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

didn’t remember the scenery, but I did remember him standing next to me, carrying my camera bag.

“You tried to kiss me,” he said.

I looked at him, recalling it clearly now. “No. You were the one who tried to kiss me.”

And before I could register that he was smiling, Colin leaned toward me and pressed his lips against mine. I was too startled to pull back right away, too aware of how nice it felt, appreciating the warmth of his mouth on mine, his hands gently resting on my waist, the dusky air that settled on our shoulders and seemed to push us together. The kiss deepened, and I found myself responding to him, to his touch, to the perfect melding of two bodies embracing. I was about to stretch my arms around his neck and pull him closer when I realized what I was doing and stopped, stepping back so quickly that I nearly lost my footing.

“I’m sorry. This . . . No. I can’t. . . .” I couldn’t formulate the rest of my words, no longer even sure why I was telling him no.

“Is it because of me? Or because you believe yourself to be living with a death sentence?” He didn’t look away, holding my gaze and forcing an answer.

The intimacy of the falling dusk and the taste of his lips on mine made me brave. “It’s not you.”

He sucked in a breath. “Good.” He paused a moment, considering his words. “I’m not trying to make light of what you’re dealing with, but I’ve done a little reading to understand all of this a bit better. Surely you know that having the gene doesn’t mean your life is guaranteed to be shortened or left unlived.”

I watched his face in the gathering gloom, doing my best to ignore the warmth in my chest his words had created. I’ve done a little reading to understand all of this a bit better. As if he truly cared. It was possible that he did, but only because he didn’t know the full story. I shook my head as if to erase his words. “But it might be. And then I’d be putting the ones I love through the same trauma we went through when my mother died. I can’t do that to them. I won’t do it.” I stepped back, needing to create space between us. “You couldn’t understand.”

His arms fell to his sides, his blue eyes reflecting the last light of day. He didn’t speak right away, and when he did, it wasn’t what I was expecting him to say.

“The little boy was named Jeremy. He was my twin brother, and he died of leukemia when we were nine years old.” He picked up my flashlight, which I’d dropped on the ground, and whistled for the dogs. “Come on. Best use your torch. If you twist an ankle, I doubt I could carry you all the way back, and I’d hate to have to leave you out here all night.”

With that, he flicked on his own flashlight and led the way, the dogs loping alongside. I trudged along behind them, the darkness nipping at my heels and chasing me down the hill.

CHAPTER 20

LONDON

JULY 1939

The perfect weather for Sophia and David’s weekend wedding in Surrey appeared to have been ordered along with the crisp linen invitations and champagne. Sophia had left for the country the week before, and Graham was in France until late Friday; he would barely make it in time for supper. Even Precious had been delayed in London by a late showing and wouldn’t be arriving until the following morning, leaving Eva to take the train to Surrey alone. Thankfully, a car was waiting for her to take her to Hovenden Hall when she arrived.

Sophia greeted her on the front steps, and Eva did her best to express nonchalance at the opulent surroundings of the manor house. She’d seen the bored expression on Sophia’s friends’ faces and had no problem imitating it and playing the part of a woman to the manner born. But to herself, she was gape-mouthed and wide-eyed, struggling to imagine growing up in such a place and calling it home.

“You’re positively glowing,” Eva told her friend. “Shall I call the vicar and tell him no candles or electric lights will be needed in tomorrow’s ceremony?”

Sophia laughed. “You are too kind, Eva. I’ve given you and Precious the best guest room, and your frocks have been pressed and hung inside the wardrobe. Mother said you wouldn’t need a maid, since there are two of you and each can help the other, but I will lend you my Lucy if you do.”

“I’m sure we’ll be fine,” Eva said, her nerves jumping at the mere mention of Mrs. St. John. She wished desperately that Precious was with her.

A footman carried Eva’s valise upstairs—the respectable leather monogrammed valise that Madame Lushtak gave to all of her models after three months’ service—while Sophia tucked her hand into Eva’s elbow, leading her toward the grand staircase. “Mother is receiving guests in the drawing room. Why don’t I bring you to your room, where you can freshen up, and then I’ll introduce you?”

“Of course,” Eva said, nodding as if she were looking forward to meeting Graham’s mother. They began to ascend the stairs. “Does she remember me from Lushtak’s?”

“She didn’t recognize the name, but she might recognize your face. It’s not forgettable, is it? Although I daresay Mother might not have noticed. She was more focused on the clothes.”

“So who does she think I am?”

They paused on the landing, and Sophia turned to face her friend. “I didn’t want anything to upset her, not with Father still being so very ill and all her responsibilities for her only daughter’s wedding.” She paused. “I hope you don’t mind too terribly, but she believes you and Precious are school friends of David’s sister, Violet—my third bridesmaid. Happily, Violet is always up for a laugh and thinks the subterfuge is