterday when meeting her again in the conservatory, and – surprise, surprise – he was rude now. He gave her a polite nod so brief it was more like a twitch. Then he turned his back and started fiddling with his medical bag, no doubt looking for a reason not to meet her eyes.
Liam, on the other hand, came forward with a shy smile and shook her hand. “Nice to meet you, Laura. Welcome.”
Nicole sat there, cool as a chemical formula.
Lord Du Montford, though, was clearly where the power lay in the room. Shrunken and wheelchair-bound, he was clearly the sun that the rest of them orbited.
Please God, Universe, Benevolent Spirit World, let me make a good impression.
“Well, come closer, I won’t bite,” he said.
Laura who had in fact been standing by the door feeling uncomfortable, started towards the other end of the large study. She tried not to be put off by a lord watching her walk.
Don’t trip over your own feet and fall on your face, don’t. This is important.
“Good morning, Laura,” Du Montford said.
Some people stammer when nervous, She did the opposite. “Good morning, Lord Du Montfort.” The words rushed out so fast, they were almost garbled. Her face burned.
“None of that ‘Lord’ nonsense.” He waved impatiently. “So, Millie tells me you are going to make her the perfect dress.”
“I’ll do my best.” Damn it, why did he make her feel like a schoolgirl presenting her homework?
“Well, there are always options. You can choose from any fashion house. Cost is no object, just tell me what you want and you can have the best gown from anywhere.”
He didn’t look at Nicole, not for a second. He didn’t need to. It was clear she’d already dripped her poison in his ear.
Laura drew in a breath too fast. If only she didn’t have everyone in the room watching her. Except the doctor who apparently still didn’t like her.Okay, Universe, I get the message, really I do.
She kept her eyes on Du Montfort. “I’ve had a long discussion with the bride and she told me what she wanted.” She tried really hard not to stamp her foot like a five-year-old girl.
“Quite so, quite so. But there can be no harm in ordering something else, just in case.”
“Of course not, Your Lordship,” Nicole chimed in.
Yes your lordship, no your lordship, three bags full your lordship.
“You can keep it in its box,” Lord M said. “I’m sure we won’t need it if all goes well. Now tell me,” — He didn’t give her a chance to argue — “Why does a bridal designer look and dress like a boy?”
She opened her mouth, but no words came out. He looked serious, as if he really expected an answer.
“I know times have changed,” he continued, “and the world is full of young people whose trousers hang lower than their underpants, but must our wedding dress maker be attired like a boy and my secretary have a boy’s name?” He turned to Pierre and started outlining his instructions.
Pierre herself, didn’t seem offended; she just nodded. No one else looked shocked by what the old man had said. Adam was turned away from her, apparently examining a blood pressure machine but his hand had slid inside his shirt to rub absentmindedly up and down the centre of his chest.
Someone coughed.
“If we may drag your attention away from our handsome doctor for a moment.” Lord M’s voice brought her back.
Nooooo!She’d been staring.
And everyone had noticed.
Her face burned.
“Was there anything else you need?” Du Montfort asked.
“Erm…” Part of her wanted to run. Let them order a gown from wherever. Did she have to do this job? She could go back to Brighton and look for a job… maybe work in McDonalds. She tapped her porcelain piggybank of confidence and took a deep breath.“Millie mentioned about working somewhere called the Casemate.”
