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.She was acutely aware of a woman on the other side of the room laughing, surrounded by three admiring men, punctuated by the black piano player, Charlie Miles, whom she’d known since she was a child, crooning a song about love.It wasn’t like Philip to be late.She felt strangely unguarded as though a layer had been stripped away and one look at her face would reveal the anxiousness she felt.She forced a smile and walked over to the piano.She set her champagne glass down on the top of the piano, and Charlie broke into an instrumental and began to speak to her about the other people in the room, specifically a couple dancing on the dance floor.“He thinks she’s in love with him,” Charlie said to her under his breath, “but if you could have seen her last night with Freddy Bagley…”“Yes,” Rosemary laughed, “but she has no reputation to protect.” He still hadn’t arrived.Should she take a seat at a table and order herself dinner and pretend that he’d told her he was going to be delayed? She took a sip of champagne and started to feel a little less at sea.And then a man’s hand was on her back.“I’m sorry I’m so late.” It was Philip.“I got your hats.I was”—he hesitated, “at the War Office…” Rosemary looked at him questioningly.“At least I haven’t missed dinner,” he said.“And you, I trust”—he looked gratefully at Charlie Miles—“have been well entertained.” He put his arm casually on her shoulder.Did she expect him to remark on her dress or the line of kohl under her eyes that made her eyelashes look longer than usual? Did she expect him to be knocked out by her when he walked into the room.Am I pretty, Philip?It was a few days later that Rosemary was sitting at her desk opening her mail with the silver letter opener that she’d purchased from Mr.Rhenquist.Philip was lying on his back on the couch with his feet up on the arm of the sofa.“I should go to the Foundling Hospital’s annual tea,” she said opening yet another invitation.“Will you go with me?”“Oh, Rose, do I have to?”She didn’t answer him because she had immediately opened another letter and was distracted by its contents.A sort of florid card, one you would buy at a dimestore, not the usual engraved stationery.She opened the card which had a note written on it and some money stuffed inside it.“I hate it when you don’t answer me,” he said.“Is this what I have to look forward to—years and years as a neglected…husband?”Rosemary interrupted him.“Philip, she’s sent me back my money.”He knew instantly who she meant.“I never expected her to repay me,” Rosemary said.“Do you remember that girl I picked up?”“Who?” he said, appearing to still be distracted.“You know.Miss Smith.The one I picked up that day in the rain and brought home for tea.Do you think maybe I helped her?” Rosemary looked very pleased with herself.On the couch, Philip has shut his eyes.The shops were closing for the night.The streets were crowded with taxis, carriages, people on their way home on foot or running to catch the streetcar, women with children hanging on their skirts making hurried stops in food-stores and the apothecary shop on the corner which closed conveniently a half-hour after everyone else.The street lamps were just coming on as Eleanor came out of the hat shop and found Philip’s carriage parked on the corner.He’d let his driver go and was holding the reins of the two chestnut mares himself, a driver’s cap pulled down over his forehead.Despite it, she recognized him at once.He’d rolled the window down as if he were waiting for her.“Did we have an appointment?” she asked him.“No,” he said, “I wanted to see you.” He smiled at her and she remembered again how charming he was but it didn’t deter her.“Oh.And I’m here whenever you want to see me.In between the other things?” She started to walk away from him down the crowded street.Did he think she was going to be easy? No, if he’d thought that, he wouldn’t have been interested in her.He started to follow her in the carriage.“You’re making a scene,” he said, casually, as if he were amused by her.“I’m making a scene?”He smiled again.“Don’t you care?” she asked him, surprised that he would take a chance like this.“I just thought we could have dinner,” he said as politely as he could.“Actually have dinner.I actually have other plans.”“Another time, then,” he said.He closed the window and the carriage took off down the street.And then as abruptly as this began, it ended.It wasn’t clear who’d won this exchange.He didn’t feel like going to his club where there would certainly be talk of war.He directed his driver instead to take him to Jane Howard’s.Jane Howard and Philip Alsop had been friends since they were children, since before Philip’s father died [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]