The Last Night in London by Karen White (reading list .TXT) 📕

She turned on him, angry. “If it’s so important to you, why don’t you ask him? While you’re at it, ask him what his income is, too. Believe me, you’re the only person who cares.”

He surprised her by throwing back his head and laughing. “You amuse me, Eva. You really do. Because I am quite sure that you don’t want me talking too much with your St. John, do you?”

She was startled by a tap on her shoulder. Turning, she saw Precious leaning forward from the backseat. “Hey, you two. What’s so funny? We can’t hear a word back here.”

“Nothing,” Eva said. “Nothing at all.” She looked past her friend’s shoulders to Graham. He smiled at her, his eyes showing an odd light.

She managed to ignore Alexander for the rest of the drive, and when they arrived at Kew Gardens, Graham was quick to claim her. They paired off, leaving Precious with Alex. And when Eva and Graham walked into the glass-and-iron Victorian Palm House, its tropical air sticky and wet, he pulled her into an isolated corner behind a towering palm, the odd light in his eyes gone now, leaving behind something dark and earthy. He kissed her with a new hunger, a need she reciprocated, and told her he loved her.

“And I, you,” she said, meaning it. She pressed her mouth against his, feeling his sweat mingling with hers, and tried to pretend that everything Alex had said wasn’t true.

CHAPTER 16

LONDON

MAY 2019

“Are you ready to go, Nana?” Colin asked solicitously as he settled a peach-colored shawl over Precious’s shoulders.

She patted his cheek. “Of course. I’ve always loved a weekend at Hovenden Park. Your grandmother Sophia used to throw the most elegant house parties back in the day. I love Penelope and James, but their entertainments are smaller. And don’t tell your mother I said this, but they aren’t as swanky as Sophia’s, either.”

Colin gently took hold of her arm and led her toward the front door. “They don’t have a staff of fifty, Nana. It’s hard to pull off ‘swanky’ without that sort of help.”

“Ah, yes. The good old days,” Precious said, her voice wistful.

Colin looked at me, and I stifled a laugh. With her arm on his, he carefully led Precious out to the lift.

“I’ve got the newspaper clippings,” Arabella said, emerging from the dining room. “All organized by date, thanks to Colin’s diligence. And the hatbox of photos is already in the Rover, next to the groceries for the dinner you’re preparing tonight, Maddie. Takeout is a bit dodgy up there, so I threw in some canned beans and bread. Aunt Penelope and Uncle James eat much too healthy for my taste.”

I lifted the small cosmetics case I was carrying. “I’ve got all of Precious’s makeup and her pills—thanks to Laura. I don’t know which one Precious would be more upset about us forgetting.”

“The makeup,” we said simultaneously, then followed Colin and Precious out to the lift.

As we descended, Colin said offhandedly, “George is waiting in the backseat. Since Nana is sitting up front with me, I’m afraid you two will have to share with him. I hope you don’t mind.”

“If we do mind,” I said, “can we make you run alongside while one of us drives?”

His response was a raised eyebrow. He opened the lift gate, then held the door while Arabella escorted Precious through the lobby and down the steps. In the car, George was clearly excited, his large head held out of the rear window, as an impressive amount of slobber dripped down the glass.

We settled the rest of the luggage into the back of the Land Rover, then took our seats, Arabella and I fending off an exuberant greeting from George that lasted for the first few miles before he settled down in the middle, his head on my lap, looking very pleased with life.

Arabella picked up a wadded towel from the floor—probably used for window wipe downs after car trips with George—and handed it to me. “You might want to put this under his head, so it doesn’t look as if you’ve had an accident.”

I did as she’d suggested and grinned wryly as I stroked George’s big head while he looked at me goofily. “I wish Oscar was here to see this,” I said.

I met Colin’s amused gaze in the rearview mirror for a moment, then turned away. Remembering the photograph of me that I’d been pretending I hadn’t seen on his desk, I focused my attention out the window as we made our way through London’s Friday afternoon traffic.

The week had been typically drizzly and chilly, but there were gaps in the clouds and the weather forecaster promised warmer temps and blue skies for the weekend. I knew better than to believe it and would check my weather app often, but it was a nice hope after a week of rain.

The scent of Precious’s perfume drifted from the front seat, a sweet floral scent that might have been jasmine warmed with deeper and darker woodsy notes. Something exotic. It wasn’t a perfume I recognized or even a scent that might have been popular with today’s preference for louder, bigger fragrances and celebrity spokespersons. It was the kind of perfume that made me think of old movies and women smoking cigarettes with lacquered red lips, wearing long, elegant dresses, and looking fabulous while they managed to save the day as the world fell apart around them.

I recalled the scent that had risen from the pile of clothes when I’d retrieved my buried jacket the other evening, and thought it might have been the same one.

“I love your perfume, Precious. What is it?”

The side of her mouth turned up. “It’s Vol de Nuit. My model friends and I used to stop by the perfume counter at Selfridges to spritz on a sample before going out, which is why I don’t buy it anywhere else now that I can afford it.” She gave