WILL CHEATSPEARE! Screamed the headline above a photograph of a man in a biker jacket staring down at a woman clad in a white dressing gown. It took the familiar twin grey bands encircling the arms of the jacket for Will to register he was looking at a picture of himself with Phillipa Cornwall.
Feeling sick now, he flicked to another tabloid homepage WILL NICKS TONY’S JULIET. If anything, the photo they’d used was even more damning than the previous one, as it showed Phillipa standing on tiptoe to kiss his cheek.
‘Shit.’ Will tossed the phone onto the bed, then raised his hands to cover his eyes, as though he could somehow shield himself from what he’d already seen. ‘Shit, shit, shit.’
‘What’s the matter?’
He opened his eyes to see Igraine reaching for his phone. ‘Leave it!’ he snapped, but it was already too late.
‘Is that you?’ Igraine frowned at the screen. ‘And who’s the woman you’re with?’ He watched in silent dread as her eyes flicked back and forth as she took in the lurid details and innuendo in the story below the image. When she met his gaze, her expression was incredulous. ‘Phillipa Cornwall? The Phillipa Cornwall?’
‘She was a client, nothing more,’ he said, crossly, trying to take the phone back off her. ‘It’s all bollocks.’
‘Just like Melody wasn’t your girlfriend, right? It doesn’t look like bollocks,’ she retorted, tucking the phone behind her back when he made a snatch for it. ‘It looks like you’re snogging a married woman on her bloody doorstep.’
‘Not snogging! She kissed me on the cheek, for God’s sake. Bloody hell, you’re as bad as they are, reading more into something than there is.’
Her brows shot up, and when she spoke, her tone was icy. ‘Don’t speak to me like that. There’s a photo of you being kissed by a famous actress wearing nothing more than a dressing gown splashed across the front page of a national newspaper, so I don’t think you’re in any position to take the moral high ground with me!’
Throwing back the covers, he jumped out of bed and reached for a pair of shorts. Yanking them on, he turned to face her, hating the look of distrust on her face. ‘Christ, if that’s what you think of me, you’d better get the hell out of my bed.’
‘Good idea!’ She tossed his phone down and got out, marching towards the bedroom door.
She’d almost reached it, when common sense crashed through the anger and he ran to catch her, shoving the door shut just as she’d tugged it open. ‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be taking it out on you.’
Igraine stayed with her back towards him, shoulders high around her ears. ‘You said she was a client …’
‘And only a client, I swear to you. I showed up because she wanted some alterations to a job I’d quoted and she tried to throw herself at me.’ Taking a risk, he placed a hand around her arm. ‘It was the same day you phoned me, that was why I was so distracted and didn’t pay proper attention to what you were saying to me.’
She turned to face him. ‘You were in her house when I called?’
Nodding, he reached for her hand. ‘You saved me from the most embarrassing situation of my life. Turns out Tony Cornwall isn’t the hero everyone thinks he is. He’s cheated on her for years, and she thought she might be able to get her own back.’ Gesturing behind him towards the phone on the bed, he continued to explain, hoping she’d believe what was sounding ridiculous to his own ears. ‘She got really upset and ended up pouring the whole sorry story out to me over a cup of tea. That kiss was nothing, just her way of saying thank you because I didn’t embarrass her.’
Igraine’s expression softened. ‘Poor thing, she must’ve been mortified.’
The relief flooding through him threatened to make him giddy. She believed him. Thank God.
A scowl of suspicion clouded her face. ‘Is that why you changed your mind and took the job up here?’
It was on the tip of his tongue to deny it completely, but any lie between them now could spell disaster. ‘I won’t deny that the chance to escape London had its merits, but I wouldn’t use you like that. As soon as I saw the photos you’d taken, I fell in love with the place.’ He reached for her hand, deciding there should be total honesty between them. ‘Bluebell Castle isn’t the only thing I’m falling in love with.’
He could tell he’d taken her by surprise from the way she stared up at him, mouth shaping a little ‘O’ of surprise. ‘Iggy,’ he reached for her hand, but his bloody phone started beeping again.
‘We’ll talk later.’ With a smile that could hardly be called encouraging, she evaded his grasp and slipped out of the room.
‘Damn,’ he said to the empty air, wondering if he should go after her. His phone beeped again, and the next curse which left his lips wasn’t so mild. He needed to sorted this mess out first, and just hope his hasty words hadn’t inadvertently created another.
Chapter 16
Dread had filled Igraine at the prospect of Helena tagging along to Lucie’s dress shopping day. It was bad enough feeling like an intruder herself, but her mother had never been one for taking a back seat and Iggy feared she would steamroller over quiet, gentle Constance. Added to that was the constant feedback loop in her brain. Will had said he loved her-well, as near as made no difference-and she’d bolted from the room like a startled colt.
She’d regretted leaving the moment she walked out of his room, but then she’d seen her mother’s bedroom door opening and she’d been too busy sprinting around the corner before she got caught sneaking around to worry about it. Showered and dressed, she’d been sucked into the vortex of Hurricane Helena and was still reeling. Though, she’d been an absolute angel to both Lucie and Constance, she’d still taken every chance to have a little dig at Iggy whenever the other two weren’t around.
When they arrived at the boutique, Helena immediately ordered a bottle of champagne to be served-making a big show of assuring them she would pay for it-and something of a party atmosphere settled over the private fitting room on the upper floor of the boutique.
Only when Lucie actively sought her opinion, confessing to feeling hopeless in the face of so many different shapes and styles of gowns did Helena speak up. She pulled the boutique owner into the discussion, and the two of them debated the pros and cons of fishtails, empire and princess lines, most of which had gone straight over Iggy’s head. She knew how to dress herself, knew what suited her shape but had never been a follower of any particular fashion trend.
When it came to what Iggy should be wearing, however, Helena showed no such restraint. Not wanting to cause a scene on Lucie’s special day, Iggy had grabbed a handful of gowns and retreated into one of the changing rooms for a respite. She should’ve known it would take more than a curtain to keep Helena at bay.
‘What about this one? It’s not too fussy and will make the most of your figure.’ A hand dangling a drape of sage green satin from a padded hanger thrust through the changing room curtain, followed a few moments later by her mother’s face. ‘The colour will look lovely and fresh, even on the hottest day.’ She waved the hanger towards Iggy, indicating she should take it.
Iggy stared for a moment, waiting for the other shoe to drop, for one of Helena’s trademark acid asides to take the sheen off the seeming pleasant façade. It didn’t take long.
‘You should really invest in some Spanx, darling, they’re a godsend for women with ample hips like yours.’
It took all of her willpower not to look in the mirror behind her, or to drop a hand to shield the curves of her body. She was fit and healthy and had no issues with her physique, but it still stung her pride. Wordlessly, she took the dress her mother had brought, and hung it on the hook in front of her so she could study the lines more closely.
The simple sheath had spaghetti-thin straps, a scooped cowl neckline which would hint at rather than reveal her décolletage and a flowing skirt created by some cleverly inserted extra panels of material. Though she wanted to reject it out of sheer irritation with her mother,
she couldn’t stop looking at it. It was gorgeous, and-she reached out a tentative finger to stroke the shiny fabric-soft as a cloud. ‘Don’t you think it’s a little bit strappy for church?’
‘There’s a jacket that goes with it.’ Helena thrust her other hand through the curtain.
Trying to ignore the smug expression on her mother’s face, Iggy studied the lace bolero jacket in the exact same shade as the dress. The sleeves looked as though they would come to the middle of her upper arms, and the scalloped edges of the lace would soften the muscular lines of her triceps. It was a more delicate garment than she would have instinctively chosen for herself, but her heart skipped a little at the sight of it.
‘I know it’s not your sort of thing, but it won’t do any harm to dress a bit more femininely even if it’s only for one day. All I’ve seen you in so far is jeans and trousers.’
‘I was wearing a dress the day you arrived,’ Iggy retorted before she could stop herself. Damn it, she knew better than to let Helena know any of her petty strikes were hitting their mark.
‘If you can call it that. It looked like something you’d stolen from one of your brother’s wardrobes.’ Helena shook her head. ‘Your father always did spoil you, letting you run wild instead of ensuring you had the kind of education fitting for a lady.’
Okay, now she’d gone too far. ‘Don’t you dare say one word against him, Mother. Not. One. Word.’
‘I’m only trying to do what’s best for you, Igraine, that’s all. I’ll go and see how Lucie’s doing and give you a chance to get a hold of yourself.’ Lower lip trembling, Helena flounced through the curtain.
Feeling hot and bothered, Iggy pressed her face against the cool glass of the mirror. ‘God, give me the strength not to strangle her before the day is out,’ she muttered.
Tempted as she was to hide out in the dressing room for the rest of the morning, there was no way of avoiding Helena forever. Deciding to bite the bullet and get it over with, Iggy reached for the dress. It fit like it had been handmade for her. Clinging where it needed to and skimming over her hips and thighs to fall to her feet. The hem brushed the floor, but once she had suitable shoes on, the length would be perfect.
Taking care with the delicate lace of the bolero jacket, she slipped it over her shoulders and settled the edges so they framed the soft cowl neck of the dress. It instantly transformed the dress from sophisticated to demure and would be perfect to wear in church, and for the official photographs. She could always take it off later once the reception got into full swing. A small smile played over her lips as she imagined the look on Will’s face when she removed the jacket before they took to the floor for a slow dance. Panic and pleasure rippled through her. Will had said he loved her.
‘How are you getting on, darling?’ It was Helena again, sounding for all the world as though they shopped together every day, and had fun whilst they were at it.
At least the interruption stopped her mooning over Will. She couldn’t think about him now, couldn’t give voice to the hopes and fears his earlier declaration had stirred up within her. Today was all about Lucie and the wedding. ‘I’m coming out.’ Taking one last look over her reflection, Iggy sucked in a deep breath and pulled the curtains open.
‘Oh.’ She wasn’t sure which of the two women seated on the circular banquette in the middle of the room had made the little sound, but they were both beaming up at her, Helena with a hint of triumph, Constance with tears sparkling in her eyes.
‘You look beautiful,’ Constance said. ‘Simply gorgeous.’ Dabbing a finger to the corner of her eye, she turned to Helena beside her. ‘You really have the perfect eye for this kind of thing. Perhaps you’d like to help me with my outfit, too.’
Iggy gulped, hoping Constance knew what she was letting herself in for. Although, it had to be said that Helena had been on her very best behaviour towards Lucie, so perhaps she’d manage to do the same towards Constance, too.
Helena inclined her head like a queen bestowing her favour on a minion. ‘I’d be delighted, Connie, simply delighted. Once we know what the girls are wearing, we can coordinate accordingly.’
‘Well, I’m wearing green,’ Iggy declared, unable to resist the temptation to turn on the spot, sending the skirt of her gown twirling. She simply adored the dress and she would not say otherwise as much as she might enjoy throwing something back in her mother’s face.
It suddenly occurred to her that the most important person wasn’t present. ‘Umm, unless Lucie doesn’t want me to, of course.’
‘Doesn’t want you to what?’ Lucie appeared from the opposite dressing room, clutching the front of a strapless ivory dress studded with twinkling aurora borealis crystals to her chest, the boutique manager in her wake, still trying to fasten the hooks of the bodice together. The bride-to-be stopped dead. ‘Oh my goodness, look at you!’
‘Look at you!’ Iggy echoed, gaze roaming over the acres of net skirts flowing from the bottom of the fitted, crystal-encrusted bodice. ‘I love that dress!’
Lucie cast a dubious stare down the gaping front of her gown. ‘Do you think so? I’m not exactly filling it out in all the right places.’
Helena was on her feet in an instant. ‘Lift your arms out of the way, dear, and let Lorraine finish fastening it up.’ With efficient hands, she replaced Lucie’s hold on the dress, tugging it here, twisting it a little there whilst the boutique owner fiddled with the tiny hooks at the back. ‘There, that’s a lot better.’ Helena stepped back, then forwards again to pinch a bit of excess material in the bodice tight. ‘A couple of tucks on either side, and it will fit you just fine.’ She looked past Lucie to the boutique owner. ‘Can we do the adjustments without ruining the line of the bodice?’
Lorraine moved to Lucie’s other side, taking her own pinch of material. ‘If we put them under the arms, they wouldn’t show,’ she mused.
Lucie caught Iggy’s gaze and rolled her eyes. Returning a sympathetic smile, Iggy said. ‘It’s your job to stand still and get talked about, you might as well get used to it!’
Lucie giggled, then turned her attention towards Constance. ‘What do you think, Mum?’
Constance studied her daughter for a long minute, before looking at the two women still tugging and fussing at the top of her dress. ‘You look stunning, darling, but don’t forget you have to wear it all day. It doesn’t matter what I think, or what anyone else thinks, for that matter.’ She cast a significant glance at Helena who’d quietened to listen to her, much to Iggy’s amazement. ‘If you feel anything less than a hundred per cent confident in it, then I think you should try something else.’
Lucie glanced down. ‘I do feel a little bit exposed,’ she admitted. ‘But I love all the sparkle, and-’ she gathered handfuls of the tulle net skirt ‘-I absolutely love this.’
‘Hold on a moment, I might have the answer.’ Lorraine disappeared down the stairs leading to the main showroom floor below, heels clacking on the wooden treads.
While the manager was away, Iggy took the opportunity to return to her dressing room and remove her dress. Much as she loved it, she didn’t want to risk spoiling it. Returning a few minutes later in her jeans and T-shirt, she took a seat beside Constance. ‘Where’s Mother?’
‘Helping Lucie with her hooks.’ She nodded towards the closed curtains on the other dressing room, face pensive.
‘Are you okay?’
Blinking away the distant look in her eyes, Constance smiled. ‘What? Oh, yes, I’m fine, just hoping I didn’t put my foot in it.’
‘About Lucie’s dress?’ When Constance nodded, Iggy continued. ‘You know Lucie better than anyone and you could obviously tell that although we were all raving about it, there was something not quite right.’ She patted Constance’s hand. ‘Mother’s got a hide thicker than a rhino’s so don’t worry about offending her.’
Constance tried and failed to give her a disapproving look, and Iggy wondered if perhaps she wasn’t falling for Helena’s flannel as much as it
might seem. Perhaps Lancelot had confided in her about what lay at the heart of his dislike for Helena, Iggy thought as she settled back on the bench. ‘It will take as long as it takes. We’ve got nothing else to do all day other than find Lucie the dress that’s perfect for her-even if it means trying on everything in the shop.’
Lorraine’s heels clacked on the stairs once more and she appeared with a huge confection of beads and gauzy net hooked over both arms. ‘Sorry I took so long but it wasn’t hanging where I thought it was.’ Reaching up, she hooked the hanger of the dress on a high hook beside Lucie’s dressing room. She fiddled and fussed with it before at last stepping back and giving Iggy a good look at it.
The crystal-encrusted bodice was indeed similar to the dress Lucie had tried on, and it had the same kind of voluminous skirt, though this one had a sheer layer of organza covering the tulle, with an inch-wide band of crystals hemming the base of it. What made it stand out from the other dress was that rather than being strapless, this one had an upper panel of sheer organza connected to the bodice and full sleeves of the same material. Iggy didn’t think she’d seen anything more beautiful in all her life.
‘Are you ready for me in there?’ Lorraine asked before peeking inside the curtain. ‘Don’t worry about all those hooks, I’ll sort it out later. Now, shall we swap places?’
Iggy was relieved when Helena took the hint and retreated from the dressing room and came to sit beside her. Constance leaned across to the table beside her and handed them both a glass of champagne. They sipped in nervous silence as whispers and rustles of material came from behind the curtain. It seemed to be taking an awful long time, which Iggy decided was either a really good sign, or a really bad one.
‘Umm, Mrs Kennington, can we borrow you for a minute?’ Lorraine called. Iggy held out her hand to take Constance’s glass as she rose and hurried over to the dressing room.
The Bluebell Castle Collection Page 43
