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

door of the car. “Yes, I’m very lucky that Precious found me. For many reasons. There I was, standing on the train platform, having no idea what I should do next. I hadn’t thought any further than getting to London. And there was Precious, asking if I needed a roommate. I wouldn’t even have my job if she hadn’t introduced me to Madame Lushtak.” She gave her friend a warm smile. “She’s been a good friend to me.”

“I think I was the lucky one,” Precious gushed. “Eva has taught me so much.”

“Really?” Alex asked, his eyebrow raised. “How so?”

“Well, how to act and how to talk, for starters. I was just a country girl from Tennessee, so I stuck out like a sore thumb. Eva polished me up like a new penny.”

“How interesting that someone from Devon would know so much about polish.”

Eva glanced over at the couple on the opposite side of the car. Sophia was staring out the window, lost in her own world, but David appeared to be listening intently.

“Have you been to Café de Paris?” David asked, and Eva felt her shoulders relax with relief at being removed from the center of attention.

“Not yet,” Precious gushed. “But I’ve heard so much about it. All the models at Lushtak’s are perfectly envious of us. Anyone can go, of course, but Sophia said we’ll be sitting at one of the best tables, near the band. Freya said we might be seated next to a Mountbatten or Cole Porter. Maybe even the Aga Khan! If we are, I won’t be able to dance a lick. I’ll be too frozen to move, but it will still be exciting.”

Alex laughed. “It is said that at the Café de Paris, all the men are extraordinarily handsome and the young women so very beautiful. At least part of that statement is true, judging from this very car.”

Precious blushed prettily, then turned her attention out the window. “There’s a line of cars—and photographers on the sidewalk.” She looked excitedly at Alex. “Do you think we might be in the papers? My daddy and sister would be over the moon if I sent them a picture of me with this fancy car.”

“Would they?” Alex asked, his smile brightening. “How utterly charming.”

Precious didn’t seem to hear, transfixed by the throngs of people waiting to get into the famous subterranean dance club and by the lights flashing from cameras as their driver pulled up to the curb. The door opened, and Alex stepped out, offering his hand to Precious. “May I?”

She eagerly accepted his hand, then carefully stepped from the car. Cameras flashed as photographers crowded the curb, capturing the occupants inside the cars and then on the pavement. Alex offered his hand to Eva, too, and after a brief hesitation, she allowed him to help her out. He held her tightly, even when she attempted to pull away. Aware of the photographers, she remained smiling. “What game do you think you’re playing?”

His smile never wavered. “I don’t play games, Eva. You’d do best to remember that.” He let go of her hand, leaving her stranded in the crowd as he lifted his elbow to escort Precious inside.

Eva kept her shoulders back and pasted on her smile—the one she’d learned to wear during fashion showings, the one meant to convey sophistication and a knowledge of unmentionable things—as she waited for David to escort her and Sophia through the throngs of onlookers and into the dark and smoky club. The percussive blast of brass instruments led them down one of the two wings of red-carpeted curved stairs that wrapped the stage. Tables circled the perimeter of the room and the dance floor, almost all occupied by men in dinner jackets and well-clad women wearing dark lipstick. It was a kaleidoscope of color and sound, reminding Eva of a county fair she’d once been to. Except here she was inside the fence instead of pressing her face against it.

Wearing a white dinner jacket that emphasized his dark skin, the famous bandleader Ken “Snakehips” Johnson snapped his fingers in rhythm to Benny Goodman’s “Let’s Dance.” The band behind him swayed in time to the music, their brass instruments catching the light, shining as if they’d caught fire.

Eva felt everyone looking at them and focused on staring ahead, chin forward, pretending it was just another show. Except her fingers felt clammy, her stomach unsettled. They were escorted to an empty table right in front of the dance floor, and it wasn’t until she was seated that she began to search for Graham, feeling a desperate need to hear his voice, to touch him. To see the light in his eyes and the quirk of his smile when he looked at her.

She turned to place her purse on the chair next to her, to hold the seat for him, but Alex was already pulling it out for himself, having seated Precious on his other side.

“Hello, beautiful.” Graham’s voice came from behind her, and she felt his warm lips on her cheek. She looked up at him, not caring if he saw the relief or the hundreds of emotions she was feeling.

“I thought you’d never get here,” he said. He greeted their friends, even giving Alex a pat on the back. “But I’m very glad you did. It’s a mad crush but always good fun.” He waved at a passing waiter. “A bottle of champagne, please—it’s a night to celebrate.”

The waiter nodded. Graham took a seat across the table from Eva, allowing his fingers to brush the nape of her neck as he left. A delicious shudder ran through her, ruined only by Alex’s mocking eyebrow.

“What are we celebrating?” Precious asked, hardly able to keep her focus on one place, scrutinizing the nearby tables for anyone famous.

Graham’s face sobered as he considered David. “Have I overstepped?”

David shook his head, then reached over to take Sophia’s hand. “Not at all, my good fellow. I’d meant to tell everyone earlier, but”—he looked gently at his