“How dare you call me a liar? You – you – you –you…” Her face was dark with rage, but her eyes had a suspicious shine. Could the woman be on the verge of tears?
“What are you talking about?”
“You know, you freak of nature.” She glanced up and down Laura’s clothes. “How dare you?” She brandished her iPad with a twitter thread.
It was too far for Laura to read any of it, but she didn’t have to.
Tirana, on learning that Nicole’s posts about the dress were untrue, had taken it upon herself to jump to Laura’s defence and flood social media with counter posts. She had a flair for click magnets and had already generated a lot of buzz around the ‘wedding dress debate’ which had its own hash tag. As did #liarNicole apparently.
“I’m sorry Nicole; it wasn’t me.”
“Then who? Who is ‘@ColourGirl’ or @FashionPolice or this one, @lovewedding?”
“Not me.” Laura knew that @ColourGirl was in fact Tirana but she would not feed the girl to the dragon.
Emmett, following his fiancée, was trying to calm things down. “Come on Nic this is a storm in a teacup. You’ve done a grand job; don’t sweat over little things.” He took hold of her arm and tried to turn her back out of the kitchen.
Unfortunately, as she turned, she came face to face with Pierre who had just come out of the study. She’d recently changed her colour scheme again, this time to deep raspberry or blackberry. She was in deepest purple harem pants and burgundy top. Her hair was streaked black, red and purple. It contrasted beautifully with her pale, creamy complexion.
“Someone is on the phone for Adam,” Pierre said. “A woman keeps calling for him and I keep telling her he’s not here—”
Nicole didn’t wait. “It’s you, isn’t it?” She accused. “I should have guessed.”
Pierre looked from Nicole to Laura. “What’s the matter?”
“ColourGirl. Do you even know how stupid you look?” Nicole reached over and flicked a section of Pierre’s purple hair. “You sad hippie.”
“Don’t call her that.” Emmett tried to insert himself between the two women.
Nicole shrugged him off. “What are you hoping to do? Ruin my reputation?”
Emmett tried again, “Nic, no one is trying to ruin anything, and she wouldn’t—”
“It’s one of them, the ugly sisters.” She pointed between Laura and Pierre. There were tears coursing down her face now. She threw a last look at Laura. “We’ll see who gets the last laugh. His lordship is back tomorrow.” And then she hurried away.
Emmett, looking grim, mumbled, “Sorry, she’s just upset. She’s been under a lot of stress.” Then he followed her.
To be fair, if Nicole was trying to establish a high-profile career, then this social media war was damaging. Laura found herself feeling sorry for the woman.
She would have a word with Tirana tomorrow about deleting all her #liar tweets.
“What’s got into her?” Pierre asked. The words were casual, but a tremor had come into her voice. The attack had clearly upset her.
“Tell you later.” Laura pulled her into a hug.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Adam came backthe following evening.
She’d just had a shower and, inspired by Pierre, rifled through the chest of drawers for her burgundy shirt. Once upon a time, it had been a man’s white dress shirt, the kind worn with a tux, a sample from a bridal supplier hoping Gloria’s Gowns would carry a range of men’s formal clothes. No one wanted it so Laura had taken it home and dyed it deep claret red, a colour that always suited her. After Nicole’s unpleasant tirade calling her a freak of nature, she wanted to look nice. No spinster tomboy clothes tonight.
She lit the fire, found her iTunes playlists and chose something with lots of Eric Satie and decided to have a quiet night in her room. Her hair was still towel-damp and a quick comb through with her finger settled it into shape. The shirt had a fine pleated front and long curved tails that reached just above her knees; the cotton felt soft against her bare skin. On impulse, she didn’t bother with a bra and wore the shirt with nothing underneath but lacy shorts.
What answer was she going to give Adam? No idea.
He’d told her to take her time and think. So, she would think. Later. After the wedding. Tonight, they’d have a nice evening. The mere idea of seeing him soon, of feeling his hands on her, made her skin tingle.
Her eyes could do with a little liner, maybe a little shadowing, but since she hadn’t any make up – Adam would have to take herau naturel. The only cosmetic on hand was a tube of moisturizing lip gloss. She slipped back into the bathroom to apply some and give her hair a last rub with the towel when someone knocked on her bedroom door.
