I gave him a flat look at his terminology. ‘Izzy is a designer and a specialised, highly talented bridal atelier.’

‘That’s what I said.’ Lorcan gave a shrug and I let out a sigh. His just-full lips were straight and gave nothing away but a hint of mischievousness twinkled in the blue eyes.

‘I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself,’ I said, trying not to show that I was too.

‘I don’t know what you mean,’ he said. I shook my head as I turned back to my delicious dinner, but I knew he’d seen straight through me. ‘So what time are you meeting her?’

‘Six p.m. at her studio in London.’

‘OK. Do you want me to pick you up?’

I snapped my head up. ‘What?’

‘Wednesday. Do you want me to pick you up?’

‘For what?’

‘To go to the specialist bridal atelier.’ There was the merest hint of twitch in his dark brow. He was such a smart arse.

‘You don’t need to come to that. It’s just for my own sake. Peyton already had the dress designed and Izzy is going to do a final fitting just before the wedding itself.’

‘I have strict instructions that I am to make myself available to you for any and all wedding-related activities.’

‘Which I appreciate, but I can handle this one. Thank you, though.’

‘No one has any doubt that you can handle anything. That’s not the point. If Peyton were here, she’d be going with you, I assume. In lieu of that possibility, I am, instead, at your service.’

‘Somehow I don’t think the dress will fit you.’

‘Shame. Although maybe that’s a good thing. I’m not sure white is my colour. I find it washes me out.’ He put a hand to his cheek and glanced at the window as if checking his reflection. Laughing, I bopped him with one of my notebooks. He turned back, that smile on full wattage, lighting his face.