“Have some dignity, girl.” His less-than-friendly tone chilled the air around them. “I chose someone else. Move on.”
He hated the hurt in her eyes, but it was necessary. Necessary to keep her away when Camille left and Julian played the dutiful, but abandoned husband. He neither needed nor wanted any comfort from Madeleine. Hopefully his treatment of her now would compel her to disregard him when the time came.
“You’ll change your mind.”
This was worse than he’d thought, and required drastic measures. “Pack your things. I want you gone by the time I get back.”
“Get back? Where are you going?”
“On my honeymoon.”
She glared at him for a moment, like she had something else to say, but instead, picked up the hem of her dress and trotted across the lawn toward the house.
Good. Now that that’s taken care of....
Julian turned and faced his guests. Scanning the crowd, his bride was gone too. He checked his watch. Soren was probably on his way back by now. If he’d had trouble carrying out his mission, he would’ve called. A semblance of relief reassured Julian. At least something was going to go right today.
He stepped back inside the tent’s entrance just in time to see Papa swoop into Andre’s empty chair and commandeer Tasha’s attention. Julian didn’t trust Papa, not entirely. Stealth mode was the best course of action. Julian walked around the perimeter of the tent and slipped in through the back entrance. He paused, unnoticed, behind a wall of flowers next to the bride and groom’s table.
The sweet scent of lavender overwhelmed him, but he didn’t find it nearly as offensive as Madeleine’s perfume.
“My dear, it was so nice of you to drop everything,” Papa said, “and join us for Julian’s wedding at the last minute.”
Papa had left Camille’s name out on purpose. But Julian had a feeling Papa’s innuendos were going to be wasted on Tasha.
“Well,” Tasha said, in a serene voice. “Nothing’s more important than my best friend’s wedding.”
Good. She’s keeping the conversation amiable and neutral.
“I hope your boss doesn’t feel so inconvenienced that it will affect your job.”
Papa was fishing. Julian hoped Tasha didn’t bite.
“Well, I do freelance work,” she said politely. “And I’m between gigs right now. So, there’s no worries.”
She’s really good. It would serve Papa right if Andre did manage to steal her heart.
“You are a delightful girl, Tasha.” Maurice’s tone took on an air of indulgence. That worried Julian. It was Papa’s lure of choice when the fish weren’t biting. “Where prey tell did you and Camille meet?”
Her answer came after a split-second of silence. “Camille and I met in an acting class.”
“Well, now...you don’t say.”
Julian slid his hands in his pockets and emerged from behind the partition. So what if Papa found out Camille was an actress. Big deal.
“Papa...” he eased up to the table and sat next to his father. “You’re not pestering this young lady, are you?” he asked in an offhanded and joking manner. One he knew Papa would recognize for its hidden gravity. Julian was pretty sure the man had invented it himself.
“Me? Pester a lovely young lady?” he asked, as if that was a ridiculous notion. “Absolutely not.” He added his boisterous trademark laughter, knowing it intimidated most people.
What Papa didn’t know was that it hadn’t intimidated Julian for quite some time. He’d been waiting for the perfect moment, and decided the time had come for his demands.
Julian leaned closer to his father. “When I return from my honeymoon—” His soft whispering tone tangled with the hardened stare he was caught up in with Papa. Julian didn’t blink. “—I want Madeleine out of the house.”
“Boy, don’t presume to tell me what or who to invite into my home.” Maurice kept his voice low, but stern.
“Either she goes, or Camille and I will move into town.” Julian played his hand, but it wasn’t a bluff. He was prepared to move out of Pacifique de Lumière because the only thing Maurice de Laurent hated more than being told what to do, was being abandoned by his family. Julian smirked and leaned back into his chair. “I do believe Claudette is looking for you.”
Papa’s head crooked around, as if in spy mode, searching for his wife.
Julian leaned closer before Papa had the chance to escape. “You wouldn’t know what happened to my wife’s dress, would you?”
Papa looked stunned. “You think I had something to do with that?”
Julian studied his face. “In a word...yes. I wouldn’t put it past you.”
“Julian, I swear to you...” he said, raising a hand in the air as if giving an oath. “I had nothing to do with the disappearance of that wedding gown. Claudette would have my head.”
That was true. Claudette didn’t mess around when it came to fashion, and high-priced fashion at that. Julian doubted Papa would risk the doghouse just to upset Camille. No, this had to be Madeleine’s doing.
Camille appeared in his peripheral vision, headed toward him, still wearing the same length-shrinking dress. She’d let her hair down, and he found the look, although a bit on the wild side, just as pleasing as before the rain. The perfect picture of grace, she greeted their guests with polite smiles and gestures as she passed them by. Julian swelled with pride.
He stood, pulled her chair out and waited. She smiled as she sat, and something in her manner soothed him. “I wondered where you’d gone off to,” he said, returning to his seat.
“Just freshening up a bit.” She surveyed the crowd around them with a quick glance. “So what’s on the agenda for this evening?” She settled her gaze on Julian. “We do need to talk.”
He chuckled. “We’ll have plenty of time to talk about whatever your heart desires. There’s going to be nobody but you and me for the next ten days...well, you, me and a small crew.”
Camille studied his face. No doubt trying to figure out the mystery surrounding his elusive clue. But he wasn’t telling.
“Am I going to regret this?”
Julian pretended to consider it. “No,” he said, shaking his head. “I can pretty much guarantee you’re going to love it.” He smiled and winked.
“Full of yourself, aren’t you?” she asked, half-serious, half-teasing.