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Authors: Rebecca Chance

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Ludo snorted a little laugh out of his nostrils.

‘Oh, I’m sure you
would
, dear,’ he commented, looking Milly up and down. ‘Actors – I know
just
what you’re like! Well, the
supreme
editor you need to impress at
Style
is of course Her Majesty Queen Victoria, Editrix Supreme, and she’s certainly not averse to the lady-loving side of things . . .’


Really?
’ Milly was agog with this juicy piece of gossip.

Ludo nodded gleefully.

‘But you’ve got no chance of a little casting-couch advantage there, my dear,’ he said chattily. ‘Victoria’s boringly faithful to her girlfriend, by all accounts.
Lesbians! They really are a different breed.’

‘Oh, Milly wouldn’t
dream
of anything like that. She’s
madly
in love with Tarquin and he just adores her,’ Eva stammered, her words tumbling over each
other and crashing to a halt as Ludo and Milly turned identical expressions of surprise, laced lightly with disdain, upon her.

‘Ludo was
joking
,’ Milly said, reaching over to pat Eva’s hand. ‘
Honestly.
Eva’s really nice,’ she explained to Ludo.

‘How absolutely charming for her,’ Ludo said smoothly. ‘Well,
revenons à nos moutons
, shall we? Let us return to our sheep, as the French say. I really do need
some notes for this wedding beyond elf ears and trailing white nighties, which, frankly, I can tell you, will
not
be a plus point for
Style Bride . . .’

Milly swallowed down her resentment at the mocking tone and elf ears comment: Ludo’s reference to the Wayne Burns marriage, combined with his nonchalant familiarity with Victoria Glossop,
the famed and feared editor-in-chief of the
Style
magazine empire, had put her on alert. She didn’t want to lose the chance to have Ludo Montgomerie, wedding planner to the stars,
oversee her own ceremony.

‘Well, Eva and I were watching
Pride and Prejudice
the other night,’ she started, ‘and we both thought it would be perfect for me and Tark to sort of base ourselves on
that—’

‘The Greer Garson/Laurence Olivier one?’ Ludo sighed. ‘Gorge! But you know those costumes weren’t at
all
historically correct! Or Jennifer Ehle and Colin Firth?
I love the white linen shirt idea for Tarquin, with his slender build –
so
much better for clothes, Colin can skew a
leetle
stocky . . .’

Milly frowned.

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ she said frankly, but with no embarrassment: one of the many advantages of an expensive private education was that its
beneficiaries were so cushioned by privilege that they were totally comfortable admitting ignorance on any subject. ‘I meant the film with Keira Knightley, of course! That bit at the end when
Matthew McFadyen comes towards her in the meadow with his greatcoat billowing out at sunrise . . .’

‘Oh
lawks
!’ Ludo rolled his eyes. ‘
So
ahistoric! He looked like the 1970s crashing straight into a boyband . . . but hmm, I do rather see what you mean there.
What was ludicrous for Mr Darcy would actually be rather wonderful on Tarquin – and you
certainly
have the figure for Regency, dear,’ he added, casting an approving glance at
Milly’s almost completely flat chest. Her lack of breasts was crucial for a leading lady; any overly visible curves were considered vulgar, much more suitable for the cheery maid parts than
the refined aristocrats whom British ingénues were so often called upon to play.

‘Daisies and wild flowers!’ Milly rhapsodized eagerly, having finally had some approval from Ludo of what she was aiming for. ‘English country-style, with cider and lemonade in
jam jars! Maybe a butterfly greenhouse? Or release butterflies over us when we say our vows? Much more original than doves, right? But I want it to be super-chic! Like an Italian film! Think about
Keira Knightley’s wedding – she had a Chanel strapless frock with matching shoes, but it was really simple, like a prom dress, and just a little flower garland thingy in her hair, and
the shoes were flats, and then they drove away in a Renault Clio, so it was really shabby-chic simple, but
really
chic – Karl Lagerfeld was there and he said it was perfect! We
can’t do France, because Keira did that already, but maybe Italy? We could get lots of Cinquecento cars instead of Renaults . . .’

‘And
breathe
!’ Ludo commanded, waving his hands in front of her face to stop the breathless flow. ‘Right!
So—’
he reached for his glass and drank
some more wine, ‘it has to be English and Italian, super-chic but country-style, shabby-chic but smart enough for Karl Lagerfeld to attend . . .’

‘Yes, exactly. Perfect!’ Milly rose to her feet, as light as a feather, and picked up her cigarettes and lighter from the coffee table. ‘I’m
so
glad you get what
I’m after. I’m going to have a fag on the smoking terrace – talk about the details with Eva, she’s really going to be your liaison for all the day-to-day stuff. She’s
the designer and she knows exactly what my brand needs. You can run everything through her.’

Refilling her glass and picking that up too, she wafted away in a cloud of pale pink, the layers of her Alice + Olivia silk georgette dress rippling around her narrow frame, the metallic fabric
of her flat Charlotte Olympia sandals glistening subtly as she went; heads turned, acquaintances waved to her, and Milly smiled at them all as she floated away and up the stairs to the open smoking
terrace.

‘I wish
I
could have a fag on the terrace, and I don’t mean a cigarette,’ Ludo muttered sardonically. ‘She didn’t
quite
get that I was joking, did
she?’

‘Um, no,’ Eva admitted. ‘She doesn’t really get it when people tease her.’

‘You know, I’ve dealt with a
lot
of spoilt young madams who think they can order me around as if I were a flunkey,’ Ludo said, perfectly poised. ‘Really,
vast
amounts of them over the years. The moment they realize that I’m
utterly
prepared to turn my back and walk away is when they start apologizing profusely and knuckling
under. I can pick and choose who I work with, believe me. You’ve seen my recent client list.’

‘Oh, please – Milly and Tarquin really want you to organize their wedding!’ Eva said swiftly. ‘
Please.
I think I can clarify what she’s trying to say . .
.’

‘I do
not
do lemonade in jam jars!’ Ludo sniffed.

‘No, of course not – but maybe a Lemon Drop cocktail made with organic Meyer lemons served in recycled Venetian glasses?’ Eva suggested. ‘I honestly think the butterflies
could be an amazing idea, too. I’m doing a butterfly range for the next Milly and Me collection, we could look at the colours for those . . . I thought Milly could have her hair all dotted
with little butterfly pins, and I love your Regency idea. You could dress Tarquin in a frock coat, he’d look wonderful . . .’

‘Hmm,’ Ludo said, and went very quiet for a whole minute and a half. Eva started to say something after thirty seconds had elapsed, but he held up an imperious hand and she fell
instantly silent, something he noticed with a nod of approval.


Linen
,’ he pronounced eventually.

‘I’m sorry?’ Eva asked nervously.

‘Linen! And cotton!’ Ludo announced, staring up at the canvas sun-curtains overhead. ‘White draperies billowing everywhere! Yards and yards of lovely crisp white cotton, like
sheets in the wind – scented, we’ll get some old ladies to starch and iron them all and spray them with lavender and thyme . . . fresh, fresh, fresh! Young, clean, new, a
modern
look. Wild flowers planted in the centre of the tables. Poppies and cornflowers. I’ll even consider the butterflies, but no promises on that. Of
course
, this would
all be
ghastly
for a bride and groom a
day
over twenty-five or with visible signs of wear and tear, if you know what I mean? Your friend Milly’s
very
lucky that she
looks like a Christmas-tree angel,’ he added firmly. ‘And that she’s marrying a grown-up version of Little Lord Fauntleroy.’

‘Oh
phew
!’ Eva almost sagged in relief. ‘I’m so glad you’ll do it. Milly’d set her heart on you planning the wedding, and I love the white linen
idea.’

‘Covering the tables, blowing in the breeze . . . starch and fresh flowers, Sicilian lemons, geranium and citronella oils burning in torches . . .’ Ludo rhapsodized. ‘I’m
going to attempt something really difficult, taste-wise. You know what’s hardest? Simplicity! It’s so easy to slip into parody. And yet I have a
very
good feeling about this.
Beach chic in the Italian countryside. A Tuscan landscape – that stunning Chianti countryside, green hillsides, lines of cypresses, vineyards stretching away down the hill, everything
alfresco
, maybe a prosecco fountain with people dipping little cut-glass antique punch glasses in, those very old-fashioned ones that nobody uses any more – when you said Venetian
glass, I had an
epiphany
, I could see it all.’

His voice trailed off. Eva waited to see if he was going to say anything else, but he just sipped some rosé and smiled at her encouragingly, so she ventured to ask, ‘don’t
they need to get married in the Town Hall if they want to do it in Italy?’

‘No, dear,’ Ludo said dismissively. ‘Legally it has to be a civil wedding conducted by the mayor, but it can be anywhere you like nowadays. I have the perfect location in mind,
but I’m not going to say another
word
yet until I have it nailed down. Oh, I see it
all.
Even the little Italian ladies behind the scenes, ironing all my lovely
linen.’

‘Could we organize a religious blessing as well?’ Eva asked. ‘Tarquin’s family’s Catholic, so I know they’d appreciate that. Could you maybe find an Italian
priest?’

Ludo smiled complacently.

‘Oh, no problem there,’ he said. ‘I know
just
the man for the job. Father Liam Wiles – he’s
charming
, believe me. Tarquin’s family will be
more than happy with him.’

‘So, is everything sorted?’ Milly was back, her step so light they hadn’t seen her approach, beaming seraphically above them and trailing a smell of Marlboro Ultra Lights.
‘I can see you two’ve put your heads together and got all your ducks in a row, right? I’m
so
excited!’

‘I have to talk to Jodie Raeburn about the timing,’ Ludo said, not deigning to respond directly to his client’s wittering. ‘I
definitely
need to know her
deadline for the
Style Bride
cover and launch. I imagine we’d need to have the ceremony by the end of May at the latest.’

Victoria Glossop was
Style
’s New York-based editor-in-chief, but Jodie Raeburn, the editor of
Style UK
, was directly responsible for editing
Style Bride
, and her
approval would be crucial when pitching for the coveted cover of the magazine and the title of
Style
Bride of the Year.

‘Oh,
whenever
!’ Milly said enthusiastically. ‘Whenever! I don’t care if I’m standing in the cold shivering my tits off as long as the photos are fabulous
and I get to be on the cover of
Style Bride
!’

‘Well,
that’s
the attitude I like to see,’ Ludo commented with the most approval that he had given to anything Milly had said so far.

‘And—’ Emboldened by this, Milly perched girlishly on the arm of the sofa beside him, spread her pink skirts around her and bestowed on him a pearly, perfect smile, tossing
back her golden locks. ‘I was rather hoping that you’d be nice to us about the whole question of your fee? I mean, we
are
a very promotable and photogenic couple, and then
there’s the whole
Style Bride
possibility. After all, if that comes off we’ll be absolutely all over the papers, which is
great
publicity for you – really help
to build your business.’

Ludo’s smile had deepened as she went on, becoming so openly satirical that Milly faltered to a halt, no longer able to look at him as she made her pitch for a discount. When she had wound
down, he waited a long three beats before he said, very gently: ‘My dear, you’re aware of my two biggest-profile weddings last year? Wayne and Andy Burns, Melody Dale and James
Delancey? Or, as I like to call them, Wonder Woman and Dr Who?’

These were the roles for which the two actors were respectively known best.

‘Of course, you know Melody and James, don’t you?’ Ludo continued. ‘You were in
Much Ado About Nothing
with her – lovely girl. Such a natural beauty now
she’s had all that awful plastic surgery reversed. And you were in
Dr Who
with James. But despite all that, you weren’t at the wedding, though, were you, dear? No, I
didn’t think so. It was
very
exclusive. Would you like to speculate on the reduction I made in my fees for either of those two couples? Hmn?’

He tilted his head, still smiling at Milly as he landed this series of killer blows.

‘Not. A. Penny,’ he continued. ‘I wouldn’t have reduced my fees if I’d done Prince Hugo’s wedding to Chloe Rose, let me tell you. I don’t do that for
anyone
, and certainly not you! Believe me—’ He stood up gracefully, smoothed down the folds of his royal blue shantung silk harem trousers, and gathered up his Hugo Boss bag
and iPhone. ‘If I wouldn’t give a discount to Wonder Woman and Dr Who, I
certainly
won’t do it for you!’

He twiddled his fingers in the air in a farewell gesture, sketched a wink at Eva that came and went so fast she wasn’t even sure whether she’d actually seen it, and turned to go.

‘Toodles!’ he said over his shoulder as he made his exit. ‘
So
looking forward to working with you!’

Chapter Seven

Stanclere Hall

I need to find something I can actually do here,
Brianna Jade thought as she carefully picked up her breakfast tray and moved it to the side of the coverlet.
Carefully, because it was as ancient and rickety as everything else in this house; one of the little carved feet was bent at an odd angle. It was really cool, like a little table that went over
your legs, so you could sit up, prop yourself against the tapestried headboard of the bed with the Harrods hypo-allergenic pillows your mom had had shipped down here on emergency after one appalled
night spent on the nasty old feather ones, eat your egg whites scrambled with spinach and lean turkey slices, and sip your non-fat-milk cappuccino without ever leaving your bed.

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