When I closed my eyes—something that had been done rather infrequently in the last three days—I no longer saw Kit’s face. It wasn’t that I had erased him from my memories. It was more like I’d moved a favored childhood doll to a high shelf in my closet; protected and cherished, but no longer a part of my life. Kit had been my first love, the object of my childhood crush that hadn’t changed despite the years. It should have, I realized now. It might have saved us both a lot of heartache.
Drew sighed in his sleep, and I felt the ripple of his breath on the back of my neck like a blessing. Kit would have understood. He had loved me, in a way, and would not have begrudged my happiness.
And oh, what happiness I’d found. Quite unexpected, but there it was, lying in the bed next to me. Drew was so very different from Kit—much broader, more muscular. So American. So unhaunted. Drew slept the sleep of contentment, as if nightmares didn’t exist. He never screamed a remembered torture or called out another woman’s name. Perhaps it was those differences that had made my coming to terms with Kit’s memory easier for me. And so very pleasurable.
“Is there a cat in the room, or is that you purring?” Drew’s sleepy voice made dormant parts of my body stir.
“I beg your pardon?”
“You made that noise again. The noise you make in the back of your throat when you’re thinking. It sounds like a very happy cat.”
I turned in his arms and looked into his eyes. They were green today, not hazel—definitely green. “No cat. Just a very happy, happy woman.”
“That makes two of us.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“Well, happy man, I meant. You’re an amazing woman, Babs Langford. I’m so glad you found me.”
“Wasn’t it the other way around?”
“I don’t think so.” He drew back, a questioning look on his face. “Is this our first argument?”
I pretended to think. “It might just be.”
He grinned. “I guess that means we need to have makeup sex to smooth over any hurt feelings.” And we proceeded to do just that.
A knock on the door announced room service bringing us another meal. After the second day, I’d ceased to put the bedclothes over my head, having been reassured by Drew that the discreet staff at the Ritz had seen far worse than two people sharing a bed.
The waiter kept a neutral smile on his face as he set out a brunch that seemed more like a holiday feast. It would take some getting used to Drew’s voracious appetite, although, owing to our recent physical exertions, I’d discovered a new appetite all of my own. After the waiter left, Drew retrieved our bathrobes from the floor, where they’d been hastily discarded the night before, and we sat at the two chairs pulled out at the table by the window.
Drew filled two flutes from the pitcher of mimosas and handed one to me. “To another beautiful day,” he said as a toast. I lifted my glass, then cast my gaze outside, where a heavy spring downpour was currently bashing itself against the window.
My smile faded a little. “It reminds me of England.”
“Do you miss it?” he asked, tucking into a heaping plate of scrambled eggs and sausage.
“Yes, a little. I’ve never lived anywhere else. It’s home. Even with the fickle weather, I do love it. My heart aches a bit when I think about it—which is silly, I know. Paris is rather nice. But there’s something rather perfect about the sky after an English country rainstorm, when the sun has a milky glow and paints the pastures with pale yellow. One can see it best from the top floor gallery at Langford Hall. After we were married, I had a window seat built there. Kit and I would sometimes sit with our tea and wait for the rain to stop.”
Drew was looking at me with such sympathy and understanding that I had to look away. I felt very close to tears and quickly swallowed them. Brightening, I asked, “What about you? Have you ever lived outside of New York City?”
“I was born and raised there, and have lived there ever since—except for six years in Boston.” He watched me fix my tea, his eyes thoughtful. “Have you ever wanted to live outside of England?”
“I never really thought about it. I had a lovely childhood with wonderful parents, boisterous brothers and an older sister. And dogs. We always had dogs.”
“So you love dogs.”
“I do. A house hardly seems like a home without them. And you?”
He shook his head. “We always lived in the city, and my mother said it wasn’t practical. But I always imagined I’d like to have one. Or three. I was an only child, and I always craved commotion.”
“Well, Langford Hall was next door, so there was always quite a lot of rowdiness when all the boys were home from school. I followed them around like a lost puppy, wanting to be a part of all that. They only tolerated me for the most part. Except for Kit.”
Drew’s green gaze settled on me, waiting for me to continue.
“He was the only one who paid any attention to me, always made sure I didn’t fall too far behind, and helped me down from more than one tree. It’s why I fell in love with him. I suppose it just felt natural for us to marry when he came home from the war.” I stopped there, knowing that I was close to treading into dangerous territory.
“You lived at Langford Hall after you were married?”
“Yes. I’d always loved it. All that history. It was much older than our house—it was completed in 1799. Ours only dated back to Queen Victoria. So many nooks and crannies and things to explore. And in which to hide from my brothers when they’d discovered some horrid spider to put down my back. Kit would always find me first, but he’d never tell on me. He was kind that way.”
Drew took my hand. “My father only had the best things to say about Kit. I wish I could have known him.”
I smiled, trying to imagine them meeting and couldn’t. It was a bit like two different worlds traveling on a perpetual parallel path. “Langford Hall also has the folly where Kit’s father would go write. It could only be reached by a little bridge his father had built because he refused to row across water after surviving the Lusitania. It was so pretty—I used to pretend a fairy prince and princess lived there.” I smiled into my cup, remembering. “There was a small family of beautiful swans that lived on the lake. They were rather wretched creatures, always nipping at one’s fingers when you fed them breadcrumbs. I suppose they hadn’t been taught the old adage about not biting the hand that feeds you.” I spread butter and marmalade on my scone as I remembered the swans and my mother-in-law’s intense dislike of one of the females she named Caroline.
“There had always been swans on the lake, almost as long as there had been whippets at Langford Hall. It’s why the signet ring Kit inherited from his father had the swans engraved on the top. They were the unofficial emblem of the Langfords of Langford Hall. At least until the war.”
“And what happened then?” He’d stopped chewing, anticipating my response.
“We ate them.” I shrugged. “We were hungry, and they were readily available and not rationed. I remember them being quite tasty.”
Drew let out a hearty laugh, and I joined him, although it didn’t eradicate my guilt. It was the reason we hadn’t had them replaced. It was as if we’d betrayed them in some way and didn’t deserve them anymore.