Mrs Beauregarde Novels & Stories

Maguire, and they realized what I have been doing while they left me behind. “Bea, you were supposed to take Mackenzie with you.” There was a hint of disapproval in Mrs. Maguire’s voice. Bea looked as if she wanted to say something but chose to be quiet instead. “It’s okay,” I said, smiling brightly. “I hate shopping.” Mr. Maguire gave me a shocked expression. Then he said, “I hope my daughter and my wife would say the same.”

merger as an affront, a takeover of their playground. A tall, spindly woman in a gown of aggressive sequins led the charge. "A lovely party, Garette," she purred, though her eyes were ice. "Though some of us wonder if the guest of honor’s... condition... wasn't a bit of a rush-job to secure the Le Brione assets?" The table went silent. It was a direct hit, a public insult to Dianthe’s honor. Garette’s hand tightened on his steak knife, his eyes flashing with a murderous intent that would have ended the gala then and there.

Hadrian looked genuinely surprised for once then slowly, he bowed respectfully. “I accept” he said. The crowd erupted immediately while Margot looked absolutely outraged. “This is unacceptable!” “Guards,” Becca said calmly. Two guards immediately stepped forward and Margot’s face went pale slightly. “You wouldn’t dare.” Becca looked utterly unbothered. “Escort her out.” Margot looked horrified. “You cannot humiliate me like this!” Becca’s expression remained perfectly calm. Margot looked completely speechless as the guards firmly escorted her from the hall despite her furious protests.

I would have hated it if she didn’t like me. Mrs. Lachlan's discerning eye didn't miss a beat as she surveyed the array of plain wedding dresses before us. With a gentle yet assertive tone, she said, "Mary deserves to wear something truly beautiful on her special day. This doesn’t suit her." "My mother agrees," I interjected before my mother said something rude that would make Mrs. Lachlan feel like I am their adopted child, "but Mr. McKinnon said no. He doesn't want my wedding to outshine his son's, so he sent this woman to show the dresses that he has accepted."

The number one wealthiest woman in the whole of the USA. “I... I just want to help the older woman with her hair, I mean no harm, sir.” Scarlet fearfully stammered to the guard who was standing gallantly in front of her. “Let her be, Marcellus!” Mrs. Browns spoke strictly to the chief of the guards. “Yes, Mrs. Browns!” Marcellus bowed and stepped aside for Scarlet to pass. “Good evening, ma’am!” Scarlet greets courteously with a bow after walking closer to the woman.

The head housekeeper is standing at attention beside the grand staircase when she yells out to her, "Francesca. Tonight, I want the dining room to be arranged for twelve people. Don't use anything less than the silver flatware and the crystal glasses.” Francesca bows respectfully, "Yes, Mrs. Craig," and hurries away. Marie turns to Reginald, the butler, an old man who had worked for her for many years. "Reginald, it's time to update the wine cellar inventory. Make sure the Château Margaux is ready and decanted by six o'clock.” "Of course, ma'am," Reginald says quietly as he nods, then returns to his work. Marie glances around the room and sees the young gardener standing clumsily near the do

Or if you leave your address, we can deliver it straight to your door. ‘I said I want this one. I’m not letting it go,’ Pink Hair shot back, clutching the bracelet tighter. The assistant glanced at me as if about to mediate, but I cut in before she could speak. ‘Not happening. Once I’ve chosen something, it’s mine. No one takes it from me.’ At that point, Genevieve finally wandered over. ‘Mirabelle, isn’t it? What a coincidence.’ I gave her a frosty look. ‘It’s Mrs Laurent to you.’

genius. I saw blues in that collection that I didn't even know existed. It was such a unique collection." She looked at Beau, saying, "I never knew you worked with Fress Astor. Why didn't you tell me?" Fress chuckled, saying, "Me and Beau go way back. As you can see we've had our fair share of disagreements so he doesn't like talking to me or about me he didn't even tell me you were coming today. Beau, I've never seen this beautiful woman around here. You should've told me we were going to have a beautiful guest at our meeting so I could wear something more appropriate instead of dressing casually. Is she a new model for the event?" Beau tightened his jaw, thinking, 'Keep it together Beau,

How right. My hands shook as I scrolled through the photos. There, three posts down, was one from two days ago. A group shot at some charity luncheon. Mrs. Sanderson stood in the background, champagne glass raised. Genevieve’s caption: Amazing afternoon supporting arts education with these incredible women. Grateful for mentors who teach us about grace under pressure. Grace under pressure. A direct shot at my supposed lack thereof. Someone knocked on my office door. “Come in.” Simone Beaumont swept in wearing her usual uniform of black dress and expensive jewelry. She was French, thirty-eight, and had the kind of effortless elegance I’d spent years trying to emulate.

I hesitate before answering. “Hello?” “Alo!” a heavily accented voice calls from the other side of the world. It must already be morning wherever she is because she sounds much more chipper than I feel. “Is this Harper Ward?” “Yes?” I answer, completely taken aback. “This is Marianne LaFleur, director of the École des Beaux-Arts in Paris. I apologize for the abrupt call, but I wanted to reach out personally with an opportunity we think you’d be perfect for.”