Wedding Promises

Downstairs in the lobby, Melissa was still berating Laurel about something or other. Eloise got close enough to hear the words ‘wedding favours’ and ‘an embarrassment’ and backed off to loiter at the reception desk until they were finished. Anything wedding-related that wasn’t actually part of the venue was, unfortunately for Laurel, Laurel’s problem. And, as much as she liked Melissa’s half-sister, Eloise had enough problems of her own at Morwen Hall without borrowing other people’s.

After a few minutes where Eloise pretended to check the reservations system on the computer, Laurel approached, her smile fixed and tight. ‘I’m afraid I’m going to have to abandon you for a few hours. Melissa needs me to pop up to London.’

‘Wedding favours?’

Laurel nodded. ‘Apparently the ones we decided on three months ago are now passé and embarrassing.’

‘Of course.’ Eloise sighed. There was no way to tell whether Melissa was seriously unhappy with the favours or just trying to make Laurel’s life difficult. Either way, Laurel would need to fix it. ‘So, what’s the plan?’

‘Apparently she’s made some calls and there are now one hundred and fifty alternative favours—something to do with artisan chocolates and mini personalised perfumes, I think—waiting at some boutique in central London. So I’m off to pick them up.’

‘A wedding planner’s work is never done.’

‘Especially not with this wedding.’ Laurel gave her a tired smile. ‘Anyway, I’m going to hitch a lift with the next car arriving from the airport and get it to drop me off on its way to pick up the next set of guests—there should just about be time, as long as the traffic’s not too awful.’

‘How will you get back?’ Eloise asked because she probably shouldn’t grab hold of Laurel’s leg and beg her not to leave her alone with these awful people.

‘The last car heading back from the airport will have to swing past and pick me up.’ Laurel sighed. ‘And I’ll just have to pray that the guest inside isn’t some absurdly high maintenance celeb that objects to travelling with the help—or taking a significant detour.’

Eloise laughed. ‘I cannot imagine where you might have got the idea that Melissa would be friends with that sort of person.’

‘I know, right?’ Laurel smiled again, a real grin this time. Then her expression turned more serious. ‘Will you be okay here without me? Really? I know there’s still masses to do...’

Eloise waved away her concerns with a flap of her hand. Laurel panicking all over London wouldn’t help either of them, or get this wedding going. ‘I’ll be fine. Everything’s set up for the welcome drinks, and Chef’s already in the kitchen working on the canapés and such, so I’m free to supervise the check-ins. Once I’ve shown Melissa and Riley to the Bridal Suite, anyway. I hope they like it.’

‘How could they not? It’s gorgeous.’ Laurel tugged the strap of her messenger bag higher up on her shoulder. ‘Right, I’d better go. Good luck!’

‘You too. May all your favours be cutting edge and perfect.’

‘That’s the hope!’ Laurel waved as she shoved the heavy front door open with her shoulder, and then Eloise was alone with Melissa and Riley. Exactly the scenario she’d been hoping to avoid.

With a bright smile, Eloise turned to walk towards the bride and groom, who were indulging in a nauseating public display of affection in her lobby. Because this week wasn’t awkward enough already.

‘If you two are ready, I’d love to show you both to our Bridal Suite. I think you’ll agree it’s something a bit special.’

Melissa pulled away from Riley, who kept his hand low on her hip. ‘I can’t wait to see it! You’ve converted the old gatehouse, Laurel said?’

She sounded enthusiastic enough, which gave Eloise hope. Maybe Melissa had grown up at last and all the tensions of the last six months were just the usual stresses of being a bride, plus the added stress of doing it all in the limelight. It seemed unlikely but Eloise lived in hope.

‘That’s right,’ she said, leading them out of the hotel’s front door and down the steps to the driveway. ‘It’s just a short walk from the Hall proper, but we find that our happy couples enjoy the privacy.’

Riley’s mouth twitched into a grin at that. ‘I bet they do. I know I plan to!’

Melissa dodged his hands as he grabbed for her waist again. For a moment she looked so girlish and young that they could all have been sixteen again. Except, Eloise reminded herself, if they were, she definitely wouldn’t have been invited to hang out with them.

‘Not until after the wedding, you don’t!’ Melissa squealed as she danced across the driveway in her ridiculously expensive leather boots and impractical bright white coat. Her blonde hair shone in the winter sunlight, her pale skin flawless as she smiled.

It was, Eloise decided, a good job she wasn’t the jealous type.

‘Can you believe it?’ Riley asked, falling into step with Eloise. ‘She’s making me wait until after the wedding. I have the most beautiful fiancée in the world and I’m not even allowed to touch her.’

‘Oh, like you haven’t touched me plenty before,’ Melissa said with a flirtatious laugh. ‘I seem to remember you could barely do anything else for the first month or two...’

Eloise picked up the pace just a bit, relieved when the Gatehouse came into view around the edge of the trees.

‘Not for the last forty-eight hours!’ Riley protested. ‘It’s cruel and unusual torture; that’s what it is. Eloise agrees, don’t you?’

Eloise pretty much thought it was none of her business, and she’d rather keep it that way, but the client was the client.

‘I think that seeing the Bridal Suite might tempt her resolve,’ she said diplomatically.

‘That’s why he won’t be staying in it until the wedding night.’ Melissa’s tone was triumphant, and the small smile on her face as she looked at Eloise made it clear that she knew exactly what she was doing. ‘Oh, didn’t Laurel tell you that Riley would need a separate room until Saturday?’

Eloise bit the inside of her cheek in a desperate attempt to keep a hold on her temper. Melissa knew perfectly well that she hadn’t—probably because she’d never mentioned it to Laurel in the first place. In fact, Eloise suspected that she’d just come up with it at that moment and was now using the idea to play Eloise and Laurel off each other. That would be just the sort of thing she would do.

Well. Eloise might have fallen for it when she was sixteen. But she wasn’t sixteen any longer.

‘Actually, she did suggest it might be a possibility so I’ve got a very special room put aside for Riley in the hotel, just in case he needed it.’

Riley looked impressed. Melissa looked murderous. Eloise smiled serenely and moved past them both to unlock the door to the Gatehouse.

‘Now, how about we take a look at where you’ll be spending your first night as man and wife?’ she said. Then she could get onto building an extra hotel suite for Riley. There had to be a solution somewhere. She just hadn’t thought of it yet.

Even Melissa had to be impressed by the Gatehouse Suite, and Riley’s eyes were huge as Eloise gave them the tour. Morwen Hall was a luxury hotel from top to bottom but the Gatehouse kicked that luxury up a notch further. The stone building had been completely renovated—walls had been knocked through to turn what had been a small family home into a spacious suite for two. Downstairs was laid out as an open-plan living area, with a small kitchen counter running along one side. It wasn’t a functioning kitchen—that wasn’t what guests needed here. Instead, it had a small fridge filled with champagne and another stuffed with high-end chocolates, caviar and other delicious treats. A top of the range coffee machine with quality china fulfilled guests’ caffeine needs, and an extensive menu was available twenty-four hours from direct dial to the front desk.

Downstairs was, Eloise thought proudly, impressive. But upstairs blew it away.

The four-poster bed that dominated the room was larger even than the one that had rendered Noah speechless. The bed linens were snowy white Egyptian cotton, with luxurious touches in jewel-coloured satin and silk accessories. The large bay window—complete with cushioned window seat—looked out over the river, and the en suite bathroom featured both an ultra-modern shower for two and an old-fashioned roll top bath.

‘It’s gorgeous,’ Melissa admitted eventually. Then, apparently unable to resist criticising something, she added, ‘And I’m sure I’ll be fine, all the way out here.’

It’s two minutes from the hotel. Less if you don’t stop to grope your fiancé.

‘Well, I’ll make sure you have my room number,’ Riley said, wrapping an arm around Melissa’s waist and giving the four-poster a good, long look. ‘Just in case you need me to come down here and...save you.’

Rolling her eyes, Melissa pushed him away. ‘You and Eloise should go and find your room. I’m going to take advantage of that lovely bath.’

‘Right,’ Eloise said, thinking fast. ‘Your room. Just follow me!’

As they left Melissa to her bath, Eloise spotted the first of the guests’ cars pulling up the driveway. She was out of time, and all chaos was likely to break loose soon. And Riley still needed a room, even if she doubted he’d actually end up sleeping in it at all.

Mentally, she ran through the rooming list for the wedding in her head. After Noah’s, the next best room in the hotel had been earmarked for Riley’s brother, Dan. He wasn’t bringing a guest, so at least that would only be one person to rehouse. Plus his flight was the last one in, so that gave her more time to try and fix things. And if the worst came to the worst and she couldn’t magic another room from a no-show, or persuade Melissa to let Riley back into the Gatehouse, at least Dan and Riley might not be too horrified about having to share...

It was the best she could do for now. Decision made, Eloise covered the distance between the Gatehouse and Morwen Hall with large strides, leaving Riley trying to keep up. She’d show him to his room then get back down to supervise check-in. Laurel would be back to help—and provide much-needed moral support—before the welcome drinks.

And then all Eloise had to do was resist the considerable charms of Noah Cross for the evening.

How hard could that be?

Then she remembered Noah’s smile, and realised that there was a very real possibility that she might be doomed.

CHAPTER THREE

IN THE END, the nap had to wait.

Noah placed the script reverently on the bed in front of him and reached for his phone without ever looking away from the cover sheet. He didn’t want to break the magic spell the writing had cast over him before he spoke to his agent. He wanted to live in this feeling—in the brilliance and excitement of a perfect story. The way he felt he knew every one of the characters inside out as if he was the characters.

This film—this was the one he’d been waiting for.

He couldn’t remember being this excited about a part since... Well, since he’d first moved to LA with Sally.

Swallowing hard at the memory, he pushed it aside and punched the right combination on the screen to call Tessa, his agent.

‘I want this part,’ he said, the moment she picked up.

‘Noah?’ She sounded sleepy. Noah did a quick mental calculation of the time difference and winced. Then he decided that, since she was awake now anyway, he might as well continue.

‘Eight Days After,’ he said. ‘I want the part. The lead. None of this supporting actor stuff. I want the main attraction.’

‘Really?’ Tessa was awake now, if the pep in her voice was anything to go by. ‘You think you’re right for Marcus?’

‘Definitely,’ Noah replied, ignoring the surprise in her voice. ‘Trust me. They want me in that role. I will knock it out of the park.’ There was a pause on the other line, and Noah’s confidence took a slight dip. But not for long. He hadn’t got where he was by letting criticism knock him back. ‘What? What did they say about me? You might as well just tell me—you know I’ll hear it eventually anyway.’ That was how Hollywood gossip worked. Confidences were never kept, and secrets always got out. You just had to front it out and live with whatever people had to say about you, Noah had found. He just didn’t let the gibes and the comments get past his defences any more. They didn’t hurt if he didn’t let himself feel them.

‘Stefan, the director...he’s worried you might not have the, well, depth for the part.’

‘For Marcus?’

‘For the best friend part.’

Noah blinked. ‘The best friend has no depth. He’s basically there to lighten the mood so that no one slits their wrists in the movie theatres.’ If Stefan didn’t believe he could even pull off that part, Noah had a harder path to climb than even he’d anticipated.

‘Still. This is a very different movie to the sort you’ve been in before.’

‘Lately,’ Noah countered.

‘Since you became an actor anyone has heard of,’ Tessa shot back, and Noah winced. Had it really been that long since he’d made a film that mattered? He knew that it had. He’d not taken on a part with substance since he’d got his big break in a summer blockbuster.

So why now? Why this one?

Noah shook his head. It didn’t matter why. It only mattered that he get it. One way or another.

‘What will it take to convince him?’ he asked.

‘That you can play the best friend?’

‘No.’

Tessa sighed. ‘Look, Noah, I think they’ve already got someone in the frame for Marcus—and no, before you ask, I don’t know who. They’re being cagey, though, so that probably means someone big.’

‘Someone they’re not sure of, or they’d be telling everyone.’

‘Maybe. Why does this matter so much to you?’ Tessa asked. ‘I mean, you’ve been perfectly happy for years playing the big budget hero, the action guy or whatever.’

‘You mean as a more looks than talent kind of actor,’ Noah translated. He’d heard the talk as well as she had.

‘You said it, not me. But yeah. So what’s changed?’

Noah sank back against the pillows on the four-poster bed, trying to find the right words. ‘It’s...it’s this script. I mean, I knew I was ready for a change. It’s been seven years since...’ Since he’d taken a part that made him look too deep, search too far to find the character. Since he’d done anything more than drift through his roles without having to think too much about the emotions behind them. Since he’d risked feeling at all.

‘Since what happened to Sally.’ Tessa was one of the few people who knew that story. One of the many reasons Noah had stuck with her as his agent even after he had agencies banging on his door wanting to sign him.

‘Yeah. But it’s more than that. There’s something about this script, Tess.’ Something that made his heart race, made him want to reach for something more, something better, something deeper, for the first time in a long time. ‘The way it talks about the human condition, about loss, and connection and love...’

‘I know,’ Tessa said quietly. ‘That was why I was surprised you want to do it. They’re usually exactly the things you try to avoid.’

That was the problem with having the same agent for almost a decade. They got to know you—and your weaknesses—too well.

‘Yeah, well, maybe it’s time for a change.’ In career terms, if not personally.

‘Okay, be honest. Is this about that interview last month?’

‘You know I don’t let those things get to me.’ Even if they had said that his films were getting more brainless by the season.

‘That one would get to anyone. There’s no shame in wanting to make better movies, Noah.’

‘Exactly!’ Better movies. That was the goal. And totally achievable without opening himself up to all the things he’d built walls against years before. ‘So you’ll get me the part?’

‘I’ll get you a video call with the director,’ Tessa corrected. ‘That’s the most I can do. Then it’s up to you. But you’re really going to have to blow them away.’ The warning was clear in her voice. They didn’t want him for the part. If he wanted it...he’d have to show them they couldn’t do it right without him.

‘I will.’

‘I mean it. This part needs real feeling and—’

‘You don’t think I can do it,’ Noah realised. ‘And here I thought agents were supposed to be an actor’s biggest cheerleader.’

‘I can dig out the skirt and pom-poms if you like.’ Tessa sighed again. ‘Look, I know you used to be able to do it. That’s why I signed you.’

‘And I thought it was for my pretty face.’

‘That too,’ she admitted. ‘But mostly it was your talent. The way you connected with an audience. But these days... Noah, you don’t even connect with the women you sleep with. Be honest. Do you really think you can do this? Look deeper inside yourself and find all that good stuff I haven’t seen in years?’

Could he? Noah wasn’t sure. ‘Honestly, I’m not even sure those parts are still there.’

‘Well, if you want this role, you better hope they are.’

‘You’ll get me the video call?’

‘I’ll get you the call,’ Tessa promised. ‘The rest is up to you. But Noah...’

‘What?’

‘Your acting ability wasn’t Stefan’s only concern,’ Tessa said.

‘It should be the only thing that matters,’ Noah shot back. ‘So what? What else?’

‘He doesn’t...how did he put it?’ Tessa took a breath and started again. ‘Stefan wants the film to be the focus, the thing everyone is talking about. Not your love life.’

‘I don’t have a love life,’ Noah pointed out.

He hadn’t been in love since Sally died. How could he be?

‘You have women. Lots of women, whether you love them or not.’

‘I don’t.’ Why did he have to say it? Tessa already knew. But somehow it felt important to be clear. As if he’d be betraying Sally if he let there be any doubt.

And he already had enough guilt to deal with, knowing he hadn’t lived up to being the best friend that she needed.

‘You go out with a lot of women and you’re seen doing it. People take photos. The photos show up in magazines, on the Internet, and people talk about them.’ Tessa’s words were clipped, her tone impatient. ‘You know this, Noah, and you know the effect it has. Don’t be obtuse.’

‘The effect it has? The way it drives up ticket sales, you mean?’ Because being seen, getting out there, that was as much a part of his job as showing up and playing a part. In some ways it felt like just another part he was playing: Noah Cross, Film Star.

‘Not this time,’ Tessa said. ‘This isn’t the sort of film you’re used to, Noah. Stefan wants people talking about the meaning, the theme, the soul of the film. Not who you’re sleeping with tonight.’

‘So you’re saying, take the part and give up sex?’ Because if that was the case... No, he still wanted the part.

‘I’m saying, try a little discretion for once. Okay?’

Discretion. That he could do. ‘Fine.’

For a moment, Noah had an image of bright red hair and sparkling eyes. Eloise. With her arresting beauty, she was anything but discreet. Anyone would remember seeing him with her.

Apparently, this wedding had just got a whole lot less fun.

‘I’ll be discreet,’ he promised. ‘I’ll be so discreet you won’t even know I’m here.’

Tessa snorted. ‘I’ll believe it when I see it.’

* * *

By late afternoon, Eloise felt as if her feet might fall off. She’d known the high heels were a mistake. Normally she wore low wedges or boots, but today she’d felt the need for something a little smarter. They weren’t even all that high—certainly lower and more sensible than Melissa’s expensive spike-heeled boots—but apparently running around Morwen Hall in them all day had beaten her feet into submission. She was ready to retire to the tiny bedrooms they kept for staff members working big events and soak her feet in the not quite full-size bath for an hour or two. Preferably while eating chocolate and sipping red wine.

But, instead, she still had a few more guests to welcome and show to their rooms—including the brother of the groom, who still didn’t know his room had been taken over by Riley himself. In all the chaos, Eloise still hadn’t found a solution to that either. Unless he wanted her room, and she’d just have to sleep behind the reception desk. She certainly couldn’t risk going home, not while Melissa was on the premises. As much as Eloise trusted her deputy manager, she wouldn’t leave anyone to deal with Melissa alone.

Wearily, Eloise stepped back behind the reception desk and, once she was sure no one could see, slipped her feet from her shoes and let the cool stone floor soothe her feet through her tights. That was better.

For a moment, she honestly believed she might get a small break in the craziness of the day to get herself together before the nightmare of the welcome drinks that evening.

Until Melissa’s scream cut through the air.

Eloise let her eyes flutter closed just for a moment as she steeled herself for whatever was about to happen. When she opened them again, Melissa was bustling across the lobby, a towel wrapped around her hair, wearing a coat and boots over black silky leggings and a matching top that Melissa obviously classed as loungewear, and probably cost more than Eloise earned in a month.

‘Is something the matter, Melissa?’ Eloise asked in her calmest, everything-will-be-fine voice. Inside, she just prayed that whatever the problem was, it wasn’t the Gatehouse. If Melissa had a problem with the Bridal Suite they really were in trouble.

‘It’s Cassidy!’ Melissa shrieked. ‘She just called from Aspen! She’s broken her leg on the slopes!’

‘Cassidy,’ Eloise repeated, her mind running through the guest list again in the hope that this might mean she had a spare room after all... ‘Wait, your maid of honour Cassidy?’

‘Yes!’ Eloise winced as the pitch of Melissa’s voice reached parts only dogs could hear.

Okay, that was a problem. But Eloise was sure one of Melissa’s other celebrity bridesmaids would be willing to step up to the job. And in the meantime... ‘Does that mean she and her family won’t be attending the wedding after all?’

And I can give their room to Riley’s brother?

Melissa gave her one of those were-you-born-this-stupid looks that Eloise had learned to hate during their childhood. ‘Of course they’re coming. Well, not Cassidy—apparently she can’t fly. But Dillon—her husband—will still be here. He says he’s bringing an “old friend” actually.’ The way she said it, Eloise could actually hear the air quotes around the words. She tried not to pull a face, but clearly she was never going to understand celebrity marriages. Who brought their mistress to a friend’s wedding when their wife was laid up in hospital?

A melodic chiming noise filled the lobby and Melissa shoved one perfectly manicured hand into her coat pocket and pulled out her phone.

‘Kerry? Thank God you called back. Did you hear about Cassidy? Well, what do I do? When are you getting here, anyway? Tomorrow! I need a new maid of honour before tomorrow!’

Kerry, Eloise recalled from many contract negotiations and emails, was Melissa’s agent. Why she was the first port of call in a maid of honour crisis, Eloise wasn’t sure. But she suspected it was another one of those things she didn’t understand about Hollywood.

‘Someone who knew me back when? You think we should play up the “local girl made good” angle?’ Melissa asked, not bothering to lower her voice at all. ‘Isn’t it enough that I came back to this dump in the first place?’ She rolled her eyes. ‘Fine, fine. If that’s what you think will sell. Yeah, I’ll ask her. Okay. Bye.’

Dump? Had Melissa really just called Morwen Hall a dump? It might not have been the peak of luxury ten years ago, but these days it was spectacular.

She was so annoyed she was still grinding her teeth in annoyance when Melissa turned back to the reception desk and said, ‘Right, change of plan. You’re my new maid of honour.’

Eloise blinked. ‘What?’

‘You.’ Melissa pointed at Eloise, jabbing a nail against her breastbone. ‘You’re going to put on the very expensive pretty dress I’ve already paid for and walk down the aisle in front of me. You’re going to smile for the cameras. You’re going to say wonderful things about me, and tell the reporter covering this wedding how close we were growing up, and how Hollywood hasn’t changed me at all. Okay?’