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

I thought for a moment. “Precious, do you know if Graham and Eva were ever engaged?”

She turned her head away, toward the side window. The only sound in the car was the thrum of the tires against asphalt. When she finally spoke, she was looking again at her hands, folded tightly in her lap. “I think they both wanted to get married.” Her chin dropped to her chest. “But then fate intervened.”

“By fate, do you mean that the war intervened?”

“Some might see it that way. But Eva believed that fate was something that happened to other people. As if she could control anything at all.”

Colin sent me another glance in the rearview mirror. I sat back in my seat. I wanted to ask her about Sophia’s cut-up photographs, but I could tell that Precious wanted to change the topic. “I think Arabella has more clippings to share. I’d love to hear your comments about them and how the times you were living through affected your choices about what you wore.”

“I suppose,” she said quietly before turning her head toward her side window again for the rest of the drive.

—

The spring breeze had pushed the clouds away by the time we arrived at Hovenden Park, the afternoon sunlight painting the fields in shades of sage, lime, and olive. Fieldstone fences meandered over the landscape, which was punctuated by the occasional farmhouse, pasture of sheep, or field furrow. It was so different from the landscape of red Georgia clay beneath parched summer grass and the fields of cotton and soybeans I was familiar with. It was as if someone had dipped a paintbrush into two separate palettes and painted two soothing interpretations of what home should be. The effect on the viewer was the same—a pulling at the heart that returned a person to their childhood, at least for a moment.

Colin parked the Land Rover in the drive as the front door flew open and a dog that looked a lot like George burst out down the front steps, rounding the SUV to my side of the vehicle. George went crazy, pawing at the door, and I immediately opened it so I wouldn’t get slobbered on to death.

“Sorry,” said Colin, his expression not reflecting the apology as he pulled my door open wider. “That’s Charlotte, George’s sister—yes, as in Princess Charlotte. You didn’t get to meet her last time you were here because she was with my dad. They’ll probably find a good mud puddle or cowpat to roll in, but as long as they’re happy . . .”

“Right,” I said, and climbed out, hoping there’d be a chance for a dog bath before the drive back to London on Sunday. I followed Colin to the passenger side, where his parents were helping Precious exit the vehicle. I watched Precious kiss Colin’s father on the cheek and for a brief moment cup his jaw with a veined hand, her rings catching the light. It was a touching exchange, reminding me of how Precious had adopted Sophia’s family as her own. I couldn’t help but consider that the adoption might have been mutual.

I greeted Penelope, who turned to the man beside her.

“Maddie, this is my husband, James. He’s been eager to meet you after hearing so much about you.”

I slid a glance toward Colin, who was patently looking away, and shook his father’s hand. “It’s a pleasure.”

Colin’s father was tall, fit, and lean, despite being in his seventies, with the rugged good looks of someone who spent a lot of time outdoors. His blond hair had threads of gray at the sideburns, but it was still thick and wavy and entirely unfair to the majority of the female population.

I stopped midshake, studying his face closely, unsure of what I thought I’d seen. He and Colin shared the same build and coloring, but James’s eyes were hazel, not blue, and no freckles decorated the bridge of his nose. His smile was all Colin’s, though. Full lips that still managed to be masculine in a smile that could have been mocking but for the tilt of the head and the dimpled chin that was both charming and devastating.

“Is something wrong?” James asked.

“No, not at all.” I slipped my hand from his but continued looking at his face. “I guess I’m trying to figure out who Colin favors.”

“After looking at the photo you discovered in Sophia’s things, Penelope and I think he’s a dead ringer for his great-uncle Graham.”

I nodded. “Yes, but there’s something in your face that’s so familiar, too. I’ll have to go back over Sophia’s photos from when she was younger. Maybe it’s there.”

“Certainly. And Penelope has pulled out the wedding album for you to look at in the library. Hunting for photos has been a nice distraction from the newly discovered roof leak in the west wing, so thank you for that.” He grinned. “And welcome back to Hovenden Park. We’re delighted you’re able to stay for the weekend, and we thank you for bringing Precious. I understand that you’ll be dazzling our palates with a few Southern dishes tonight. I know we will all enjoy them, but especially Precious.”

We turned to see her hanging on to Colin’s arm in front of the steps, staring up at the facade of the house, the light from the sky hiding the ashy tone of her skin and making her appear young again.

“This house always brings back memories,” she said.

“Good ones, I hope,” Colin said, leading her up the steps.

“Mostly.” She looked straight ahead as she walked into the foyer, almost as if she were walking back in time, expecting to see someone inside waiting for her.

While James and Colin brought in the luggage and the assorted bags of food, Penelope escorted Precious, Arabella, and me past the Henry VIII tent panels and through an arched doorway into the library. A blazing fire roared in the large fireplace. The smell of woodsmoke made me think of home again and cold winter mornings spent at my