Wedding Promises. Jennifer Faye

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       CHAPTER EIGHT

      ELOISE REFUSED TO dwell on the memory of Noah’s kiss, instead throwing herself into traipsing around the Frost Fair to make sure that everything was going perfectly. Then, when the stallholders started looking irritated at her interference and Laurel assured her that she had everything in hand, Eloise stormed off back to the hotel to get out of her ridiculous costume and into something more appropriate for Melissa’s hen night.

      By the time the bride, bridesmaids and other favoured female guests were gathered for games, pink drinks and the wearing of feather boas in the main bar that evening, Eloise could still feel the memory of Noah’s lips against hers.

      How was she supposed to think about anything else after a kiss like that? She’d barely managed to focus on her job long enough to check everything was in place for the hen night. And choosing a dress... Well, what did one wear after wearing Juliet’s best frock all afternoon? Eloise’s wardrobe certainly had nothing so fancy. In the end, she’d settled on another navy dress—one of four in her wardrobe. This one, at least, was made of more slippery material than her thick, knitted work one, and it skimmed over her body in a way that suggested that she might actually have some curves under the fabric. Somewhere.

      Just in case Noah felt the sudden need to reprise their roles of Romeo and Juliet, she told herself. After all, if it was Juliet kissing Noah rather than Eloise, that couldn’t be so bad, right?

      No. That was crazy. And that was exactly the sort of thinking that had seen her mother fall into affair after affair with her leading men.

      Eloise had sworn her whole life that she wouldn’t make the same mistakes. That she wouldn’t get caught up in the spectacle of a love affair and miss the reality underneath. She’d rather a boring, predictable romance to the high drama of the ones her mother had enjoyed anyway. And she wouldn’t let movie star good looks and charm sway her from that.

      No matter how incredible his kisses were.

      They’d said friends. That was what she had to stick to. That was what she needed to get her through this nightmare of a wedding—a friend.

      ‘Of course, Eloise had loads of practice at being on stage, didn’t you?’ Melissa waved her champagne flute across the table in Eloise’s direction as she spoke, and Eloise scrambled to try and catch up on the conversation she’d been ignoring in favour of reliving Noah’s kiss.

      ‘Sorry?’

      Melissa rolled her eyes. ‘The girls were just talking about your performance at the Frost Fair this afternoon.’

      ‘You were fantastic!’ one of the guests Eloise had met only briefly, and didn’t recognise from the movies at all, said. She had a feeling the woman was the wife of a director or something similar. ‘You really brought the whole Frost Fair to life.’

      Eloise looked down at her hands to try and hide her blush.

      ‘And I was saying how you’d had lots of practice on the stage,’ Melissa went on. ‘Totally different to the movies, of course. But all those years taking part in those local plays with your mum was obviously good for something, wasn’t it?’

      Melissa’s gaze met hers as she spoke, and Eloise felt the threat in her words as she mentioned her mother. A chill ran through her at the calculating look in Melissa’s eyes. The unspoken message was clear: upstage the bride again, and everyone would get to hear about Eloise’s mother’s antics.

      Everything Eloise had spent the last ten years living down would be public knowledge all over again.

      ‘Perhaps it’s time for the first game?’ Eloise stood and clapped her hands together, deflecting the conversation away from herself.

      Melissa, mollified for the time being, beamed as her guests threw themselves into games that thrust her back into the centre of attention. Eloise, meanwhile, found herself watching from the sidelines, noting every other instance of Melissa manipulating the evening to keep herself on top. Like the way the bridesmaids were all just slightly less beautiful and famous than she was. Or how guests with little to give in a professional sense were kept on the outskirts of the gathering, while much attention was given to those in power—directors, actresses with more Hollywood pull. The tiered system Melissa had in place was obvious, now she knew what she was looking for.

      Clearly Melissa had managed to keep her reputation for sweetness intact in the film industry, the same way she always had when working at Morwen Hall. But Eloise was sure there must be people in Hollywood who had experienced the other side of Melissa too—as she had all those years ago.

      She couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if one of those people suddenly became more famous and powerful than Melissa.

      ‘Time for Balloon Question Time!’ Laurel, official hen party planner, clapped her hands and distracted the group from laughing at the male body parts they’d all been making out of modelling clay for the previous game. Eloise, having observed their efforts, was glad of the change of pace.

      ‘Now, this game has a bit of a twist,’ Laurel said, looking at Eloise with an apology in her eyes as she spoke. ‘We have twenty questions in these twenty balloons in the net. The pink balloons hold questions for the bride. The purple balloons have questions for the bridesmaids and maid of honour to answer.’

      Eloise groaned, hoping the sound was covered by the excited chatter of the other hens and the music playing in the bar. Just what she needed—more attention.

      ‘So, ladies, line up and prepare to pop balloons! Bride, bridesmaids and maid of honour, come on down!’ Melissa, Iona and Caitlin followed Laurel’s instructions and took their seats on the barstools lined up on the platform by the bar. Eloise followed more slowly.

      ‘Want to give me a heads up?’ she whispered to Laurel as she passed.

      ‘Sorry, no can do. I didn’t set the questions. Melissa did.’ Laurel patted her on the arm. ‘On the plus side, if you refuse to answer any of them, you get to drink a shot.’

      More alcohol. That СКАЧАТЬ