by Karen Welch
An electric current of foreboding, along with the desperate need for fresher air, sent him to his feet. He dropped some coins on the bar and clapped Reggie on the shoulder. “I’m off. I’ll see you tonight. Oh, and I wouldn’t advise another of those.” He nodded toward the refill the barmaid had set before Reggie. “You’ll need to start with a clear head if you hope to hold your own with the Shannon clan. They’ll drink even you under the table if you’re not careful.”
On the street, he gulped in air, setting his stride to a near run. Not sure where he was going, he decided home would be safest. With hours to go before the party at Claridges, he would find something constructive to do, maybe tidy the flat and make himself a decent tea. A long shower, careful shave, make sure his dinner jacket was pressed, anything to occupy his mind. If he gave any thought at all to that moment they came face to face again, he felt certain he’d fall to pieces, cold sweat, hands shaking, heart palpitations, the lot.
He had started up the stairs when Miss Elvira Hastings, one of the pair of spinster sisters whose family home had been turned into flats after the war, popped her head out of her door and hailed him. “I do hope you won’t mind, but I let your cousin into your flat, Kendall. The poor thing said she’d been traveling all night and needed a place to rest until her hotel room was ready.”
Clutching the bannister, he whirled to look down on her wrinkled face, further creased by a concerned frown. “What time was that?”
“Oh, around noon, I think. Yes, it must have been because the postman came about the same time.”
“I see.” He turned to stare up the open stairwell toward the third floor, toward his own door where Peg, for better or worse, was waiting for him. “Thank you, Miss E!” His feet had obviously not taken heed of his frozen panic. They propelled him upward with determined speed, barely making contact with the floorboards. By the time he reached the landing, the hand that held his key was shaking and his breathing was a shallow pant. For an instant, he saw stars and pressed his forehead against the door to steady himself.
The flat, a single long room with a tiny kitchen in one corner, was furnished with his personal taste and interests in mind. Over the years, he’d acquired several good pieces, a long leather couch and two club chairs, a small oval dining table and a fine drop-front secretary which housed his favorite books behind glass doors above. The sizable expanse of floor, which provided ample room for his students and their music stands when necessary, was covered with a gently faded Oriental carpet. He appreciated the light from the tall windows and the openness of his space, enjoyed the comfort and solitude it provided. Yet now, as he peered in cautiously, he had the sensation of seeing it for the first time.
It only took a moment for his eyes to light on her. Curled on the couch, her head resting in the bend of one arm and her legs drawn up beneath the folds of her skirt, she was sound asleep. He took some time just to stand over her, drinking in her face and form. She was the same and yet changed. Three years had brought her into womanhood. Her dress and makeup, her manicured hands and even the high-heeled shoes and matching handbag on the floor by the couch suggested a woman of fashion. He noticed with relief that her hair, pinned in a now disheveled twist at the back of her head, had not been cut. At least that much remained of the girl he still thought of as “his Peg.”
Fascinated, he watched as her lashes fluttered, holding his breath as she gazed around the room. When at last she brought him into focus, she smiled drowsily, not seeming at all surprised to find him standing over her. “You don’t have a bed.” The voice was the same, husky and warm, still possessing the power to stir his blood.
“Yes I do. It’s in the wall.” He waited, afraid to move and risk shattering the moment. “What are you doing here?”
“I wanted to see you before tonight. Alone. I hope you don’t mind that I sort of lied to your landlady.” Rolling onto her back, she stretched luxuriantly and he very nearly leapt on her, the need to feel her in his arms threatening to turn him into a madman.
“Did you lie? She seemed quite convinced you needed a place to rest your weary head. My poor little cousin.” There was an unexpected edge to his voice, no doubt due to the effort of holding himself in check.
Peg sat up, reaching back to draw the dangling pins from her hair. “I could have stayed at the hotel, but I wasn’t sure when you’d be at home, so I decided to come here and wait for you. I didn’t think you’d mind.” Shaking her hair free, she looked up with a gleam in her eyes, but he thought he saw uncertainty there as well.
“No. Of course not.” Why couldn’t he move, reach for her, defy reason and obey his pounding heart?
Slowly, she swung her feet to the floor, reaching for her purse. “I need to freshen up. You do have a bathroom, don’t you?”
He blinked, caught staring at the perfection of her bare feet, the lacquered pink nails peeking through the toes of her stockings. “Of course. Right through here.” Striding to the door, he switched on the light and took a quick glance to make sure everything was in order. “There’s a clean towel on the hook there.”
She brushed past him through the door, leaving a whiff of lemon in her wake. “Thank you.”
Stunned by the unpleasant stiffness of their reunion thus far, he stood for a moment staring at the closed door. When she came back, he would have to do something to amend the situation. Sweep her into his arms, kiss her breathless, carry her to the couch and make love to her without so much as a “How’ve you been?” No, better to take things slowly. Brew a pot of tea, put out something to eat, seat her at the table and ask how her flight had been and what her plans were while she was in London. It was possible they just needed a little time to get past the awkwardness. He had certainly changed in the past three years. It was only reasonable that Peg had too. They couldn’t expect to pick up where they left off, which, if he were honest, hadn’t been on the best of terms. He wasn’t convinced their correspondence had done much to clarify their relationship since.
Shedding his jacket, he crossed to the kitchen, turning up his cuffs as he went. Tea, a little light conversation. That was the safest way to begin. Filling the kettle, he set it heating, measured the leaves into the pot and took cups and saucers from the shelf, seeking comfort in the simple tasks.
Peg emerged, hair smoothly pinned up, nose freshly powdered, and paused in the middle of the carpet. “I suppose I should go. We both have to get ready for tonight.” The faintest tremor slipped past the last word as she dropped her eyes. “Aren’t you glad to see me, Kendall?”
In the next instant she was in his arms, her mouth crushed beneath his. He took his time, reacquainting himself with the feel of her body against his, soaking in her taste and scent, responding to her touch as she seemed to search out every nerve and set it singing.
“You are glad! I was so afraid you’d found someone else and you wouldn’t want me anymore.” Her face buried against his neck, she was shivering, her hands trembling on his chest.
His knees threatening to give way, he braced himself against the counter. “Why would you ever think that?” he whispered against her hair.
“Your letters didn’t say much. I couldn’t tell if you were sad to be apart or just being brave. Or if you didn’t care anymore.” She trailed her lips across his cheek. “Please say you want me, just a little.”
“Silly, darling brat, of course I want you! I was afraid you might not want me. Your letters didn’t say very much either. And look at you. You’re so grown up now.”
Her mouth curled against his in a little smile. “Not so grown up. Smoke and mirrors, remember?”
“Beautiful smoke and mirrors.” He kissed her again, his all-too familiar response to her tangling with his conscience. Just as impulse was taking the upper hand over reason, the shrill of the kettle came to his rescue. “Tea? Surely you have time for that?”
Peg laughed, the sound prompting a further surge of arousal. “I suppose.”
While he was busy in the kitchen,
she wandered around the flat, touching a book here and studying a photograph there. “Your parents?” she held up a small frame for closer inspection.
“Yes, on their wedding day.”
“I see where you get your looks. How is your mother, by the way? Patrick wrote to Dad that she’d been ill?”
“Doing better. Turned out to be her gallbladder and once she recovered from the surgery, she’s been fine. Not that she’d want me to know that. Mother likes to enjoy the full benefits of an illness, if you know what I mean.”
“Poor Kendall. Still the devoted son?”
He set a plate of scones on the table, thankful he’d made it to the bakery that morning. Holding out a chair for her, he tried to calm an unreasonable flutter of nerves. “It’s not exactly up to Brown’s standards, but please, help yourself.”
“I like your flat. It looks like you. Neat and elegant without being pretentious.”
He grinned at her analysis. “Is that so? Am I to take that as a compliment?”
“Of course.” Over the rim of her cup, her gaze caused his skin to prickle. “You look wonderful.”
“Not losing my hair yet, or putting on weight?”
She laughed again. He felt the tension easing from his shoulders. “Not at all. You’re taking good care of yourself, I think. Or is someone else doing that for you?”
He hesitated, fighting the instant return of that tension. “No, Peg. You see before you that rare creature, a single man who’s learned to take care of himself.”
“Good. I’m glad.” She reached for a scone, taking pains to split it and spread jam on each half. “I hear you’re the best man. How did that come about?”
“I was responsible for introducing the lovebirds. Reggie and I have been friends since prep-school. His father was my father’s physician, in fact. He’d been finishing up his residency in Manchester, so we hadn’t seen much of one another for a while. He came down to London one weekend and I insisted he come along to a tennis party I’d been commandeered for. I never expected he and Maeve would hit it off, but it was really love at first sight. Happy ending all around, really. Reggie was on the rebound from a disastrous match-up with a girl who would have made him miserable for life, daughter of a bankrupt earl who wanted his money but didn’t give a fig for him. And of course Maeve was that close to becoming a spinster with a reputation for bad judgment. I think they’ll do very well together.”
“That’s sweet. Two almost lost souls finding one another. From what I hear, this is going to be the wedding of the season. I was surprised Maeve wanted me to be a bridesmaid, but it fit into my plans quite well.”
“Your plans?” He’d relaxed again, enjoying the sight of her across his table, almost a though she belonged there.
“Yes. I was coming to London anyway. I’ll be here all summer.”
He set his cup down very carefully. “All summer?”
“As part of my studies, Dad’s giving me a summer in England. I’ll be going to lectures at the British Museum and the National Gallery and traveling around the country a little bit. In July I’m going to meet Connie and her mother in Paris for a week. So it wasn’t like I had to make a special trip for Maeve’s wedding.” She delivered the news in the tone she might have used to read a menu, but he was aware of her eyes warily gauging his reaction.
“I see.” He stared into his cup, contemplating another sip, deciding against it, straightened his spoon to precisely align with his saucer, his heart thrumming erratically against his ribs. Refusing to imagine Peg in London for three months, he found himself wondering how many American college girls had such opportunities and if they spent the time expanding their minds or merely sampling European men.
“That’s all you have to say? ‘I see’?” Pushing away her plate, she leaned back in her chair and wrapped her arms defensively over her waist. “I’d hoped you might be a little bit pleased. You have found someone else, haven’t you?”
“No! Peg, believe me there’s no one. It’s just that you’ve sprung this on me rather suddenly. Will you be staying with Adelaide?”
“No. I’ll be at Brown’s the whole time. I have a very nice little suite. All the comforts of home.”
“I’m sure.” Once again, his mind refused to absorb the implications and the teacup recaptured his focus.
“I should go. I haven’t unpacked yet.” She stood, brushing out her skirt and turning toward the door. “I suppose I’ll see you tonight.” That tremor was back. He sensed tears close behind.
Launching from his chair, he took a step toward her, his brain kicking into gear at last. “Peg, wait! Do you need an escort for tonight? I could call for you, at Brown’s, say around seven? That is if you’d like, of course.”
Slowly, she looked back over her shoulder, her eyes shimmering. “You’re being awfully proper. Have I made you uncomfortable?”
“A little bit, I suppose. You have to admit, it’s a lot to take in. First I find you here unannounced, sleeping on my couch. Then you tell me you’re going to be in London all summer. I don’t quite know how to react.”
“I’m sorry. Let’s try again.” She turned to face him, holding out her hand. “Hello, Kendall. Remember me? I’m your cousin, Peg Shannon, from New York? I do hope we can see something of each other while I’m here in London this summer.”
He took the hand and squeezed it gently. “Cousin Peg, it would be my pleasure. Might I have the honor of escorting you to the party this evening?”
Chapter Twenty-eight
Kendall stood on the street outside the imposing entrance to Brown’s Hotel, taking a moment to grasp the fact that for the next three months, this historic building just blocks from his own modest digs would shelter Peg Shannon. How many times would he beat a path to these doors? The thought made him shiver, as much with uncertainty as with anticipation.
When he inquired at the reception desk, the clerk, after eyeing him top to toe, nodded toward the lobby. “I believe Miss Shannon is waiting for you, sir.”
He spotted Peg standing near the doorway in conversation with a middle-aged gentleman in some sort of uniform. Kendall’s first thought was that she looked every inch the socialite in her champagne brocade gown. His second was that she seemed uneasy, toying with the pearls at her throat and glancing frequently out the windows. With that in mind, he made sure to produce his brightest smile and reach for her as he approached, dipping to brush a kiss on her cheek as his hand settled at the small of her back. Worry had no business clouding those beautiful eyes, he thought, and accepted that his poetic bend had returned along with staccato pulse rates and damp palms.
“Sorry to keep you waiting. You look stunning as always.” He was rewarded with a slightly wary smile, before Peg turned to the older man.
“Kendall, this is Hammonds, who’ll be looking after me while I’m here this summer. Hammonds, this is my cousin, Mr. Gregg. He’ll be my escort this evening.” The man bowed solemnly as Peg went on. “If you’ll bring the car around, I think we’re ready to go. Unless you’d like a drink first, Kendall?”
Still trying to decide what role Hammonds was meant to play, he almost missed the plea in her question. “Not a bad idea. I think we have plenty of time still.”
Hammonds took himself off with another bow and a soft spoken, “Miss.”
“He’s nice I suppose, but I don’t quite know how to take him.” Peg fidgeted with her pearls some more. “Adamson hired him over the phone. Dad’s one condition was that I have a driver with me here. He’s taking his duties very seriously.”
Steering her across the lobby toward the bar, Kendall detected what might be apprehension in her voice. “How did you manage to get away from him today?”
“Oh, he thought I was sleeping. I told him after he brought me from the airport I wouldn’t need him until tonight. I took a taxi to your place. I’m afraid he may be keeping tabs on me and reporting to Adamson. It’s been so unpleasant lately at home. I was hoping to have a little more freedom here.”
>
Seated at the bar, he ordered two club sodas. “I assume you still don’t drink?”
“No, but if you want something. . .”
“The fact is I’ve gone off it myself lately. My friends mock me to no end for becoming a health nut. But you were saying that things had been unpleasant. . .how so?”
“Oh, just some silly business about someone following me around campus, leaving notes and pictures. It started last fall, and Dad had Simon actually going to classes with me. The maddening thing about it was no one would tell me exactly what was going on. Dad said it was nothing I needed to worry about, but as I tried to tell him, I was the one who had to suffer the embarrassment of my chauffeur standing guard outside all my classes.”
“Was it ever resolved? Was the man caught?” The memory of the man called Brendan O’Hara raised the hair on the back of his neck.
“As far as I know, he just stopped whatever he was doing. And I told Dad, I’m sure he’s not going to follow me to England. No sooner do I get here, and Hammonds seems to have orders to stick to me like glue. I’m going to have a talk with Dad as soon as he gets in, you can bet on that.” Her eyes sparkled over the rim of her glass.
“When is he getting in, by the way?”
“Not until next week. He’ll just make it in time for the wedding. He was in Greece for two weeks, and now he’s tied up in Rome. But I don’t want to talk about him. While we’re alone, I want to tell you how glad I am you showed up.”
“But I told you I’d be here.” He scowled in confusion.
“I know. But then I thought maybe you’d changed your mind. I guess I’d understand if you had. It may be awkward walking into this party together.”
“Ah. I have that all worked out. You see, Reggie told me earlier that you were here. So I thought I’d just let drop that I called to see if you needed an escort tonight. That should do the trick, don’t you think?”
Grateful was hardly the word for her smile. “That’s perfect. I have to admit, I’m nervous about seeing everyone without Dad here. I know they’re family, but I feel funny suddenly being included like this. You really know all of them better than I do.”