His American Fling

by Brogan, Kim

  Campbell snapped his head in Henry’s direction. He opened his mouth to protest, but realized that if he did, he would be admitting that he had screwed it up. The pause was too long, but Campbell made a good show by sitting up straight and nodding to Henry. “Of course, ask her out. She’s a nice girl. I think you should.”

  Henry looked deep into Campbell’s eyes and almost laughed. He knew his friend was bluffing, but Campbell’s loss was his gain. Henry jumped up. “Well, then, I’m off to conquer the Colonies. Cheerio!” He threw a five pound note on the table and took off out the door.

  Fiona chuckled to herself as she saw how miserable Campbell looked. She whispered at him, “Balls-up Campbell, balls-up.”

  *********************

  Henry smiled at the porter, “I’m here to see Miss Maggie McGee.”

  The porter stood up. “Maggie? Just a moment, I’ll ring her room. Whom may I say is ringing?”

  “Henry Pendleton.”

  The porter stopped short. “Lord Pendleton?”

  Henry nodded, still smiling.

  “Just a moment Lord Pendleton.”

  Maggie was studying in the library when she felt her cell phone vibrate. She looked at the caller I.D. and noted that it said, Downing College. She stepped outside and took the call. Within minutes she was up at the Porter’s cottage.

  “Henry!” She walked up and kissed him on the cheek in front of the porters who were watching the two closely.

  He grinned at her, “Maggie, it’s so good to see that you landed on your feet. I thought I’d stop by and see how you were doing. Is this a bad time?”

  She shook her head. “Come back to my sitting room.”

  Maggie led Henry back to her sitting room and, after he took a seat on the well-worn leather sofa, she offered him tea. Although he’d just had a small pot of tea earlier, he nodded at her polite offer, watching her make the tea, British style, noting that she even warmed the pot. Obviously, Campbell had taught her properly.

  “I just found out that you spent the summer as Campbell’s guest.”

  She snickered and said without judgment, “Nigel.”

  He nodded, “We tend to gossip amongst the landed gentry. Campbell informs me that the two of you are nothing more than friends.”

  “Oh, we’re friends now?”

  Henry winced. “Dear, dear, have I put my foot in it? Well, whatever you are, he said I could ask you out.” He took another sip and put the cup and saucer down. “Maggie, I wanted to ask you out earlier, but I could see there was a spark of something between you and Campbell. Perhaps I was wrong, but I didn’t want to chance that I was interfering with something. It’s been so long since Campbell has shown an interest in the opposite sex. But, now that he’s given me the all clear, I was hoping you would oblige me. Would you like to go out for dinner tomorrow night?”

  Maggie was sad and surprised, sad that she was now free in Campbell’s books to be passed on to his friends, but pleasantly surprised that Henry had asked her out. She put her hand on her chest. “Dinner? With me?”

  He gave her a cheeky grin. “Are you surprised?”

  “A little! Campbell seemed to imply that his friends weren’t fond of Yanks.”

  “I would say that Campbell is the most Xenophobic of our circle of friends. Perhaps he is projecting his own distrust onto the rest of us. I’m rather fond of Americans. They know a lot more about having fun and enjoying life than we do in Britain. I like your spirit and enthusiasm. It seems as if Americans never do anything half-hearted, do you?”

  She smiled broadly. “Well then. I’d be happy to accept your invitation.”

  Henry stood up. “Brill. About sevenish?”

  Maggie laughed and shook her head in mock despair. “What does sevenish mean? I’m American. We believe in punctuality.”

  “Oh dear.” Henry smiled again, running his hand through his hair. “I am afraid that I’m known for not having a very good chronometer. I’m usually a few minutes late, but then again, I have been early.”

  Maggie held up her hand. “It’s okay. I’ll just make sure I have something to do while I wait.”

  Henry stood up and made his way to the door. Maggie watched him move gracefully across the room, like Campbell did. She wondered if the male peers in England took ballet or deportment or something like that. Henry’s sandy blonde hair made him look like a shorter Peter O’Toole, “Smashing. Well, Mags, cheerio. See you tomorrow night.”

  Maggie stood staring at the door in shock. She finally realized that she didn’t know how to dress for tomorrow night. Running to the windows, she threw up the sash. “Henry! Henry!”

  He stopped and ran back to the window, his hair flying in the breeze. “Yes?”

  “What should I wear?”

  He thought for a few seconds. “I think I’ll take you to the Cambridge Inn. It’s a nice restaurant. But, if you went stark naked I wouldn’t care!”

  She laughed. “I bet you wouldn’t.”

  He turned and jaunted off while Maggie watched and laughed, hardly able to contain her enthusiasm. It would be fun to go out with Henry; he had a wicked sense of humor. Maggie ran back to her closet to see if there was anything appropriate to wear. She pushed the hangers around and decided that the red BCBG wrap dress she had purchased at a consignment shop for $35.00 would be her best bet.

  Spending the rest of the day studying, she knew it was a half-hearted exercise in futility. Her mind kept bouncing back and forth between the anticipation of the date and the sadness over Campbell’s public acknowledgment that it was over between them. She tried not to think about Campbell, it hurt too much.

  *********************

  The next night, Maggie took out the BCBG wrap dress; put it on and realized that it had a rather revealing décolletage. Wondering if she would be suggesting too much if she wore it, Maggie had to admit it looked hot on her. She piled her blonde shoulder-length hair on her head, put on eye makeup and deep red lipstick and then went into her sitting room to wait. She read her International Law text until there was a knock on the door. Standing up, she smoothed out her dress and went to the door, opening it slowly.

  The reaction was better than expected. Henry pulled his head back, gasped and then chuckled. “Cor Blimey! You are smashing.” He put his hand over his mouth as he started to laugh.

  “What’s so funny?”

  He had to compose himself, “I was just thinking of what a tosser Campbell is. You certainly trump the other girls he has dated in the past. Do you have a wrap?”

  I smiled coyly. “I thought you would be.”

  “Oh, good answer, love, good answer.”

  I went to the couch and retrieved my purse and wrap. We strolled to the car park on campus and I immediately walked over to the driver’s side of his Aston Martin, which elicited laughter from Henry. “Mags, unless you want to drive the car, you need to come over here so I can open the passenger door for you.”

  I felt my skin burn bright as I hurried around to the passenger side and slipped into the seat. Henry got in, turned to smile at me and started the car with a wink.

  I cleared my throat and said quietly, “Thank you for not reminding me of my stupidity for picking the wrong side of the car. You know I was looking the wrong way when Campbell hit me. I still have trouble with the whole driving on the right side of the road thing.”

  “Don’t worry; I do the same thing when I pop over to the Colonies.”

  We drove to the Cambridge Inn for dinner. It was not what I expected—a hotel with a nice restaurant. It was a Tudor building with open beams in the ceilings and plaster walls. We were shown into a cozy, intimate room with couches, arm chairs, and a bar. I felt like I had just stepped into every American’s fantasy of what an English living room should look like. Chintz draperies, dark mantled fireplace, open beams, heavy wooden furniture and more chintz upholstery. We ordered a drink and then were brought menus to peruse as we sat on the sofa. I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to do, but I s
aw Henry reviewing the menu as if he was expected to place an order in the next few minutes. I quickly did the same. The menu reminded me of one you would find in a nice steak house back home. I was impressed when a waiter, complete in crisp uniform and white towel over his arm, came up and took our dinner order. Henry ordered the rack of lamb while I ordered the medallions of filet steak. We sat back on the couch, relaxed into the chintz and had a wonderful time talking. The man was deliciously entertaining, funny, and serious all rolled into one. You couldn’t help but like Henry.

  After I gave him a brief history, he shook his head in astonishment. “You have led a very interesting life. I cannot think of anyone in my circle of friends who would go through what you did and then go back to law school at your age.”

  My eyes widened in amazement. “My age? You make me sound hundreds of years old.”

  “Hardly, I don’t think of myself as old and you’re six years younger than I am.” He leaned forward and looked at me. “Maggie, you are delightful. What happened between you and Campbell? I thought if anyone could get him to start living again, it would be you.”

  I took a drink. “It only takes one word to describe what came between Campbell and me—Gemma. He admitted that he just can’t let go yet.” I couldn’t help but shift in my seat, I was trying to sound bright and resolute, but it came out sounding phony, “Does it matter? It wasn’t like we had the china pattern picked out. It was only a month.”

  “That month certainly did him a world of good. There were a lot of comments around the hospital that Campbell wasn’t as glum as usual.” Henry paused and gave me an empathetic smile. “I am sorry. It sounds like you were the casualty in this skirmish.”

  “Did you know that most organs replace their cells constantly?”

  Curious, he hesitated before responding, “Yes, I am a doctor you know.”

  “Well, then you know I’m replacing all those dead heart cells as we speak. My broken heart will soon be repaired.”

  Henry leaned over and kissed me gently on the lips. “I’m awfully glad to hear that.”

  We looked at each other for a few seconds before scurrying back to our respective sides of the sofa.

  I swallowed hard, trying to ask a safe question. “Henry... you, Fiona and Campbell, what was it like growing up together?”

  He snickered, “I haven’t given it any thought. They were just always there along with Peter and Charles. Fiona was the glue. She seemed to guide us seamlessly through adolescence with just enough mischievousness and lunacy that we didn’t get bored.”

  “Is it true that Campbell was Fiona’s first?”

  He clasped his hands to his heart, “Oh, you prick my too soft heart! I was devastated that it wasn’t me she chose. After all, I had several notches on my belt by then and Campbell had one. But it made sense; there’s always been this bond between them, something none of the rest of us had. If they had lived during the Regency they would be married with a pack of little Adairs running around in Saffron Walden.”

  “I don’t understand. Are you saying he’s in love with Fiona?” I was confused by the reference to the Regency.

  “Oh, heavens no, not in that way. During the Regency, the landed gentry married only the landed gentry. It was a time when you were more likely to marry your friend than someone you loved.”

  It made sense. Still I had always picked up a strange feeling when I was around Fiona. I liked her, but I felt as if she was the mother hen, sister, and something more to the group, or at least to Campbell. It was as if Fiona was his substitute for a wife. He relied on her for many things, including being his conscience. It seemed to work out well for all of them. They had a strong bond.

  “I have to ask, are any of you married?”

  “Charles and Peter are. Fiona divorced her husband of five years this spring. I was married in my late twenties. It lasted a whole nine minutes and then I realized I had made an awful mistake. But, we stayed locked in our dance of demeaning warfare for the next four years until she finally had the good sense to run off with the Earl of Sussex’s nephew, making the divorce rather quick and painless.”

  “You don’t have a lot of luck with relationships...and by you, I mean the collective you.”

  “Truer words were never spoken.” He leaned into me, furrowed his brow and then smiled, “Are you going to break my heart, Maggie McGee?”

  “I’m not a heartbreaker; I’m the heartbroken.”

  He responded as we watched the waiter approach, “Then let us hope we can break your chain of luck.”

  We were shown our table and the food was immediately served. I was captivated. I had never been to a place where I ordered my meal in a living room, sat comfortably by a fire drinking and then was fetched when the meal was prepared. It was delightful and the food was pleasant, not cordon bleu, but certainly delicious. We laughed so hard I thought we were going to get kicked out.

  “We better keep it down, we’re getting looks,” I warned.

  Henry winked slyly at me, “Don’t worry Maggie, they rarely kick Earls out of places.”

  I chuckled and sat back to enjoy his lovely smile and the protection of his station.

  Henry took me back to the dorm and as we passed several, much prettier coeds, he kept his eyes on me. Now that’s talent. He knows how to make a woman feel like she is the center of his world...at least at that moment.

  It was awkward. My sitting room was on one side of the hall and my bedroom on the other. I wasn’t sure which one to open.

  “Henry, would you like to join me for a drink?”

  He shook his head, “As much as I have enjoyed this, I’m afraid I have to leave. I am on duty tomorrow, as well as on call. I need to get some sleep.”

  “Of course.”

  He reached down and lifted my chin, gave me a quick peck on the lips, and asked, “Rain check?”

  “Sure.”

  “Maggie, are you available next Saturday? I am going to pop down to London for the Lord Mayor’s Show, would you like to go?”

  I had to think. When are our papers due? “Henry, can I get back to you? I know my paper is due either Monday or Wednesday. I may need to stick around here.”

  He got out his wallet and handed me his card. “Of course, here’s my telephone number, ring me when you know.”

  “I will.”

  I watched him, hands in pocket; walk quickly out of the building and down the courtyard. I was both relieved and disappointed. I was curious about Henry, about what it would feel like to kiss and touch him. But, I was still feeling residual pain from the break up with Campbell and wasn’t sure I was ready for a man in my life so soon after our relationship had imploded.

  I didn’t have to think about it that night, so I went to bed and tried to sleep. I had a headache, the third one that week and my eyes burned. I was pretty sure that my body was fighting off something, but so far, I had been able to function.

  Chapter 8

  Fish Out of Water

  “Henry?”

  “Maggie! Oh, I’m delighted you rang. It’s been a bloody disaster around here today. Please tell me that you can go this weekend?”

  “I can go! I realized after reviewing the requirements of the paper that I have most of it already written, it only needs some polishing. I should have it done by Friday.”

  “What’s the paper on?”

  “International Conventions. Mine deals with International Conventions written to control acid rain.”

  “Conventions? As in seminars?”

  She giggled. “No, a convention is a treaty, a contract between countries. Did you know that only the Queen can sign conventions in Britain? And you thought she was good for nothing!”

  “Thank God we found her something to do!”

  They both laughed.

  “Maggie, I have to run, but I’ll pick you up at 4:00 pm Friday. Bring an overnight bag. We will return on Saturday, maybe Sunday morning. Does that work for you?”

  “I’ll be waitin’ with
bells on my toes.”

  He laughed. “That’s my girl. Ta!”

  Maggie smiled into the receiver. “Ta!”

  Friday afternoon Maggie had been working feverishly to finish her paper. After several hours, she checked the clock on the wall and saw that she had less than an hour to shower and pack. Clothes found their way into her backpack along with odds and ends. Since they were going to be outside watching a procession travel through London, she thought that jeans and sweaters would be appropriate for the weekend. Still in need of a shower, Maggie hurried into the bathroom and started to run the shower. Her lungs were feeling congested again and she kept coughing as she rushed around getting ready.

  After blow drying her wavy blonde hair, she put a head band on to keep it out of her face. There was no time to apply a lot of makeup so she lined her eyes with brown and slapped on some mascara. In the middle of brushing her teeth she heard a knock on her sitting room door across the hall. She opened the bedroom door and saw Henry turn around to look at her.

  “Oh! There you are. Ready?”

  “Come in, I’ll just be five minutes...no more.”

  He walked into her bedroom and looked around at the stacks of law books on the floor, photos on the walls and clothes neatly piled on a chair in the corner, which was obviously doubling as her laundry basket.

  She packed the toothbrush, put on some lipstick and turned around, smiling at Henry. “I’m ready for my close up, Mr. DE Mille.”

  “Smashing, absolutely smashing. We better get cracking. We need to beat the traffic.”

  They talked the whole trip about Conventions, the Royal Family and the Americans’ love of everything British. Maggie had forgotten to ask about the arrangements. They pulled into the mews behind Henry’s flat and parked in the garage around 6:30 p.m. She got out, grabbed her backpack and followed him into the side entrance.