Love By Design

Chapter 27

Royals of Toussaint x Holmes London Collaboration:The Regalwear CollectionLead Designer: Sebastian O. HolmesDesign Assistant: Mahalia A. HarttSupport Team: Estelle N. Li-Young, Pollux L. Okusanya

Reviewing the brief for the regalwear collection and finding my name listed as part of the team made everything more real. The project deviates from the standard process of a collection, the Toussaint Royals only requesting for a set of samples to present at the annual Winter Gala at Cionne, the capital city of Toussaint, before the official tailoring for each royal could begin.

This meant that if I did well, I could continue working on this project in the foreseeable future. And even explore future projects surrounding it, should the opportunity present itself.

With the brief in my inbox and an introductory meeting scheduled for next week with an actual member of the Toussaint royal family, I feel the nervous excitement building. Contributing to a high-profile project for a distinguished client is a remarkable milestone and I still can’t believe I’ve been given the opportunity.

My first official project.

A Regalwear Collection.

The initial task I’ve been assigned before starting actual work is clearing out the secondary studio on the fourth floor, where I’ll be working with Sebastian on the collection. It was a way to keep the main collection downstairs separate from special client work.

I immediately get to work as I reach the second studio, drawing the blinds open to let natural light in from the outside. I look around the space appreciatively, taking note of the stacks of cardboard boxes and haphazardly placed mannequins in the room. It’s not as big as the main studio downstairs, only half of its size really, but the space is more than adequate since it would only be Sebastian and I working here rather than the usual team of five.

If he ever decides to actually work in the studio, that is.

Pollux warned me of Sebastian’s tendency to work from home days at a time and then deliver results last minute and I’ve mentally prepared myself for any hiccups along the way.

Quietly humming to myself, I’m wiping down the surface of the worktables in the middle of the room when I hear voices out in the corridor.

Puzzled to know who else is on the fourth floor, I peer outside of the door and freeze as I spot the recognisable head of platinum blond hair. August is in the middle of a conversation with another person, their voices filling the empty corridor. I do a double-take because they look strikingly similar at first glance.

Same height, same stature. Same facial features, almost.

One could easily mistake them for twins, if it wasn’t for the stark contrast between August’s platinum head of hair and the honey-brown locks of his companion. They walk past the secondary studio, completely unaware of my presence inside.

“Why didn’t you go to Vante?” I instantly recognise August’s voice as he speaks, an urgency in his tone.

“We did,” Comes the reply. “You turned us down.”

“What?” August sounds taken aback.

A pause. “The Palace received an ever so gracious email of rejection from the Cedric Vante himself. Redirected the Royal Comms to Holmes instead to take over the project, putting in good word of the studio team led by a certain Sebastian Oliver Holmes.”

“What?”

“I figured your knowledge would be limited since I didn’t hear anything from you firsthand.”

“Limited?” Annoyance laces his voice. “More like nonexistent.”

“Clearly.”

“I’m sure the work of your favourite designer will help.”

Intrigued, I poke my head further out of the door, noticing them standing in front of his office.

“I’m not worried about her,” August says, almost defensively. “She’s perfectly capable. She can take over the entire project if she wants to, in fact, I encourage it.”

His companion hums in acknowledgement.

“It’s Sebastian,” August continues. “Leading the team, of all people. I thought my father wanted good press for Holmes but this move just sends us back to the not-so-high graces of the press. This is going to be tabloid fodder.”

“Are you sure your concerns aren’t a personal matter?” The stranger asks. “Sebastian can be… a little neurotic but he still delivers excellent work. Aside from what happened with the spring/summer collection last year.”

“It’s complicated.” The exasperation in August’s voice is evident. “When exactly did my father approve of this?”

“Last week.” Came the answer from his company. “Uncle dearest not only approved of the switch, he endorsed it.”

My eyes widen.

Uncle?

Their conversation continues to echo down the empty corridor, making it clear I’m not privy to their discussion.

I retreat to the studio room in an attempt to stay hidden, quietly pushing the sliding door into a close lest they know that there are actually other people (ie. me) on the same floor.

The quiet sound of the lock clicks shut and I breathe out a sigh of relief. Slowly backing away from the door, my triumph is short-lived when I accidentally bump into a mannequin.

Like a domino effect, it sends the rest of the dozen mannequins crashing onto the laminate flooring.

“No!” I whisper-gasp, dust erupting around the heap of dressmaker dummies. “Damn it.”

I cover my mouth to prevent the cough from coming up my lungs but I accidentally inhale the dust through my nose, making me sneeze loudly instead.

“Atchoo!”

There’s a brief pause before I hear the rapid approach of footsteps. I inwardly curse, breaking out into a coughing fit as the sliding doors open, revealing a pair of light grey eyes. His gaze carries a mixture of surprise and confusion as it locks on to me.

“Mahalia?” August blinks.

“Hi,” I cough, waving awkwardly as dust floats around the room.

I pull on the mannequins in an effort to stand them back up, my attempt feeble as the dressmaker dummies continue to topple over.

August narrows his eyes as he glances around the dusty studio and I see him hesitate for a few seconds before he and his companion step inside the room.

“What are you doing here?” He asks.

Curiously, I eye the person trailing behind him.

Tall, like August. If not a little taller due to his much straighter, much more rigid posture. Whilst August is a little more relaxed, the stranger exudes an uprightness to him. He’s stylishly dressed, too, wearing a white button-up shirt underneath a caramel-coloured two-piece suit and tan Oxford shoes.

“Estelle told me to set up for the regalwear collection,” I explain, glancing over at the third party in the room. “She wants Sebastian and I to use the secondary studio.”

At the mention of the project, the tall well-dressed stranger perks up.

“Oh!” Honey-coloured hair and warm hazel eyes greet me with a regarding look. “You’re working on the Holmes collaboration with Toussaint?”

“I’m assistant to the Lead Designer,” I confirm, offering my hand. “Mahalia Hartt.”

There’s a knowing twinkle in the stranger’s eyes as he looks over me quickly. “The Mahalia Aurora Hartt?”

I blink at the full mention of my government name.

“Umm, yes.”

Glancing over at August, I see him silently watch me interact with the unknown stranger bearing an uncanny resemblance to him.

“Tobias,” The stranger introduces himself with a warm smile as he shakes my hand. “Of Toussaint.”

My mind blanks, brain short-circuiting as I take a moment for his greeting to process.

“Your Highness,” I gasp, eyes widening as it finally does so.

“You may curtsy,” He instructs with a charming nod, causing me to nearly trip over my feet in awe.

“Tobias,” August addresses him, cautiously.

Still reeling from the unexpected encounter, I forget all sense of decorum regarding royal protocol as I bow my head and dip slightly into a curtsy, accidentally bumping into the mannequins again.

August is quick to react as he reaches out towards my direction. His hand grabs my arm to steady me, but completely misses the toppling dressmaker dummies behind.

I wince at the loud crash that follows. “Sorry.”

“Be careful,” August turns to me, his expression softening. “Are you okay?”

I nod wordlessly, a fleeting recollection of soft grey eyes and intimate encounters flashing through my mind.

My flat, his office, the bar, the fitting, the club.

Neither August and I have spoken properly to address the events that happened between us during Men’s Fashion Week, becoming lost in translation as we gradually got busier with our jobs at Holmes. It almost feels like a fever dream, a distant memory left unspoken, now that we’re back to working in our respective roles.

A slow and deliberate cough interrupts my thoughts and I straighten up, glancing at the hazel-eyed prince behind August. The nervousness I feel grows tenfold at the sight of my first client in the same room as the man I may or may not be still harbouring a little crush on.

Prince Tobias smiles kindly at me.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Hartt.”

“Just Hallie is fine,” I stammer, bowing forward again and mentally cringing at my anxious behaviour. “And likewise– Your Highness, sir.”

“Tobias is here to see the studio,” August says.

This time, I notice the lack of title in his acknowledgement of the second-in-line to the Toussaint crown.

“August is kindly showing me around,” Prince Tobias adds, eyes shifting attentively as he scans the secondary studio.

I gesture awkwardly around the room.

“This is, um, one of the smaller studios. I’m tidying it up and clearing it out. It’s going to be 100% spotless for the collection, rest assured.”

Nervously, I glance over at August who appears to be hyper-focused on the fallen mannequins on the floor. He seems tense, as if he’d rather be anywhere else.

“I don’t doubt that for a moment,” Prince Tobias replies with a look of congeniality, most definitely fit for a royal. “I look forward to seeing the collection.”

“Thank you, sir.” I nod, remembering not to curtsy this time. “Your Highness.”

“Just Tobias will do.” He clears his throat, casting a sideways glance at August. “Since we are in the company of my dear cousin.”

I blink at this information.

Cousin!?

Wide-eyed, I turn to August.

“Tobias,” He warns, once again omitting any formal title when addressing the royal.

“Ah,” Prince Tobias gives August a, far too polished, look of atonement. “Apologies.”

August sighs, shaking his head, as I stay quiet. My mind is working overtime as I make the connection with August and one of the crown princes of Mediterranean Europe.

Of course, he would have associations with royalty, of course.

“Do you need any help?” August turns towards me.

My mouth opens in alarm. “N-no! It’s alright, I’ve got it all under control.”

Both men, all sharp angles and tall stature, glance over at the toppled mannequins on the floor and exchange a look.

“Right,” August frowns as I offer him, what I hope to be, a reassuring smile.

“I’m sure I’ll be fine,” I continue. “Thank you though.”

August doesn’t reply straight away. Instead, he shares another look with Prince Tobias. They seem to communicate almost telepathically, the faintest rise of the prince’s eyebrow prompting the most not-so-subtle of eye rolls from the nepo baby himself.

“I suppose I have nothing else in my schedule today,” The royal responds. “I am here to see the studio after all.”

I shake my head towards August and send him a pointed look, hoping he reads between the lines.

“Your Highness, it’s fine,” I say. “Thank you sincerely for the offer but—”

“We’ll give you a hand.” August decides, eyes roaming around the unkempt studio.

Inwardly, I wince.

So much for reading between the lines.

“August, it’s dusty and grimy and not clean,” I stress, hoping his semi-hypochondriac tendency will make him reconsider.

“Then the sooner we tidy up, the better.” He replies, taking one last sweeping look around the studio. “I’ll grab one of the humidifiers in my office.”

He leaves without saying anything else and I can only watch as he exits the room. From the corner of my eye, I see Prince Tobias moving to upright the fallen dressmaker dummies, prompting me to scramble towards him immediately.

“Prince Tobias, truly. There’s no need to—”

“I insist, Miss Hartt.” The prince interjects with a warm smile. “It’s only a little bit of organising. Perhaps it will distract my dear cousin from having an aneurysm over the latest news regarding the Holmes collaboration.”

“Oh,” I swallow, not entirely sure how to approach the conversation I so happen to have been eavesdropping on. “I, umm, was made aware that Holmes wasn’t your first choice for the regalwear collection.”

“Yes,” Prince Tobias nods, a slight hesitance clouding his cheerful expression. “We initially pursued a collaboration with Vante. Family ties and whatnot.”

My mind is still reeling from the revelation of August’s connection to aristocracy, leaving me unable to contribute much to the conversation. The extended silence that follows is stilted as I struggle to think of things to say.

As if sensing my anxiousness, Prince Tobias continues.

“But no matter, we have faith in Holmes since uncle did hand the responsibility over to the studio,” Tobias reassures me, the gracious smile back on his face. “Also, if you are indeed the Mahalia Aurora Hartt then I’ve seen your work.”

“You have?” I gape.

“Estelle sent us your portfolio,” He details. “Your Disney Prince collection is a work of fantastic craftsmanship, Miss Hartt. You most certainly have the eye and skill for design.”

“Oh, t-thank you, sir.” I stutter out a response. “I appreciate that.”

I find it slightly disorienting that Prince Tobias, second in line to the Toussaint crown, is engaging in actual conversation with me as he helps clear out a dusty room at Holmes let alone complimenting my portfolio.

“I can see why my cousin is a big fan of your work,” He muses. “Have you considered women’s clothing? Or is your work strictly menswear?”

“I do commission work for womenswear,” I nod. “But I specialised in men’s tailoring at uni.”

“You’re LIFT alumni, correct?”

“Yes, sir.” I reply.

Though he doesn’t seem that much older than I am, if anything he seems to be around August’s age, my excessive politeness in the presence of new company naturally kicks in.

“Please, call me Tobias.” He insists. “Prim and propriety is only for the public eye after all.”

I nod, laughing out of nervousness. Even though I’m certain I’m still going to address him every other formal variation of his royal title and not just simply Tobias.

August returns, a contemplative look on his face as he meets me in the middle of the studio.

“Here.” He reaches out towards me, his touch gentle as he places the humidifier in my hands.

My heart rate picks up as his fingertips brush against my skin, the touch lingering much longer than necessary. My gaze falls to our connected hands and I look up to find August’s grey eyes staring intently at me.

“Thank you.” I nod, breathless.

Another purposeful cough resounding in the studio brings me out of my trance.

August drops his hand and I turn towards Prince Tobias peering over at us with an inquisitive look.

“Am I correct to assume you have a structure in mind as to where everything should be?” Prince Tobias asks.

He continues to haul up the rest of the mannequins as August walks over to the worktable stacked with cardboard boxes of different sizes.

“She has a system with everything,” August answers for me.

It shouldn’t affect me how August seems to know my working habits but I find my heart fluttering at his attentiveness nonetheless.

Prince Tobias sends August a knowing glance before turning to me.

“We’re at your disposal, Miss Hartt.”