“I’m very pleased to meet you,” Skye said after a small pause.
“When is the wedding?” Anais responded immediately.
Skye looked to Matthieu.
“We are not in any rush.”
“I hope you are in some rush,” Anais contradicted. “It would be nice for your grandfather to be there.”
“It is nice for grand-père to meet Skye, my fiancé,” Matthieu corrected quietly. “Which he will do in the morning.”
“Yes, a fiancé is nice,” Anais said with another tight smile for Skye. “But a wife is better.”
“Isn’t the point of a fiancé that it is a prelude to become a spouse?”
“And if that is the point, why delay?” Anais responded promptly. “We can make things ready for Christmas.”
“But you already know Skye’s family cannot be here then. That would hardly be fair.”
“Surely for a wedding, they’d make an exception.”
“Grand-mère, this is the only wedding either of us intends to have. We are not going to rush it, even for Lucien’s sake.”
Anais compressed her lips, disapproval obvious. “Matthieu, perhaps we should speak privately.”
“Grand-mère—,”
“It’s okay,” Skye said with a small shake of her head. “I left your sweater in the lounge. I’ll go get it and meet you upstairs.” And before he could contradict her, she offered Anais an over-bright smile. “Thank you for dinner, Grand-mère.”
“Thank you for coming, dear. Bon nuit.”
“Bon nuit.”
Skye turned and walked away, the tension between grandmother and grandson having caused her nerves to jangle all over the place.
The doorway to the dining room was wide and open, and as she approached, it was the sound of her name that had her pausing. She didn’t intend to eavesdrop, but curiosity held her still for just a moment, and then, she couldn’t move.
“It is history repeating itself. How can you not see that?”
“I wasn’t there the first time,” Fleur’s voice was reasonable, and, if anything, infused with humour.
“Well, I was. This has disaster written all over it.”
“Because she doesn’t wear de Garmeaux?”
“Because she doesn’t wear any designer,” Margot’s voice seethed. “Do you really think he can go from Clare to her?”
“You’re a snob, mother.”
“I’m only looking out for Matthieu. There is no one else who can do that for him now—,”
“I beg your pardon, but I think Matthieu is more than capable of taking care of himself.”
“Really? Then how come he let Clare go? You know how madly in love they were.”
“Sometimes you can love someone with all your heart and it doesn’t work out.” Fleur’s voice cracked a little, but she cleared her throat to cover it. “They broke up over two years ago. It’s over, for both of them.”
“You don’t think he’s doing this just to rub her nose in it?”