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‘Don’t tell me you make these delectable little cakes yourself as well, Sophie?’ Lilac bit into a cupcake topped with the palest pink icing and sprinkled with edible glitter. ‘Absolutely heavenly. How are the macarons, Tish?’ Lilac giggled at the look on her wedding planner’s face when she realised she’d been caught in the act.

‘Delicious,’ Tish mumbled through a mouthful of buttercream, ‘and these peppermint millefeuille are to die for, if a little difficult to eat.’

‘Oh, no, Miss Verbois. These are supplied exclusively for our Cupcakes & Couture evenings by internationally trained pastry chef, Tom Wallington,’ announced Marcia. It was the first time she’d spoken since Lilac and her entourage had arrived, but the pride in her eyes on Tom’s behalf caused Sophie’s heart to flutter.

‘Wow, you do have some fabulously talented people in this village, don’t you? I have my five-tier wedding cake ordered already.’ Lilac raised her eyebrows at Tish, just to check, but she was teasing her. ‘Do you think it would be possible for your supplier to prepare, say, twenty-five of these cupcake pyramids? The children that we’ve invited to the wedding will adore them– it’s a much better option than stodgy fruit cake. Oh, I’m so excited!’

Lilac kicked off her shoes and sat back in her chair, casting her eyes around the women. ‘You know, I really do miss all this female camaraderie. Getting together with a group of friends to spend the evening gossiping, swapping secrets, asking for advice. You’re lucky, Sophie. Now I understand why you have a branch of Sophie-Louise in the Cotswolds. It’s your home; these are your friends who are willing to support you through life’s ups and downs. I was born in the Cotswolds, too, but sadly I don’t have a bunch of friends to come home to.’

Sophie smiled at Lilac, but tears prickled at her eyes.

Why had it taken such a devastating loss for her to realise how fortunate she was that she still had roots in her home town? That there were friends here who loved her no matter how long she’d been away? Nessa, Seb, Dominic, Archie – even Noah, if she let him. It was time she started to appreciate her good fortune and gave something of herself back. However, she shoved her guilt at her recent behaviour into the far crevices of her mind for later dissection. Tonight was an evening of celebration, and it was the best night she’d had for years.

She made a decision.

As she would now have to return to London to start working on Lilac’s wedding gown, she would accept Noah’s invitation to attend The Razorclaws’ rehearsal concert and take Nessa as a thank you for being her best friend.

Chapter Twenty Four

Sophie stood on the driveway in front of Somersby Manor Hotel and Spa, taking in its elegant beauty and the magnificent sweep of its pristine lawns edged with flowerbeds bursting with a riot of colour. As a long-time resident of Somersby, she was aware of its presence on the outskirts of the village, but as it only opened its doors to the public from May to September – and it was extremely expensive to eat, stay or indulge in a beauty treatment there – she had never been fortunate to do anything other than stare at it from her car window as she drove to and from Cranbury.

‘Wow, look at this place. It’s magnificent! I really can’t decide whether to faint at the architectural splendour of it all or drool with envy. Like everything else about this wedding, it’stheperfect venue for an actress and rock star to hold their fairy-tale summer wedding, don’t you think?’ Scarlet clutched her chest and performed a theatrical swoon.

‘Stop it.’ Sophie giggled. ‘You’re reminding me of Tish.’

‘In that case, our very own twenty-first-century Cinderella would have ordered the Georgian sandstone façade to be bedecked with a cornucopia of pink ribbon and lily of the valley wreaths, and the coats of the prancing ponies welcoming us out front would have to be dyed to match the bridesmaids’ dresses.’

‘Oooh, that soundssoromantic, Scarlet,’ sighed Flora before she executed a wide yawn in Sophie’s face.

Sophie rolled her eyes at her assistant. Flora had complained the whole journey from Paddington station to Cheltenham about missing out on her requisite nine hours of sleep, and how early mornings played havoc with her delicate body clock. Sadly, her psychic had not seen fit, or indeed been seen at all, to warn Flora of the unexpected last-minute dash up to the Cotswolds.

The previous day, she had received a call from Nikki to inform her that Lilac and Finn were visiting with the chef at Somersby Manor the following afternoon for a tasting session of the menu they’d chosen for their wedding breakfast, and if Sophie could get up there in the morning, Lilac could squeeze her in for an extra dress fitting. It was an opportunity Sophie couldn’t afford to refuse and it also meant she could call in and see how Delia was getting on at Gingerberry Yarns.

Since Lilac’s announcement that she’d won the wedding gown competition, Sophie had been bouncing between Somersby and London, trying to keep all the plates in her life spinning in unison. But mostly she’d been spending her time holed up in her workshop with Scarlet by her side as they made numerous tweaks to the dress in accordance with Lilac’s wishes. It was shaping up to be the most complicated design brief she had ever had, but she was definitely up to the challenge.

There was a real buzz about the salon which they’d struggled to keep under wraps for fear of giving the secret away and finding the paparazzi camped out on their doorstep. Unsurprisingly, Flora was the weakest link. She really was the worst secret keeper ever. Apart from that morning when she’d been deprived of her beauty sleep, she tended to spend her days smiling and humming to herself. One of their newest bridal clients had even asked if she had won the lottery or scored a coveted Taylor Swift ticket.

‘Come on, we don’t want to be late.’

Feeling a little nervous, Sophie led them across the lawn and up a flight of worn stone steps to the impressive oak front door and, after a brief pause to gather her breath, she stepped into the entrance hall that also served as the hotel’s foyer.

She took a moment to survey the polished parquet flooring, the ornate cornices and ceiling rose, and the handsome Chesterfield sofas that bracketed the enormous fireplace and couldn’t prevent her jaw from dropping at the splendour. She almost swooned when she saw the sweep of the mahogany staircase, until her dream of sliding down the banister was rudely interrupted by the appearance of a thirty-something man who was jogging down the stairs to greet her.

‘Hi, you must be Sophie-Louise Henshaw?’

‘Yes, yes, I am, and this is Scarlet Webb and Flora Bainbridge.’

‘Great. Okay, if you follow me, I’ll show you up to Lilac’s suite. Tish and Nikki are already there. There’s been a bit of a hitch, I’m afraid, but I’m going to let them tell you about it. Oh, I’m Craig Carver, by the way – Lilac and Finn’s wedding photographer and videographer. Come this way.’

Craig smiled at them, displaying perfectly even teeth, and his gentle chestnut eyes crinkled attractively at the corners. With his stocky build and broad shoulders Sophie suspected that in his spare time he played prop forward for the local rugby team. As they followed Craig back up the staircase, Sophie’s theory that he was probably more comfortable on a sports pitch than in a stately home, herding recalcitrant wedding guests into group photos was confirmed. His physique was impressive, and the fact that his muscular legs took the stairs two at a time only served to enhance the tautness of his buttocks.

‘Do you think we’d be allowed to slide down the banister after we’ve seen Lilac?’ asked Flora, running her hand along the smooth mahogany wood.

‘I hope so,’ giggled Sophie.

A few moments later, Craig stopped outside a pair of double doors. ‘Here we are. Erm… before you go in there, I feel I should warn you – Nikki Coates is not a happy PA bunny. If you see her with anything in her hand, you might want to duck. Maybe I’ll see you for a drink in the bar before you leave?’ Craig suggested, his eyes lingering on Flora. ‘Good luck!’

He cracked open the right-hand door and fled.

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