“How is the dress coming along?” His tone was genial enough but the sharp blue eyes were hard.
“Alright, I think.” Laura smiled.
“Alright?” he asked. “You think?”
It was her only warning.
“So, if we take a walk up to your workroom, we’ll find a wedding gown halfway to being complete?”
“No, it’s—” She felt like a school pupil trying to explain to a difficult teacher that the dog ate her homework.
“Thirty percent to being complete?”
A small premonition curled inside her. “Before I can start makin—”
“But I would find part of a dress, wouldn’t I?”
“No.” It dawned on her that the old man already knew what he would – or wouldn’t – find in her sewing room. And he was playing cat and mouse with her.
“No,” she said again without expression.
“But I would find fabric covered in pins and things.”
Laura shook her head.
“So, what have you been doing all this time?”
“Preparing.”
“Preparing?” Du Montfort asked sharply. “What do you mean, washing your hands and cleaning the tables? Please explain because this is of some small interest to me, being the wedding of my only son and heir.”
She supressed the impulse to walk out. She had in fact begun to turn away, but then made herself stay. This was a job; she needed to maintain good relations with everyone if possible. And she was a guest in his house.
“I’ve ordered the tools and fabric samples...” She hesitated. If he wanted details, she would give him details, lots of them. “Mounting board, brushes, painting frame, solvent, acid dye, dharma fibre reactive paint, alum, cream of tartar, mixing palette, trimming and retouching instruments—”
“Alright, alright,” he interrupted. “And you said fabric samples?”
“Yes. Silk charmeuse, chiffon silk, dupioni—”
He cut her off before she could reel another long list. “You mean you don’t even have the right material yet?” He waved his hand, knocking the cup Nurse Ann had just placed in front of him and spilling tea all over the rug. But he didn’t seem to care, he never took his eyes off Laura. “May I remind you we have less than six weeks before the wedding. And you” — Du Montfort jabbed the air with a finger pointing at her — “You have refused to buy one of the thousands of perfectly fine wedding gowns from any of the many, many well-known design houses.”
She hated having to do this, justify herself to someone who wouldn’t understand. In the end she opted for a practical explanation. “I wouldn’t order a large quantity of fabric before seeing samples. I need to find out how the material reacts to the paint—”
“So, you have a room-full of painted handkerchiefs pinned to your walls?”
Whoa. There was no way he should know that.
Unless.
Her eyes flicked in Adam’s direction. Just for a split second, the briefest of glances. His face was a picture of embarrassment, someone caught in the act.
Bastard.
He had seemed so interested in her work, reciting botanical names at her.You really have captured the spirit of the island.And like a fool, she had fallen for it.
“Perhaps,” Du Montfort rebuked her. “You could stitch all the little handkerchiefs together and make a dress that way. My son’s fiancée has trusted you with this important task and you are abusing her trust by wasting weeks playing at handicrafts.”
She didn’t answer, just let him scold her as she reached up and unhooked her garnet earrings and stuffed them into her pocket.
