“Don’t tell me it was used in Anglo-Saxon weddings.” He tried lightening the mood.
Yes, you’d know all about love that hurts. She stood there, unsmiling.
Stop being childish, she argued with herself. It’s not his fault that you feel…things you shouldn’t be feeling.
“Pierre?” he asked when she didn’t answer.
“What?” She shook her head to clear it.
“You and I, we are…” He paused as if weighing up his words then continued more quietly, “I was hoping I haven’t made things awkward because of what I said the other night.”
“No, of course not,” she answered too quickly.
His eyes searched her face. “I think I probably did. I’m sorry, I knew I shouldn’t have said anything, but–”
“That cider was too strong,” she jumped in, trying to smooth the atmosphere, to redirect the conversation.
“I’m sorry. I really should have kept my mouth shut. Because...” He took a step closer. “Because I think we’re friends. And I’d hate to…well…” His eyes held hers. “Your friendship means a lot to me.”
He didn’t want much did he?
As if marrying ‘Nic’ and being faithful to ‘Nic’ weren’t enough, he’d also like Pierre’s friendship too. No matter how much it might cost her.
“I’d hate to lose you.” His eyes darkened to a deep brown.
Her traitorous heart melted. “You won’t. I’m sorry if I snapped at you earlier. I’m just worried about…”You, me, Nic, and that horrible pain in my heart.“Everything,” she finished with a vague gesture at the stairs leading up to the first floor and Lord M’s rooms.
“I know. I can tell you are.” He followed her gaze up the stairs. “If there is anything I can do to help,anything,” he emphasised the word, his voice warm with emotion. “Please ask me.”
“I’m just going to focus on getting him a draft of the article he wants. If nothing else, it will distract him.”
“Okay, I’ll bring my hard drive over to your office in a minute and we can look over all the photographs.”
“There you are,” Nicole said from half-way up the stairs.
Why did the woman always stand on the stairs and look down on people from a great height?
Her eyes flicked between them suspiciously. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing, we’re just discussing the article Lord M wants us to write.” Pierre stepped away from Gabriel. “I’d better make a start.” She ran up the stairs, circling round the other woman.
Nicole’s eyes followed her all the way to the office.
“Can we talk?” She heard Nicole asking in a different voice, a much nicer voice. “I have good news…” She glanced back towards Pierre’s office. “Let’s go to our room; it’s more private.”
Pierre told herself the words ‘more private’ weren’t directed at her personally. Nicole probably liked having him in her room which seemed to double as office, bedroom, and more recently, a romantic restaurant. What was it Cook said they’d ordered for that night’s dinner? Some American menu, no doubt because Nicole was already getting into character, psyching them both up for life in LA where all the food was...
Whatever it was, and whether Cook managed to make it, didn’t seem to have gone down well. Nicole’s voice at ten o’clock that night was loud either in anger or disapproval.
“Oh, isn’t that nice!” she suddenly exploded.
Pierre was in the middle of changing out of her clothes and hadn’t even heard any movement on the other side of the wall before the outburst.
“You all had a cosy chat and didn’t even think of including me. George and Millie areMYclients. It’sMYjob to make sure everything runs smoothly.”
Gabriel answered, a long answer, in his quiet tones.
“And how dare they? That ragtag bunch of servants giving me instructions. How dare they tell me not to talk to His Lordship!”
