by Brown, T. J.
He finally turned to her, and warning bells went off in her head, but she couldn’t move, couldn’t break the spell that his burning blue eyes seemed to cast over her.
She swallowed, knowing that he was going to kiss her. He had kissed her once before, but it hadn’t meant anything then. But this was different. This meant something. This was going to count. She knew it in the way he bent his head purposefully toward her and the way her toes curled. She cursed herself for a weak fool as she tilted her head back to meet his mouth, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself.
And then they were kissing, his lips moving against hers. When his arms slipped around her and pulled her close, she didn’t resist. Instead, her arms snaked up around his neck and she let herself be completely filled with Kit, and it felt so incredibly right.
One of his hands tangled itself in her hair. The pins she had so haphazardly stuck in fell completely out, and the mass fell down her back. He broke off their kiss, gasping, and then, pulling her off her feet, held her close and buried his face in her neck.
“Victoria,” he murmured against her hair. “My wonderful, maddening little minx. I love you so. Please tell me you love me. Please say you’ll marry me.”
A tremor ran through her body, the mention of marriage shocking her out of her enchantment. How could she have let things go so far, especially on the eve of his departure?
She pulled out of his arms and took a deep breath. Twisting her hair back with one hand, she looked around wildly for her hairpins. Why was it so dark? What utter folly!
“Oh, Kit. Why do you have to keep bringing that up? Just like a scratched record on a gramophone.” She cried out, frustrated and utterly confused, her head spinning, “Where are my damned hairpins?” She flicked on a lamp.
“I take that as a no.” His voice was cold.
She blinked at the sudden light and winced at the stark expression on his face. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, and the eyes that had burned so warmly just minutes before now regarded her icily. She wanted to put up a hand to block the chill that came from them.
“Of course it’s a no! It’s always been a no. I don’t want to get married. Why do you think anything’s changed? You’re the one who wants to tie me to you like some sort of a pack animal! And now . . . now you’re leaving, and you’re taking advantage of my . . . my . . .” She stopped. He was taking advantage of her melting heart, her confused mixture of anger, sadness, and deep affection. But how could she put into words what she could barely understand herself?
He reached out to grab her arms—then lowered his hands. “You’re right. You haven’t changed a bit. You’re just as contrary and immature as you have always been.”
“I’m contrary? I’m contrary?” She was practically screaming now, but she didn’t care. She felt as if she was on the verge of tears, her frustration and confusion pushing her to her breaking point. “What lunacy! You’re the one who keeps asking me to marrying you in spite of how many times I repeat the word no. Why can’t you just let us continue to be friends? Why do you have to spoil everything by bringing marriage into every conversation?” And by kissing me like that, she wanted to scream, but stopped short.
Kit stared down at her, and pain flashed across his face before it was replaced with a look so emotionless, she shivered and turned away from him. He turned and picked up his coat, which he had flung over the back of a chair.
“You needn’t be worried, Victoria. I won’t bother you by asking again.” He put on his coat and walked out the sitting-room door.
She hurried to the doorway after him as he walked down the hall, still scrambling for something to say. She wanted him to stay; he couldn’t leave like this. “Kit!”
But he didn’t even pause, his shiny army boots keeping to their measured time.
“Kit!” she called again, fear churning in her stomach.
“Good-bye, Victoria.” The door opened and shut and Kit was gone.
How dare he just leave?
She whirled around and ran back into the sitting room. Rushing to the window, she saw Kit’s dark form walk into the night until he was lost in the shadows. The desolation she felt in her heart knocked the breath out of her lungs. Suddenly, in that moment, she understood the enormity of her mistake. The failing of her stubborn pride. She’d grown so used to their comfortable dynamic—his unconditional love for her and her playful refusal of him—that she couldn’t see how much she’d been hurting him. And she hadn’t left any room for her own feelings to truly come through.
But he was gone and this time he wouldn’t be coming back. The reality that she might never see him again suddenly hit her like a brick wall. He was heading off to war, and this was how she chose to leave things between them? With so much left unsaid?
As the truth settled into her heart, she wanted to scream.
She loved him.
She loved him with every fiber of her being and in her childish stubbornness had failed to distinguish between what her head and her heart had been telling her. Sinking down in front of the embers of a dying fire, Victoria covered her face with her hands and wept.
chapter
nine
Prudence resisted the urge to hurry up the steps to Victoria’s flat and instead took them one slow step at a time. She wasn’t that big, really, but her balance was off and she felt as if she could topple over at any moment. Part of it had to do with the light corset she still wore so that her clothing would fit. Katie’s mother, Muriel, had tried to show Prudence how to let the waists of her dresses out, but had given up in despair and told her she would do it for her. Until they were done, Prudence had to wear the corset even though putting it on was like torture and she apologized to baby Horace every time she did it.
She didn’t even know why she had come to visit Victoria so late at night and without sending round a note to make sure her friend would be here. She had been trying her hand at a simple pud when she suddenly had a feeling that Victoria needed her. She’d had that same feeling on another occasion when they were growing up together, and Victoria had suddenly collapsed from a breathing episode, but it had been years since Prudence had felt the urge that now compelled her to go to her sister’s side. Victoria was in much better health these days; Prudence didn’t know what it could be.
Finally reaching the landing, she knocked on the door, hoping her instincts were wrong and Victoria was just fine. That hope was shattered when an old woman, whom she didn’t know, opened the door.
Prudence frowned. “Is Victoria here?”
The old woman peered at her. “Rowena? Oh. No. I can see it’s not. You must be Prudence.”
Prudence nodded, her cheeks heating. Something about how the woman spoke let her know that she knew all about Prudence’s illegitimate heritage and, what’s more, didn’t much care.
“Come in, child. She is resting in her room.”
“What’s wrong?” Prudence asked, alarmed. “Is she sick?”
“Sick in the heart, which has affected her body, more’s the pity.”
Susie appeared and gave Prudence a hug. “I’m so glad you’re here,” Susie whispered, taking Prudence’s coat. “The timing of your visit couldn’t be better.” Her thin features were pinched with worry, and Prudence felt a stab of fear.
She hurried back to Victoria’s room. Eleanor was standing next to Victoria’s bed, wiping her brow with a damp cloth. Prudence set her purse down on a small side table and hurried to her friend’s side.
Victoria’s eyes were closed and fine tracings of blue veins stood out starkly against the pale skin of her temples. “What’s wrong?” Prudence whispered to Eleanor.
Eleanor nodded her head toward the open door, and Prudence followed her. Eleanor turned. “I think she caught something at the hospital, but there is something else going on as well. I ask her what it is and she just turns her head away. She won’t talk about it with either me or Nanny Iris. I’m terribly worried about how thin she’s becoming.”
So that was Nanny Iris
. As Victoria’s friend and confidante, she would know all about Prudence’s past. Prudence put that thought aside. She had other things to worry about right now. “That’s been her pattern. She’s so slender that any kind of sickness pushes her over the edge into emaciation. How long has she been like this?”
“About three days. The doctor has been to see her but says she just needs rest. She has had a fever on and off, but nothing too dangerous.”
“And you didn’t call for me?”
Eleanor shook her head. “She didn’t want to tell you or Rowena.”
“Her and her secrets.” Prudence shook her head and opened the door. “Well, let me talk to her. I’ll see what I can do.”
Her heart constricted as she looked down at Victoria’s wan features. Carefully, Prudence sat and took up her friend’s hand. It was hot and dry and impossibly small.
Victoria’s eyes fluttered open, but it took a moment for her to focus on Prudence’s face. When she did, she smiled. “They sent for you even though I told them not to.”
Prudence shook her head. “No. I came on my own. I knew something was wrong.”
Victoria’s hand gave Prudence’s a feeble squeeze. “You always did know when I needed you.”
“They tell me you’re sick and won’t get out of bed, but that isn’t like the Victoria I know and love.” Prudence kept her voice light, trying not to let Vic see her anxiety. She looked so small lying there in the big bed, the fine linen sheets and lace coverlet covering a body that was more like a child’s than a grown woman’s.
“The Victoria you know and love wouldn’t ever be as stupid as I have been.”
Prudence spied the trembling of the girl’s lips and prayed that Victoria was ready to share whatever was keeping her from fighting her illness. Prudence bent and kissed the girl’s cheek. “Tell sister all about it, my darling. You’ll feel ever so much better.”
Tears streaming down her cheeks, Victoria did exactly that.
“He didn’t even look back as he left,” she whimpered when she reached the end of her tale.
“And you haven’t seen him since?” Prudence asked gently. She’d met Kit before, of course, but couldn’t equate the narcissistic, cultured, and rather blasé young man she’d met with the passion Vic was describing.
Victoria shook her head. “I don’t even know where he went, where he’s stationed. He wouldn’t say.”
Spent, Victoria laid her head back while Prudence watched. She’d never seen her little sister like this. Prudence couldn’t judge just how worried she should be.
“Write him a letter,” she told Victoria. “Write him and tell him how you feel.”
“I can’t! He won’t listen, not after the way I treated him . . . and I don’t even know where to send it.”
Prudence stood up. “He may not listen, but at least you will have tried. Since when have you ever not at least tried to get what you wanted? This way you at least have a chance to make things right. Why risk losing such an important friendship”—she hesitated, wondering if she should go on, then added cautiously—“or such a great love over this?”
Victoria sniffled. “Do you think I might still have a chance?”
Prudence’s heart ached at the thread of hope she heard in Victoria’s voice. “He asked you to marry him. He says he loves you. If he truly loves you, he won’t let an argument stop him from being with you. And if he does, then he isn’t worth it after all.”
Victoria sat up, and Prudence plumped up the pillows to support her back. “You don’t know Kit,” Victoria said, sounding a bit stronger. “He can be prideful. Stubborn. And I know I hurt him badly this time. Perhaps even more than . . . more than I hurt myself.”
* * *
“See you when you get back!” Albert yelled over the engine of the latest French SPAD aeroplane Rowena sat in. The French had let the English “borrow” the fighter in an attempt to build parts for it. Mr. Dirkes had his engineers pore over it for several days before sending it back to Hastings and then home. Though she’d made several runs for Mr. Dirkes, she had never flown a fighter, and the new SPAD, with its long, tapered fuselage and streamlined nacelle mounted in front of the engine and the propeller, was one of the best. As excited as Rowena was to fly a new aeroplane, the thought of the machine gun inside the nacelle churned her stomach.
Once she got the go-ahead from Albert, she eased the throttle forward and made a smooth takeoff. She checked her instruments, which were far more advanced than in the Flying Alices, an aeroplane only used for training now because they were almost obsolete. Practically every time she climbed into the cockpit of a new aeroplane since the war broke out, something had been added, changed, or improved. The added center struts in this aircraft gave it a concrete feel, and she played with the pedals to see if it would flex in the wind. Nothing. Solid as a rock. After checking her flight log and compass, she turned toward Hastings and enjoyed the smooth ride.
Flying for Mr. Dirkes made it a joy to get up each morning. Rowena felt she was finally doing something that had meaning and purpose. Her uncle had surprisingly been on her side . . . though the conversation with her aunt hadn’t gone so well.
“So now I not only have to worry about my son dying in a ditch somewhere, but also about my niece flying into a mountain. How simply wonderful for me,” Aunt Charlotte had said.
“I’m not going to crash into a mountain, Aunt Charlotte. I am far too skilled a pilot for that,” Rowena had answered.
Aunt Charlotte had snorted. “And we can add that to the list of sentences I never thought to come out of your mouth, my dear.”
Sometimes Rowena wondered if Aunt Charlotte meant to be funny or if it was simply her bitterness.
Rowena’s case was bigger than usual because she would be staying overnight in Hastings. Sebastian was to meet her this evening, and they were going to spend the next day in Brighton. It would be different off-season, of course, but she would get to see him. At least that was the plan. As with anything, plans were subject to military discretion. Rowena had been incredibly lucky with the aeroplanes and had never had a moment’s trouble with them, though seasoned pilots warned her that it was only a matter of time.
But not today, she exulted, climbing above the cloud cover. Not today. And this evening she would see Sebastian, a thought that buoyed her spirits almost as much as the flight itself.
She recalled the last letter she had received from him, a letter filled with words that had touched her and opened her heart to the possibility that her friendship with Sebastian was blossoming into something more meaningful. He had written:
My dear Rowena,
Of course, my brilliant, brave girl would be flying aero-planes all over England for the military. I would expect nothing less. Please be careful, always remembering how many people love you, myself included. Our future children also wish you to take care. . . .
Myself included . . .
The thought of Sebastian’s loving her warmed her chest, and for the first time, she felt that she could love him back. It might not be the same wild, passionate love that she’d felt for Jon, but it would be based on far more than a love of flight and physical attraction.
As always, the time passed swiftly and before long she was winding downward to make a landing. She had never been to Hastings before and hoped it was a good field.
It wasn’t. She made a smooth landing, but immediately after her wheels touched down, the aeroplane veered to the left and her shoulder was slammed into the edge of the cockpit. The machine jerked to an inelegant stop, and her neck snapped forward painfully.
The aeroplane shuddered. “Blast!” she cried once the engine stilled. Not waiting for the men she saw running toward her, she undid her harness and carefully stepped out onto the wing before leaping to the ground. Please don’t let anything be broken, she prayed, taking careful inventory.
One of the two men reached her. “Don’t you know the hangar is over there?” He spotted her face and his mouth flew open.
“What the hell were you thinking?” the other yelled from behind her.
The voice broke over her like the swell of a tsunami and she turned as her pulse pounded in her ears.
Jon.
He saw her then and skidded to a stop, shock registering on his features before his face shuttered, becoming impassive.
Rowena froze. She couldn’t think. Couldn’t function. She knew she should be explaining herself, but her lips felt curiously numb.
“What is a damn woman doing piloting a plane?”
“Shut up, Parker,” Jon finally said. “What happened?” he asked, avoiding her eyes.
Trembling inside, she nodded toward a sinkhole in the field about the size of one of her wheels. “I hit that when I landed.” She gestured toward the hole. “The aeroplane leapt out of control.”
Jon and Parker walked over to the hole. “Looks like a giant gopher dug this one, Wells.”
Jon nodded. “Let’s get someone out here to fill it up, eh?” He turned to Rowena. His eyes flickered ever so slightly as they grazed over her. No one except Rowena would be able to tell that her presence had shaken him to his core.
Good.
The last time she had seen him, he’d been walking away from her. Let him see and remember what he’d walked away from.
“Did Dirkes send you?”
She nodded. “I’m ferrying aeroplanes for him because there aren’t enough pilots available.”
He nodded. “I figured it was something like that. Do you have a bag?”
Rowena nodded, and he leapt easily onto the wing and fished out her leatherbound flight log and satchel. He jumped back down, handed her the book, and started across the field toward the hangar and outbuildings of the base.
She followed with a worried glance back toward the plane.
Jon must have caught her concern. “Don’t worry about it. If there’s anything wrong with it, we’ll fix it. The French are too busy to quibble much anyway.”
“There won’t be any.” She peeped sideways at him as they walked. His profile was the same. Strong jaw and nose, same thin, perfectly formed mouth. She shivered, remembering how many times that mouth had been on hers. His shaggy, strawberry-blond hair had been trimmed short, and he wore his well-made uniform with ease. She swallowed; the sight of him still took her breath away. It also ushered in a rush of feelings more confusing than the images in a kaleidoscope. Carrying her bag, he marched furiously across the field as if he couldn’t wait to deposit her at headquarters.