“How long have you known my sister?” he asked.
“Since we were twelve. Our mothers have known each other for years. But you don’t want to talk about them, do you?”
“Fair enough. What shall we talk about?”
“Well, I’m very curious about something. You must know dozens of girls who would love to go with you to the Savoy. Why did you choose me?”
He stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, grinning as he gazed down at her. “To tell you the truth it was because of your freckles.”
“Oh no!” Her hand flew to her face as if she might feel them sticking out. “Do they show? Do I need to powder my nose again?”
“Please don’t,” he said with a laugh. “I noticed your wonderful freckles the day we met on my doorstep. They reminded me of cinnamon on warm, buttered toast and made you seem very . . . unique.”
Eve remembered now. It had been a school day, but classes were canceled because of the king’s death. She never wore cosmetics to school—they were too dear to waste.
“And you weren’t wearing a ridiculous feathered hat like all the other women do,” he continued. “Some hats look as though a bird has perched on the foolish woman’s head.”
Eve laughed at the picture he drew. She didn’t tell him she couldn’t afford a fancy hat on her typist’s salary. “Somewhere in the world are flocks and flocks of featherless peacocks and pheasants,” she said, “shivering in the cold.”
“Yes, poor things. I must say the feathers look much better on their original owners.” They started walking again. “I also recall that your hair was blowing free and natural, like it is today, not all kinked up into those silly waves that are all the rage. I knew then and there that I wanted to get to know you.”
Eve didn’t know how to reply. Should she explain that she couldn’t afford a curling iron or a fancy lady’s maid to arrange her hair? Before she could say anything, Alfie slowed to a halt. “Here’s the tea shop.” He opened the door to a warm, cozy shop with wooden floors that creaked beneath their feet and a scattering of mismatched tables and chairs. The tantalizing aromas of coffee and chocolate filled the air. Alfie chose an empty table near the window and they sat across from each other at a table so tiny their knees touched. Could he feel hers trembling? He was miles above Eve in all the important ways—wealth, social standing, intelligence—and yet he said such lovely, charming things. Would everything change once she told him the truth about herself?
Eve held on tightly to the thread of conversation as Alfie ordered tea for her, coffee for himself, and scones with jam for both of them. “I daresay not all men would share their opinions on women’s fashions so freely,” she said after the waiter left.
“I usually don’t. But I already feel as though I can speak my mind with you. You’re different. Not at all like Audrey’s other friends.”
“How so?” Her pulse quickened. Could he tell she was a common working girl?
“I can’t imagine any of Audrey’s friends suggesting tea and a Sunday stroll. They’re more likely to suggest champagne and a ride in my automobile.”
“I grew up in the countryside. A walk in the park is the closest thing there is in London to remind me of home.” Eve would stick as close to the truth as possible as they got acquainted without revealing that she’d once been the scullery maid at Wellingford Hall.
“So do you live in London now?” he asked.
“Yes. I finished school last June and I’ve been living here ever since.” She chose the word finished as a subtle reference to finishing school. Let him think what he wanted, for now. It was time to steer the focus away from herself and ask a few questions of her own. “Audrey tells me you’re at Oxford. What are you studying there?”
He made a face. “Boring things. I’m convinced that universities were invented by fathers to keep their sons out of their hair until they’re ready to hand over their businesses to them.”
“Is that what you’ll do someday? Work in your father’s business?”
“That’s his plan. But I’m not ready to settle down yet. I’m having too much fun to spoil it all by going to work every day.”
Eve smiled as if she knew exactly what he meant. But she couldn’t imagine a life where she didn’t have to work every day—if not as a servant or a typist, then running a home as a wife and mother. She decided to change the subject, consulting the mental list of topics she had prepared ahead of time. “I would love to know what you think of King Edward’s affair with Wallis Simpson. Do you think he’ll marry her?”
Alfie’s smile vanished. He looked as solemn and serious as Audrey. “The king will create a constitutional crisis throughout the commonwealth if he does marry her. He is the Supreme Governor of the Church of England. A twice-divorced woman like Wallis Simpson is morally unsuitable to be the wife of a monarch—not to mention the mother of his heir. He’s a fool to allow her to control him the way she does. He needs to be rid of her once and for all and get on with the business of ruling Britain.”
“Does it also matter that she’s a commoner, with no royal blood?”
“Absolutely. But that’s the least of her many faults.”
Their food arrived, interrupting them as the waiter arranged cups and plates and cutlery on the tiny table. Eve took a bite of her currant-studded scone and decided it was the best she’d ever tasted. Alfie’s vehemence on the subject left her with few illusions that he would make the same foolish mistake and marry someone from a different class. She faced a choice. She could end this flirtation now before she fell hopelessly in love with him and had her heart broken when he tossed her aside. Or she could go along for the ride for as long as it lasted, enjoying posh dinners at the Savoy, hoping that maybe, just maybe, Alfie would fall in love with her. After all, Alfie’s father wasn’t an aristocrat.
“What do you think of this mess the king’s gotten himself into?” Alfie asked, breaking into her thoughts.
“If he marries her, he will shatter all the rules. Anyone could marry a prince.”
“Exactly! It will be the end of order and tradition in this nation.” He had misunderstood her. It was just as well.
“I want to know what Wallis Simpson’s secret is,” Eve said. “She charmed two husbands into marrying her, and now she has bewitched the king of England. Do you think she’s beautiful?”
“Not at all. Especially compared to you.” His smile returned. He reached across the table to rest his hand on top of hers.
Eve laughed. “Flatterer!” She enjoyed the warmth of his palm and was pleased when he let it linger there.
“I wouldn’t give up my place at the table for Wallis Simpson, let alone my crown,” he added.
“Some say King Edward might abdicate.”
“If he thinks so little of his duty and his heritage as the Sovereign King of Great Britain, then he should abdicate. I say, good riddance.”
“I like a man who gives an honest answer.”
They talked of lesser things as they finished their food, then left the shop to stroll through St. James’s Park. The afternoon turned cold as the wind blew off the Thames River, and Eve shivered in her roommate’s coat. “I should go,” she said when she had exhausted her entire list of topics for conversation. “Thank you for tea and the delightful afternoon.”