Page 67 of The Last Night in London
“Perhaps,” Eva said instead.
“That wasn’t so beastly, was it?” Sophia asked.
“It was, but I survived. And it’s over.”
“That it is. Now, I suggest we go upstairs and rest before the other guests arrive for tonight’s supper. It’s only a small group becauseof Father still being so ill, but I will need to look my best. David’s parents and sister will be here, and they will adore you. I’ll make sure you’re sitting near them. I can’t switch place cards for you and Aurelia, or Mother will get suspicious. You do know that Graham has eyes for no one but you?”
Eva nodded. “And David, you.”
A pretty flush dusted Sophia’s cheeks. “Then we’re in good company.”
They linked arms as they returned to the corridor, walking past a housemaid on her hands and knees next to a broken vase, blotting up water and picking up stray pieces. Eva started to smile at her but stopped when she noticed Sophia walking by as if the maid weren’t there at all. Averting her gaze, Eva followed Sophia down the hallway, the sound of the scrub brush seeming to chase her until Sophia closed a door behind them.
—
Mr. St. John was conspicuously absent at the Friday night supper. Graham took his father’s place at the head of the table, as William was training with the RAF and would miss the entire wedding weekend. Graham and Eva hadn’t had a moment to talk before supper, and Aurelia had monopolized him during the meal, but as soon as the orchestra began, Graham claimed Eva for the first dance, earning a disapproving look from his mother.
Eva hoped Mrs. St. John would be quickly distracted by her guests and wouldn’t notice the way Graham looked at her. Not that it mattered. As soon as she was in Graham’s arms, nothing else mattered.
The terrace doors had been opened, allowing dancers to waltz in and out of the ballroom. Graham led them outside, dancing to the strains of “Begin the Beguine,” and they remained, the sounds of the orchestra and the warm night air caressing her bare shoulders as they swayed.
Eva smiled up at him. “I missed you. Am I allowed to ask what you were doing in France?”
“Isn’t it enough to know I missed you?”
“For now. I just hate being without you, knowing you’re far away. The nights are the hardest.”
The moonlight made his eyes gleam. “Even if you dream we’re together in your house by the sea?”
“Even then,” she whispered. She moved her hands to his shoulders to bring him closer. He winced, and she pulled away.
“What’s wrong?”
“I’m all right. Just a minor accident. You know the French—never paying attention to where they’re going.” He smiled, but his eyes were hidden in the darkness. “I have a bit of a bruise, but that’s all.”
“Thank goodness,” Eva said, breathing in the scent of him. “I couldn’t bear knowing you were hurt.”
“I know. I promise to be extra careful in future.”
The notes of the orchestra died, but they continued swaying to their own music. They were dancing on a precipice, and Eva was ready to fall.
When he came to her room that night, she was waiting for him in the dark, the full moon outside pouring into the open window, painting her skin with opalescent light. She rushed to him, and he took her in his arms.
“I couldn’t go to sleep without wishing you a proper good night,” he said, his lips placing small kisses on her neck and jaw.
“I wish you could stay.”
“Me, too.” He held her so they could be face-to-face. “But I would never dishonor you, darling. You mean too much to me.”
He kissed her, and the room disintegrated beyond her closed eyelids as she allowed her world to become only the two of them.
After he left, Eva lay in bed and stared up at the ceiling for a long while, watching the shadows move across the room, imagining she and Graham were together, listening to the crash of waves far below their house by the sea.
CHAPTER 21
LONDON
JULY 1939
