Mrs Beauregarde Novels & Stories

They are full of humour. I hope his grandson will be like him. I was still in a trance when Scarlet's loud voice interrupted me. "Are you even listening to me?". She shouted "Why are you yelling?". "The guests are here. It's time". She informed The room door opens and reveals Grace. She was dressed in a lilac sweetheart floor-length sequence gown that was fitted from her chest to her waist and it went free from her hips down to her ankle. The same goes for Scarlet. As for me. I am dressed in a cream colour silk floor-length open-back dress with a full lace long-sleeve. The slit cut that stopped almost at my mid-thigh.

Professor Sterling was already there, along with Madame Beaumont—a petite woman in her thirties with dark curls and paint stains on her fingers. "You must be our new deportment instructor," she said warmly. "Helena mentioned you'd be joining us. I'm Vivienne Beaumont, though the students call me Madame." "Camryn Chavez." "Sit, sit. The food here is actually quite good." She gestured to the spread of fresh bread, fruit, eggs, things I hadn't seen in weeks. "Sterling and I were just discussing the students. Have you taught before?" I'd rehearsed this. "A small school in the outer districts. Unfortunately, it burned down last year."

My eyes immediately found Isabella. “Alvara!” she waved, practically bouncing with excitement. “Come here!” I joined them just as our manager stepped forward. Clara Beaumont has a presence that commands attention naturally. She doesn’t need to raise her voice, yet when she spoke, everyone listened. “I assume you’ve all heard the news,” she began. A few nodded. “Yesterday, Maison Aurelle boutique received an official visit from the Hawthorne Luxury And Fashion Division” Even though I already knew, hearing it out loud made my chest tighten.

Oh, the foolish things sentiments made us do. "There's somewhere I have to be, I just uh...came here to be sure of what I saw on the internet," she dabbed the corner of her eyes with the hem of her royal blue, deep V-cut dress. "I'd be back soon to catch up on all the details and I'd most assuredly invite you to dinner sometime soon. It's just so hard to believe Jackson now has someone- " her voice broke as she spoke. Mrs. Jones cleared her throat and gave Maria one last adoring gaze, something about the way she looked made Maria feel warm.

Never ever. I shifted in my seat as Richmond discussed the contract over with the client. Mrs Beaumont, an american born woman who moved to France to start a designing company and was interested in doing business with our company, Richmond was particularly high strung about the deal and he'd spent the whole car ride here rehearsing certain phrases and running over behaviour with me to make sure I didn't say the wrong thing, as if I would've, he's barely let me say a word beside my name since we sat down. Mrs. Beaumont had amassed millions over the years and was looking for an investment company to help her make a little more money for herself and apparently our investment company came high

There's even a spiral staircase leading up to the second floor, wrapped around a glass chandelier. I pause. "Jesus... this place is huge. And so damn pretty. Everyone here looks so... expensive. I feel cheap just standing near them." Zayne chuckles and before he can make some smart comment, a voice calls out. "Mr. Beaumont!" A salesgirl in a sleek black uniform walks toward us with that trained retail smile. Her name tag reads Marge. "Welcome back," she says cheerfully. "It's lovely to have you here again. Would you like something to drink? Water? Juice?"

"I thought you might move back. Why else do you return to Gordes this often?" "Because it's my home? Because I want to see my family?", I shook my head at him. "You are surprising me with your shallow ideas, Gerald." "It's still mayor for you, Michael!", Gerald yelled. "Then it's Master of Business Administration Beaumont for you. Or Monsieur d'Beaumont. You have no power over me." "Anybody could get a Master's degree in business!" "Why don't you have one then, maire Blanc? ", I asked, my voice raised at him. I gave him a chiding glance, just like I did in the company when somebody was acting stupid.

The house felt strangely quiet the next morning. Arielle noticed it the moment she came downstairs. Lucien was already gone. Margaret was arranging flowers in the dining room when Arielle stepped into the kitchen. “Good morning, Miss Laurent,” Margaret said warmly. “Morning.” Arielle opened the cabinet and reached for a mug. “Mr. Moreau left early today,” Margaret added casually. Arielle paused for half a second before continuing to pour coffee. “Oh.” “He said he had meetings all morning.”

“We don’t steal recipes, honey. We acquire.” Before Rory could react, Genevieve swept in from the back like a choir solo—earrings, floral wrap dress, and a smile that could broker a truce or a war. “Well, if it isn’t the du Prée delegation. I’m Genevieve St. James, resident truth-teller and part-time hurricane.” Mabel grinned. “pardon me”— I’ve heard about you.” “And You’ll definitely hear more if you stay for pie,” Genevieve replied. “and You must be the mother.”

Every head turned when she stepped through the doorway. “Ah, there she is!” boomed a warm, feminine voice. A tall woman with flowing chestnut hair and regal posture rose from the far end of the table. “You must be Miss Grace. I’m Margaret Bearanstein — Arthur’s mother. Please, come in, dear.” Margaret radiated the kind of elegance that made Gwen instantly self-conscious. Her smile was genuine, but her eyes were sharp — appraising. “Thank you, Mrs. Bearanstein. It’s a pleasure to—”