I set Aveen’s notebook to the side and laced my fingers together atop the table. When I asked his name, he grumbled, “Arnold.”
The florist. Perfect. “Nice to meet you, Arnold. Prince Tadhg tells me your flowers are the most beautiful in all of Tearmann.”
His lips tugged into a reluctant smile. “In Airren as well, milady.”
That title felt like yet another barrier between us. “Just Keelynn, please.”
He shuffled a bit closer to the table, his gaze dropping to the notebook containing Aveen’s list. As I read the flowers aloud, he jotted everything down in a notebook of his own, bobbing his head with each choice, as if he approved.
Once I finished, I asked him to make a smaller one for my bridesmaid. Aveen would be there, whether Rían approved or not.
Arnold stuffed his notebook into his breast pocket and gave it a pat. “Fine choices, milady—I mean Keelynn. These’ll make the most stunning bouquet. Just you wait and see.”
“I have no doubt. If you need anything more from me, please do not hesitate to come by. Thank you again, Arnold.”
With another bob of his head, the grogoch turned on his heel and left.
The next two meetings didn’t go nearly as well. Loads of talking on my end, and very little interaction from the musicians and caterers. And they both refused to call me Keelynn despite me asking them three times to drop the formal title. Eava had offered to cook for the event, but I wanted her to enjoy herself as well, not spend the day slaving away over a hot stove.
The last person happened to be a seamstress Tadhg had recommended. He had offered to speak to Dame Meranda, our favorite dressmaker from Graystones, but I wanted to give work to the locals wherever possible as a sign of goodwill.
The white-haired woman named Melody came into the hall carrying a small carpet bag. Her own olive-green gown cinched tight around her tiny waist and flowed like a waterfall down her curvy hips.
“Your dress is lovely.”
Melody’s skirts rustled when she fluffed them. “Thank you, milady. I made it myself.”
Brilliant. I had a feeling I was going to love whatever she created for me.
From her bag, she withdrew a measuring tape and a bolt of black fabric.
“There’s no need to measure me. I’ve written all my information down for you.” I withdrew a folded piece of paper from my skirt pocket. I’d been the same size for years.
“If it’s all the same to you, milady, I’d just as soon take them myself.”
Waste of time, if you asked me, but since she seemed insistent, I gave in without an argument. Best to save my fight for my brother-in-law.
Melody gestured to the dais. “Stand up there on the first step and tell me what sort of style you’re lookin’ for in a dress.”
I did as I was told, keeping my legs slightly spread so Melody could measure my inseam and then holding out my arms so she could measure them as well. “Something simple. Off the shoulder, perhaps?” My breasts weren’t very large, so I thought that style would give the illusion of a little more in the front.
“Would you be wanting a train?”
“I don’t think so.” Extra material would only end up getting trampled on.
I watched Melody jot figures down in her notepad. The number she wrote for my waist was two inches larger than my normal measurement. And my chest was an inch too small. “Are you sure those are correct?” I asked, gesturing toward the open page.
She snapped the notebook closed and stuffed it back into her bag. “Absolutely.”
I wasn’t so sure, but there would be multiple fittings before the actual wedding, and if something was wrong, it would be up to her to fix it.
Tadhg appeared in the doorway, a smile spread across his sinful lips as he leaned against the doorframe. Lips I had spent the better part of this morning getting reacquainted with.
Melody whirled toward where he stood. “Goodness, is that you Tadhg?” she said, all breathless and throaty.
What was with that tone?
He barely spared her a glance, his emerald eyes locking with mine. “I hope you’re taking care of my fiancée, Melody.”