“That sounds so pretty.”
Noelle’s spirits lifted at Daria’s comment. It was the most animated the girl had been all day.
“I know it’s not one of the designs you initially chose,” Noelle said, taking over Calantha’s role and helping Daria step out of the rejected gown. Handing the dress to the head of alterations, she made a surreptitious shooing gesture. The woman understood. Noelle wanted the bride’s attention to be 100 percent on the new design. “But I think you’ll find that the dress is much more striking in person than on paper.”
The door opened, and Calantha entered with Woodland Snow. Daria’s breath caught as she glimpsed the gown and her brown eyes brightened. This was the reaction Noelle had been hoping for.
“It’s beautiful,” Daria murmured, reaching out to finger one of the organza flowers sewn onto the sheer white overlay. “I remember this dress. It was my favorite.”
Noelle bit the inside of her lip to keep from asking the girl why she hadn’t fought for the design. She already knew the answer. Reports stated her father was spending upward of eleven million euro on the wedding. Daria was marrying the son of a very wealthy Italian count, and the event promised to make a huge media splash. The wedding dress Daria wore would have to be over-the-top to start tongues wagging, and this gown’s beauty was in the details.
Working quickly, Noelle and Calantha slipped the gown over Daria’s head and settled it into place. The young bride stood with her back to the three-way mirror to allow for the perfect reveal. First impressions were the strongest, and Noelle wanted the young woman to fall in love all at once.
“Okay, you may turn around.”
Daria stared at her reflection. Tears filled her eyes. “It’s perfect.”
The gown was a single layer of white chiffon sewn with fluttering organza flowers and a scattering of pearls that mimicked clustered berries over a strapless nude liner. The simple boat neckline and capped sleeves drew the eye to Daria’s striking bone structure and beautiful brown eyes. The other dresses had overpowered her, emphasizing her youth and inexperience. But as Noelle watched her consider her appearance, Daria’s expression took on a look of proud determination.
“Do you want to show your family?”
Daria shook her head. “There is no reason. This is my wedding and I want this dress. They can see it on my wedding day.”
Noelle nodded. “I’ll send Yvonne in to see what alterations are needed. I’m thrilled we were able to find you the perfect wedding dress.”
She excused herself and headed into the room that held Daria’s family. With a smile that balanced diplomacy and firmness, Noelle announced that Daria had chosen a dress and was looking forward to surprising everyone with her choice on her wedding day. There was a mixture of surprise and annoyance on the women’s faces.
An hour later, the exhausting group was gone, and Noelle dropped into a chair in her now-empty salon. To her delight, the young heiress had paid for the dress herself, declaring that by doing so the only opinion that mattered was her own. Noelle’s staff joyously broke out the bottles of champagne reserved for occasions like these and joined their employer in celebrating.
Noelle was halfway through her third glass when the tinkle of a bell announced someone had entered the shop’s reception room. Waving her staff back to their seats, she went to speak to their visitor. Two-and-a-half glasses of champagne consumed over an hour and a half were not enough to make Noelle tipsy, but the sight of Christian’s imposing presence for the second time in one day made her head spin.
“Christian? What are you doing here?”
“I want you and Marc to join me at my vineyard this weekend.”
She frowned as her body reacted positively to his invitation. “That’s moving much too quick.”
“I’m sorry, but I don’t want to spend months and months tiptoeing around. I want to marry you and be Marc’s father. He needs to know who I am and that you and I are serious about becoming a family.”
Thanks to her nerve-racking encounter with the queen and the Greek bride’s chaotic family, Noelle’s diplomatic skills were in short supply. “But what if I’m not serious?”
“Come to the vineyard this weekend and let’s talk.”
“Just talk?” She suspected Christian would love nothing more than to get her horizontal to plead his case. “I’m not the susceptible girl I once was. You won’t be able to seduce me into agreeing with you.”