Whatever it was she found out had upset her a lot. Pierre flicked her eyes to Gabriel with a question.
He gave her a tiny head shake then turned to his fiancée. “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.
Was this about Laura?
“We’ll see who gets the last laugh. His Lordship is back tomorrow,” Nicole snarled, storming away.
Gabriel looked very grim. “Sorry, she’s just upset. She’s been under a lot of stress. I’ll deal with her.” He followed Nicole along the corridor to her office.
Pierre found that her knees were shaking. She still wasn’t sure the attack had nothing to do with her and Gabriel.
“What’s got into her?” she asked Laura, trying to keep her voice steady, to hide how upset she was.
Laura must have noticed and pulled her into a hug. “Tell you later.”
“Tell me now.” Pierre didn’t think she could take any more suspense.
“All right, but let’s go to the kitchen. I need a safe space and a nice cup of tea.”
______
“So, even though none of them ever met Nicole,” Laura was saying as she poured herself another cup from the china pot, “everyone at the Casemates is very excited about the dress, so they were all pretty angry about the Vivienne Westwood tweets. And one of them decided to expose the truth. She’s been tweeting almost non-stop. #weddingdressdebate and #LiarNicole and basically quoting Nicole’s own tweets so it all links back to her.”
“Shit.” Pierre grimaced. This meant that anyone following Nicole would now see the accusations.
“Shit, indeed.” Laura wrinkled her nose. “Let’s be fair, she brought it all on herself.”
It was true. If Nicole hadn’t tweeted about dressing Millie in Vivienne Westwood, none of this would have happened.
“I don’t understand.” Liam had come to join them and sat cradling a cup of coffee in both his hands. “How did she even hope to get away with it?”
“Easily,” Laura said. “Many brides wear two wedding dresses, one for the ceremony, another for the reception. I think that’s how she planned to spin it to her future clients. All she needs is a screen capture of her tweets, and she’ll create a visual montage of her achievements.”
Laura had guessed close enough but not the full story. Only Pierre had overheard through the wall in her bedroom as Nicole claimed that top labels ran after her competing to have her dress brides in their designs. No one knew she had sold everything in England to pay for an expensive advertising campaign to impress rich Americans. No one had witnessed the tearful melt down in the conservatory when she thought she might lose £8,000.
“So, she’s off to a big career in the States?” Liam whistled softly.
“I don’t know if that’s going to be possible now.” Pierre felt a vague worry. “If Laura’s friend has been flooding social media, it will sabotage anything Nicole tries to spin. It’ll make people doubt her.”
The uneasy feeling moved into the pit of her stomach. Lord M’s words came back to her: Nicole was hungry for success; this wedding meant too much to her. Would she let this latest public humiliation go?
No, she wouldn’t.
Another explosion was sure to follow, and probably soon.
Twenty-Eight
The disaster came two days later.
Lord M had returned from hospital looking rested and his usual self. Nicole had arranged the day before to have everyone down at the marina to welcome him home. She’d even sent Gabriel to take pictures of a hundred people holding up a banner that read, “Welcome home Lord Du Montfort.”
Gabriel had found a moment to stand next to Pierre on the jetty as the private boat approached.
“You okay?” he’d asked.
“Fine.” she'd lied. After a moment she asked the question that had been keeping her awake. “What have you told Nicole?”
