Pierre hated to admit it, but Ann had a point. George and Lord M were like the irresistible force meeting the immovable object. It would just aggravate the old man even more.
Adam tried again. “George is the Seigneur. Only he has the authority to organise a transport yacht to take Lord M across to Guernsey.”
Gabriel was nodding. “And if the wedding has to be postponed, surely George would be the one to make that decision. It’s his wedding.”
Pierre’s heart fell. On the one hand, if Lord M needed treatment, George was the one to make it happen; on the other hand, Lord M’s health wasn’t going to be improved by an argument. And postponing the wedding and cancelling two thousand guests would be a disaster likely to give him another stroke.
Liam spoke into the silence, “Millie.”
Of all of them, he’d been quiet throughout the discussion. But when he spoke, he said the most important thing.
Pierre threw her arms around him. “Of course. It’ll have to be Millie. If anyone can persuade him to do anything, it’s her.”
“He’ll do anything for her,” Nurse Ann agreed.
“That’s true.” Mrs B nodded, and finally a smile broke out on her kind face. “She’ll also know how to tell George and keep him from upsetting his father.”
“Okay, we’re agreed then. You,” Nurse Ann told Adam, “will talk to Millie. Do it as soon as she gets here. If a thing needs doing, best do it fast; it won’t get any easier with time.”
Relief went round the table like a Mexican wave. Even Adam smiled.
Millie and George would sort everything out.
People picked up their forks and knives and began eating their lunch. Cook unfolded her arms from her chest and relaxed. “In the meantime, let’s keep him as calm as possible,” she said. “Especially Laura and Nicole. They need to put their knives away.”
“Laura’s fine.” Adam wore a curiously soft expression. “I’ll tell her to keep out of Nicole’s way.”
“I’ll speak to Nic,” Gabriel said.
For some reason, the shortened name made Pierre’s stomach convulse. She dropped her head and stared at her food and made herself focus on eating. She hadn’t had breakfast and Cook’s fisherman’s pie was legendary. But just then, creamy mashed potato had never tasted so bland.
Why must he rub her nose in his happy relationship with his breakfast in bed and hisNic?
When Liam finished eating and got to his feet, she took the chance and pushed away from the table, too.
Gabriel followed her out.
Why couldn’t he leave her alone? Yes, she was easy-going and got on with everyone, but there were limits. She hurried her steps.
“Pierre?” He caught up with her in the hallway.
She moved away from him. “Any chance of getting those pictures?” she asked stiffly.
He looked like he’d been slapped. “Of course.” His eyes searched her face. “I can share the drive with you, and you can choose any that you like.”
“Thank you.” She turned to go.
“Pierre, are we okay?”
No, they bloody weren’t okay. They couldn’t be further from okay if he’d hit her with a medieval…
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
She turned back to him. “What’s that medieval weapon like a club with nails on the end?” she asked.
He blinked. “I don’t know. Why?”
“Just wondering.”
