It Started at a Wedding.... Kate Hardy

fair warning, if you tell Ash you hate it before she puts it on, so she feels like the ugliest bride in the world instead of like a princess, then you’re so getting the rusty spoon treatment.’

      ‘I don’t hate it, actually. I’m just a bit stunned, because I wasn’t expecting it to be that good,’ he admitted.

      She dropped into a sarcastic curtsey. ‘Why, thank you, kind sir, for the backhanded compliment.’

      ‘I didn’t mean it quite like that,’ he said. ‘I don’t know much about dresses, but that looks as if it involved a lot of work.’

      ‘It did. But she’s worth every second.’

      ‘Yeah.’ For a moment, he almost turned to her and hugged her.

      But this was Claire ‘Follow Your Heart’ Stewart, the mistress of chaos. Their worlds didn’t mix. A hug would be a bad, bad idea. ‘Thanks for letting me see the dress,’ he said. ‘I’d better let you get on.’

      ‘Tell Ash her dress is here safely, and I’ll come and find her the second it’s ready.’

      He nodded. ‘Will do.’

      * * *

      Once Claire was satisfied with the dress, she took it through to Ashleigh’s room. Sammy opened the door. ‘Claire-bear! About time, too,’ she said with a grin. ‘Losing the dress. Tsk. What kind of dressmaker does that?’

      ‘Don’t be mean, Sammy,’ Ashleigh called. ‘I’d cuff her for you, Claire, but I have to sit still and let Aliona take these rollers out of my hair.’

      Claire hung up the dress, then enveloped Sammy with a hug. ‘Hello to you, too. How was your flight?’

      ‘Disgusting,’ Sammy said cheerfully, ‘but when I’ve finished taking photographs tonight then I’m going to drink Prosecco until I don’t care any more.’

      ‘Hangover on top of jet lag. Nice,’ Claire teased. ‘It’s so good to see you, Sammy.’

      ‘You, too. And oh, my God. How amazing is that dress? You’ve really surpassed yourself this time, Claire.’

      Claire smiled in acknowledgement. ‘I’m just glad we got it back.’

      The hotel’s hairdresser and make-up artist cooed over the dress, too, and then Claire submitted to being prettied up before putting on her own dress and then helping Ashleigh with hers.

      Sammy posed them both for photographs on the balcony. ‘Righty. I need to do the boys, now,’ she said when she’d finished. ‘See you at the town hall.’

      ‘OK?’ Claire asked when Sammy had gone.

      Ashleigh gulped. ‘Yes. Just thinking.’

      ‘I know.’ It would be similar for Claire, if she ever got married: she’d be missing her mum, though her dad would be there—if he approved of Claire’s choice of man—and her mum’s family would be there, with Ashleigh and Sammy to support her.

      Not that Claire thought she’d ever get married. All the men she’d ever been involved with had turned out to be Mr Wrong. Men she’d thought would share her dreams, but who just couldn’t commit. Men who’d been so casual with her emotions that she’d lost trust in her judgement.

      ‘But I think they’re here in spirit,’ Claire said softly. ‘They loved you so much, Ash. And Luke can’t wait to make you his bride. You’ve got a good guy, there.’

      ‘I know. I’m lucky.’ Ashleigh swallowed hard.

      ‘Hey. If you cry and your make-up runs, Sean will have my guts for garters,’ Claire said. She went into a dramatic pose. ‘Help! Help! Save me from your scary big brother!’

      To her relief, it worked, and Ashleigh laughed; she was still smiling when Sean knocked on her door to say they needed to go.