Page 36 of The Last Night in London
Eva stared at him, waiting for him to tell her he was joking. The news was too good to be true, and her mother had always told her to take good news with a grain of salt; it was never as good as it sounded. She and Precious had found another flat, but certainly not as nice as the one David owned and definitely not anywhere near Regent’s Park.
“Are you quite sure he was serious?” she asked.
Graham laughed and placed his hands on her arms. “Of course, darling. Why wouldn’t I be? David has met you and believes you to be quite respectable and a good prospective tenant. I couldn’t agree more.”
Precious was nearly jumping with excitement, and Eva allowed some of it to roll onto her. “That would be lovely. Really lovely. I’ll write them a note of thanks this evening.” She smiled up at him, looking into his eyes, trying to be sure he wasn’t holding anything back.
“Now, ladies, my errand is done, and I must go. I look forward to seeing you both at the show.”
“I’ll walk you to the door,” Eva said.
Precious, understanding her meaning, said, “And I’ll do the washing up. Good-bye, Graham. It was so nice to meet you.” Her accent hadn’t softened in all her months in England, and Graham seemed charmed by it.
He held the door open for Eva, and they stepped out into the small hallway, where the smell of liver and onions assaulted her nose. “I’m so sorry... ,” she began.
Graham interrupted her. “Don’t ever apologize to me. Do you think I care that the death of your parents has left you in reduced circumstances? It doesn’t matter to me. I love your— What did you say it was? Your ‘lust for adventure and success in adversity.’ I findthat more attractive than all of Croesus’s gold.” He stepped closer, his lips brushing hers. “You, Eva Harlow, are the most captivating and enigmatic woman I’ve ever known. And your circumstances now do not reflect who you are. Or where you’re headed.”
She felt light-headed, her breath coming in shallow gasps. “What do you mean?”
“I mean that this”—he indicated the dreary white paint and bare bulb above them—“is temporary. Your station in life will change because you want it to. You have ambition and drive, two attributes I find alarmingly attractive.”
His hands slid from her waist to her hips as he drew her toward him. “Alarmingly?” she asked, the word hard to find. “Shall I go fetch the fire brigade?”
He grinned against her mouth. “No, because then you wouldn’t be here for me to kiss.”
And he proceeded to do just that until a door slammed on a floor above and heavy footsteps began to descend the steps. “I’ll speak with Alex,” Graham said, reluctantly drawing away. “We’ll make plans for our trip to Kew. I’ll borrow David’s motorcar again, and we can pick you both up here.”
Eva thought of Alexander Grof seeing this place and cringed, even more appalled to imagine him here than she had been at actually seeing Graham on her sofa. “We should be in our new place by then.”
“I’ll ask Sophia and David, too, shall I?”
A loud belch accompanied the heavy footsteps from the landing directly above them, making Graham laugh silently.
Better than being horrified,Eva thought.
“Yes, that would be—” Her last word was cut off, as he was kissing her again. Abruptly, he pulled away and headed down the stairs, pausing to look up at her. “I’ll see you Saturday. I’ll be in the front row.”
“Won’t I see you before then?” She felt oddly bereft.
“Sadly, I have work obligations. I promise to make up for lost time, though.”
He smiled and was gone before she could question him about where he’d be and what he’d be doing. All she knew was that he was working in Whitehall for the Home Office, doing a job he said was too boring to talk about.
“Good-bye,” she said, but he was already gone.
A large bearded man carrying a lunch pail lumbered past her in the hallway, lifting his cap before heading down the stairs.
Eva turned to go back inside, but when the purse swung on her wrist, she felt something slide from one side to the other with a solidclunk. The purse was heavier than she remembered it being, definitely heavier than her lipstick and pressed powder compact should have been. Curious, she opened the lid and peered inside. A rectangular silver box reflected the overhead lightbulb. Eva smiled, imagining it must have been a gift from Graham and appreciating the unexpected and unassuming nature of the way he’d given it to her. Securing the strap around her wrist, she lifted the silver box from the purse.
A delicate filigree design covered the entire case, with the exclusion of an oval space on the front, in which the etched body of a bee had been placed. Eva swallowed back her initial reaction of revulsion; having been forced to live with insects and rodents throughout her childhood, she’d learned to hate them. But then she remembered the case had been a gift from Graham and made herself examine it more closely, studying the almost transparent wings and striped body, the furred sections of the legs, the two stubby antennae.
Frowning as she struggled to determine the bee’s meaning, she flipped the case over. A sterling hallmark had been etched into one corner, and tiny words sat on the bottom edge like a line of ants:nil credam et omnia cavebo.
The meaning was foreign to her, the words something other than English. Eva had a panicked moment, wondering if this might be a test from Graham of her education. She quickly dismissed the thought. It just wasn’t something he would do. She was convinced of that.
She turned the case over to look at the bee again, at how real it appeared, and a shudder flowed through her like a wave. What couldit possibly mean? Why would Graham have given her such a thing? With her painted thumbnail, she carefully pried open the top. A cream-colored note sat inside, folded crisply in half. Eva opened it, her eyes scanning the words first without reading, and she realized with a start that she’d never seen Graham’s handwriting before. The letters were thick and bold, all sharp angles and lines. Not at all what she imagined his handwriting would look like. Her gaze drifted to the signature, and her mouth went dry.Alex.Not Alexander, or Alexander Grof, butAlex. As if he were assuming a familiarity with her that didn’t exist.
Her eyes drifted back to the top of the note, and she began to read.
