‘Why?’
‘Because her time is up.’
Remy frowned. ‘But she’s helped you. You’ve done better with her than anyone else. You spent weeks in rehab and got nowhere. Four weeks with her and you’re almost back on your feet. Why would you quit now?’
Raoul set his mouth. ‘I’m not back on my feet.’ Half a minute standing without support is not back on my feet. ‘I might never get back on my feet.’
‘You don’t know that. You can’t predict how you’ll be. You know what the doctors said—it’s a waiting game. It could take weeks or months or even years.’
‘That’s the whole point. I’m not prepared to wait.’
‘So you’re just going to send her away?’
‘She’s got nothing to offer me.’
‘That’s not what Dominique and Etienne say.’
Raoul narrowed his eyes to angry slits. ‘Please don’t tell me you’ve been gossiping about me with the domestic staff.’ Was anyone not gossiping about him?
‘They’re not just domestic staff, they’re like family to you. They care about you.’
‘They’re not paid to care about me.’
‘Neither is Lily Archer, but she cares. She cares a lot.’
‘What would you know?’ Raoul said. ‘You haven’t even met her, or at least only in passing.’
‘No, but I’ve spoken to everyone that has. She’s like Poppy—warm, sweet and generous. I can’t believe you’re such a fool to walk away from someone like that.’
‘Aren’t you forgetting something?’ Raoul gave his younger brother a cutting look. ‘I can’t walk away from her. I can’t walk away from anyone.’
Remy put his whiskey glass down with a clunk. ‘You’re going to break her heart. Think very carefully before you do that.’
Raoul barked out a cynical laugh. ‘I cannot believe you are preaching to me about breaking someone’s heart. Have you taken a look at yourself lately? You haven’t been with a woman more than a week in I don’t know how long. That’s fifty-two hearts you’re breaking per year, right?’
Remy glowered at him. ‘We’re not talking about me here, we’re talking about you.’
‘I know what I’m doing.’
‘We all think we know what we’re doing...’
Raoul studied his younger brother’s expression for a moment. ‘Is everything all right with you?’
‘Sure.’ Remy gave him an overly bright smile. ‘Everything’s just fine.’
‘Rafe told me you’re dealing with Henri Marchand.’
‘I’ve got it covered.’
‘Sure?’
‘Sure.’
Raoul wasn’t so sure. There was something about Remy’s expression that alerted him to an undercurrent of worry. Henri Marchand was a sly man, ruthless and conniving. He would sell his grandmother to make a buck. The only near relative he had was his daughter, Angelique, and God only knew what the price was on her head. He only hoped Remy wasn’t the one who had to pay it. ‘If ever you need an ear...’
Remy gave him a high five. ‘I’ve got to get on the move. People to see. Deals to wheel.’
‘What? You’re not staying for the toss of the bouquet?
Remy gave a visible shudder. ‘Not my turn.’ He landed a playful punch on Raoul’s shoulder. ‘You’re next in line. Ciao.’
* * *
When Lily came back to the reception after freshening up in the ladies’ room the crowd was jostling for the bridal bouquet toss. She stayed well back in the room, pretending a disinterest that was at odds with everything inside her. She would have loved to be up there pushing and shoving in the mad grab for the bouquet. It was such a high-spirited, girly thing to do.
But she watched from the sidelines, feeling disjointed, displaced, lonely.
‘I’ve got it!’
‘No, it’s mine!’
‘Get out of my way, you fat cow, it’s mine.’
Lily moved aside as a wall of women surged towards her. She put up her hands to shield her face and suddenly found herself holding a bunch of flowers. Not just any bunch of flowers, either.
‘Oh...’
Every single female eye in the room was on her. There was a massive round of applause and loud cheering.
‘This is not meant for me.’ Lily thrust the bouquet at the nearest pair of grasping hands. ‘Excuse me...’