And what had he been doing? Reporting on her to Lord de-Rottweiler.
* * *
In fact, Lord de-Rottweiler had no shortage of people reporting to him.
Later that afternoon, on her way back from lunch, she spotted Nicole on the stairs having a heated discussion with someone on the phone.
“No, no. I didn’t sayanyAmerican clients, only the top drawer. Palm Beach, LA, Manhattan.”
It made Laura smile. She’d bet good money that Nicole’s previous work had been very ordinary. Middle-range events for middle income clients.
“Of course you need to write that. I work with top designers, top clients top fashion houses.”
Laura, by now had reached the foot of the stairs and paused, then cleared her throat.
Nicole’s head whipped around; annoyance flashed across her face but just as quickly disappeared. She terminated the call and came down the stairs, all smooth manners and wide smiles.
“Laura.” She cooed. “I’ve been hoping to catch you.” Nicole was dressed in a severely tailored navy blue suit with a red and white blouse underneath. It made her look like a British Airways flight attendant.
Laura paused on the step and waited.
“I just spoke to Lord M and he’s very anxious. His blood pressure is elevated and he has stomach pains.” Nicole gave her a serious look to go with the false sympathetic voice.
“I don’t have anything to do with Mr M’s health,” Laura replied. “You should speak to his doctor. He’s bound to be around here somewhere.”
“Oh, I have,” Nicole added silkily. “And he’s worried about Lord M too.” She emphasised the ‘Lord’ as if it somehow diminished her own status to call him ‘Mister.’ “But you see, it’s because ofyou.”
“You’re not suggesting I poisoned him, are you?” Laura knew very well what Nicole was suggesting but she didn’t want to play her game.
“It’s the wedding dress. You still haven’t replied to me about which one we should order.”
Whatever Millie had told Du Montfort obviously must have made it clear anything to do with Millie’s wedding clothes went through Laura. So Nicole had been pushing her to choose a back-up dress and had followed up her initial suggestions of Dior and Vera Wang with a dozen more. Every other day there had been another email with another link to another couture specimen.
“I’m not going to order a ready-made gown, as you know I’m making it.”
“But we don’t have time. I understand you’re still testing ideas on little strips, and you haven’t even got the fabric to make the dress. The wedding is less than five weeks away.”
Laura took a deep breath and forced herself to breathe out slowly before answering. Better to answer the facts and not react to the language.
“I know exactly when the wedding is. I have ordered the fabric and it arrived this morning. Feel free to reassure Lord M.”
“Ordered from where?”
“From a small manufacturer. You wouldn’t have heard of them.”
“What?” Nicole’s eyes widened as if she’d been told the dress was going to be made out of pita bread. “Something from a cheap manufacturer when we could have the pick of the best?”
“We?” Laura echoed with a meaningful look. “Don’t you mean Millie? After all she’s the bride; it’s up to her.”
“Don’t you understand, it’s not just her. This is a big event, press, social media…We’ll all look bad if the dress is a cheap, nameless thing.”
So that was her thing. Nicole had been hoping to use this high-profile job to springboard herself out of provincial weddings and into the celebrity world in America. The phone call earlier made perfect sense now.
“Laura,” Nicole tried a more cajoling tone. “There is no embarrassment. You’re still getting paid.”
“Excuse me, I have to go back to my studio.” Laura tried to get to the stairs but the other woman was in her way and wouldn’t move.
“Lord M instructed you to order a gown.I don’t think you’re taking this very seriously.”
