Page 29 of The Last Night in London
“Vol de Nuit.” Her husky voice sounded as if it belonged to someone else. When she’d been in Selfridges to buy the shoes, she’d passed the counter where a salesgirl was offering a sample dab. Eva knew she had to have it but couldn’t afford it. Which was why she’d stopped by Selfridges on her way to Lushtak’s tonight to tap on the perfume from the sample bottle.
“It means ‘Night Flight,’” she said, having already asked Odette for the translation and practiced the pronunciation—which Odette said was flawless. “From a book written by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, about a man’s lust for adventure and success in adversity.”The salesgirl had told her that much before it became clear that Eva wasn’t a paying customer, at which point she had abruptly left to help a mink-clad woman.
Graham kissed Eva behind the ear where she’d put a dollop of the perfume, and her pulse jumped under her skin. “So you have a lust for adventure and a desire for success in adversity?”
She smiled against his lips, which had returned to her mouth. “Of course.”
“Then I’d say we were well matched.” He grinned, but his eyes were serious as he stepped back. “We should be going. Sophia wanted us there before the other guests so she can have time to get to know you.”
He took her empty glass from her fingers and put it next to his on the table before adjusting the fur stole around her shoulders. “Ah,” he said as she picked up her bag and slid it onto her arm. “We owe a lot to that purse, don’t we? If you hadn’t dropped it in front of the chemist, we might never have met.”
“It was fate, wasn’t it? Like Romeo and Juliet,” Eva said proudly, happy to show off her newfound knowledge. At Mr. Danek’s suggestion, she’d begun frequenting the library and checking out books she thought would improve her mind. She’d even readPygmalion.
“I should hope not. I’d like to think we aren’t fated for such a tragic ending.” He winked at her to take the severity from his words, put on his hat and overcoat, then led her outside to the front of the building, where a long dark car awaited them.
A uniformed driver held open the back door. Graham must have felt Eva’s hesitation, because he placed his hand on hers where it rested in the crook of his arm. “Sadly, it isn’t mine—I’m a mere second son, and a humble public servant at that. The car is borrowed from my future brother-in-law, David Eliot. He has much deeper pockets than I do. I suppose the only thing we have to worry about is whether or not it will turn into a pumpkin at midnight.”
She laughed, and he kissed her again, then held her hand as he helped her into the backseat. He broke contact only to move to the other side of the car to get in, then kept his hand solidly over hers as they made their way down Saint George Street.
The car slowed as they turned into Berkeley Square, with its flat-fronted brick buildings, each with four or five floors with regularly spaced sash windows and brass fittings on the front doors. The elegant town houses surrounding the private garden in the center of the square lent the whole neighborhood the illusion of being a perfect oasis despite how close it was to the bustle of the shopping district.
The driver stopped at the curb in front of an imposing entrance beneath an iron canopy with a hanging carriage light. A single stone step led up to a large black door. Beneath an elaborate fan window with wavy glass, a brass lion’s-head knocker held court in the middle of the door, its mouth open in midgrowl. For a brief moment, Eva felt as if it were telling her that she should go to the rear, where she belonged.
The driver stepped out and opened Eva’s door. Graham turned to her and asked softly, “Are you ready?” He squeezed her hand, and she loved him for that, for knowing without asking that she was nervous.
“Graham,” she said, suddenly afraid, wanting to turn back. But the look he gave her was open and honest, his eyes full of light and longing.
“Yes?” he prompted.
“I...” She stopped. “I’m glad you’re with me tonight. I feel at a loss when you’re not.”
His eyes widened. “Good,” he said, a grin forming. And then he kissed her slowly, his lips lingering on hers.
The front door of the town house opened. Anything else he’d been about to say was lost as he climbed from the car and escorted Eva to the door, where a butler waited.
Eva had a brief flash of a lofty entrance hall with a black-and-white marble-tiled floor and elaborate moldings, the bottom step of a grand staircase visible from the arched opening on the opposite end of the foyer. A handsome young couple waited in front of a tall gilded mirror. Eva recognized Sophia from the showing at Lushtak’s, noticing that she wore one of the frocks Eva had shown her. The pale blue silk was more conservatively cut than Eva’s gown, but flattered Sophia’s fuller figure and rounded bosom. A double strand of pearlsand matching earrings were her only extra adornments, besides the large emerald engagement ring on her left hand.
Graham kissed his sister on each cheek and shook hands with the tall, dark-haired man beside her. Graham turned to Eva, but before he could introduce her, Sophia took both of Eva’s hands in hers.
“Graham has spoken of you so much that I feel as if I already know you. I remember you from Lushtak’s. You looked so beautiful in all of the clothes that I had to have every single outfit in the hopes that I would look like you.” She smiled and a dimple deepened on her cheek. “Of course, that’s an impossibility, but one can hope.”
Sophia let go of Eva’s hands and turned to the man beside her. “This is my fiancé, David Eliot. If he weren’t so besotted with me, I wouldn’t have invited such a gorgeous creature as you to my home.”
She beamed up at David, and the look of adoration he returned made it clear that she was absolutely right.
As Eva greeted them both, she felt the skin on the back of her neck prickle. She turned her head slightly and met the gaze of two gray eyes so pale they appeared silver. They were set beneath thick brows in a masculine face that was spared perfection by its angularity—and a nose that appeared to have been broken at least once. Sharp cheekbones and a wide forehead split by a dark widow’s peak kept the man from appearing unapproachable. As did the grin he directed at Eva as he drew a cigarette to his mouth.
David followed her gaze. “Ah, Alexander. Come meet our guests.”
The man put out his cigarette in an ashtray before walking over to the group in the foyer. His gait was casual as he crossed the marble floor. He was powerfully built, even though he wasn’t tall; his silver eyes appeared to take in everything yet somehow find it all wanting.
“Alexander Grof,” he said, extending his hand to Graham. “David and I are old friends from our Harrow days.” They shook, and Graham introduced himself before placing his hand on the small of Eva’s back to bring her closer.
“This is Miss Eva Harlow.”
The man’s unusual eyes met hers again, and what seemed like ajolt of electricity pulsed through her. The feeling wasn’t the same as when Graham looked at her. More the sense of surprise caused by an intruder crashing through a locked door. Alexander took her hand and kissed it, making her wish that evening gloves were still in fashion. She didn’t look down at her hand, sure his lips had left some kind of a mark.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Grof,” Eva said, although it wasn’t, not really. He was an attractive, magnetic man, but he was like the luscious red apple hanging from the tree, beautiful to look at, possibly poisonous if eaten. Perhaps she’d seen too many films, but she couldn’t avoid the unsettled feeling he gave her, the sense of having stepped into quicksand.
