“She has been very supportive. I know she can seem hard, at times, but when it comes to her family, there’s nothing she wouldn’t do for them. I needed someone to hold my hand at the appointment. You’ve met my mother—can you imagine leaning on her in your hour of need?” They shared a look of understanding. “I needed someone I could trust, someone who knew me, who wouldn’t fuss. Grand-mère came, and afterwards, we drove in silence to their chateaux, where she opened an exceptionally good bottle of champagne and sat with me while I cried. She didn’t offer platitudes or false hope, she simply let me get it out, and when I told her I would need to leave Olivier, she just said, he’d be a fool to let me go, under any circumstances.”
“She was right.”
“I didn’t give him any choice. A man can’t force a woman to stay married.”
“Why does he think you left him?”
“That was the hardest part,” Fleur whispered. “I had to make sure he gave up hope, and so I lied to him. I told him I was bored with him, that I was no longer in love.” More silent tears fell. “Nothing could be further from the truth.”
After their meal,conversation turned lighter, and Fleur, having gotten the truth off her chest, seemed in much better spirits. She peppered their conversation with talk of the wedding, with suggestions for where it could be held, and guests she recommended omitting, making Skye laugh with her descriptions of their behaviour at previous society events, as well as dress styles that might suit Skye, with no idea that the event would never take place. With no idea that every mention of it was like a knife to Skye’s heart, because suddenly, that wedding was all she wanted. Even more than her father’s property?
They walked out of the restaurant together, turning right and taking slow, meandering steps along the footpath, Skye feeling a true connection to Fleur, a burgeoning friendship, and a deep affection owing to the other woman’s having confided in her. As they passed a hair salon, Skye looked at the posters longingly, and subconsciously lifted a hand to her own hair, tousling the long, mousy brown lengths.
“Shall we go inside?” Fleur teased. “We can complete your Cinderella makeover.”
Skye’s first instinct was to demur, but when she caught sight of her reflection in the salon’s windows, and saw the elegant woman staring back at her, confidence straightened her spine.
“Why not?”
Approval lifted Fleur’s lips into a smile. Though they hadn’t made an appointment, the appearance of Fleur de Garmeaux was obviously not an everyday occurrence, and a senior stylist was miraculously, immediately available to consult with Skye. They settled on a modification of her existing style – just a few changes. The length was lightened, layers chopped in, so her hair fell loose around her face, rather than in one heavy wave, and a few foils were added then tinted, so instead of a block of dark brown, her hair had depth and texture. The conditioning treatment added shine and gloss, and the blow-dry enormous waves, so when they left the salon almost two hours later, she felt like a whole new woman.
“Thank you for today,” Skye said, seriously, as they made their way down a side street, towards Matthieu’s home. She toyed with her necklace, moving it from side to side.
“It was a pleasure.” Fleur’s eyes fell to the necklace. “That suits you.”
“Oh.” Skye dropped her hand, guiltily. “It’s very extravagant. Matthieu shouldn’t have bought it for me.”
“He didn’t. That’s one of his mother’s pieces. I recognized it the moment I saw the photos online.” Fleur linked her arm through Skye’s. “It’s right that you should wear it.”
No, it was wrong. So, so wrong. Skye was stricken, and confused. Why had Matthieu given this to her? Why had he given it to her with such an air of casual disregard, as though it didn’t really matter if she kept it or sold it, as though he didn’t care less what happened to the thing?
She didn’t know. In fact, the only thing she understood for certain was that after her day with Fleur, Skye needed some time to herself to make sense of everything she’d learned. Fleur had painted a picture for Skye today, but it looked completely different to the one Skye had originally perceived.
And the lie they’d been telling, which Skye had thought was harmless on Matthieu’s side, was suddenly a poisoned chalice. His family—with the exception of Margot—would be just as devastated by this deception as hers would have been. Skye could no longer lie to them and not care. Which meant what, exactly?