Sadie’s hands had stilled in his hair. Slowly, she moved her fingers down the back on his head, and settled her arms around his neck.
“Are you well?” he whispered.
“I’m perfect. It didn’t hurt at all.” She tucked her face against his shoulder.
He found it easier to continue without her soft mouth on his. The mechanics of thrusting, of discovering what made her tense or cry out took precedence for a time. Thoroughly in the moment, he was surprised to find his own energies gathering. The urge to spill upon him, he seated himself deeply then followed the dictates of his body to move hard, fast. Sadie’s answering cries indicated she was ready for him. He felt her rhythmic undulations as she came apart and he followed her down, his face buried in her fragrant hair. Heaven.
No matter what happened now, he’d committed to this marriage, this woman. It was only when, sated and satisfied, he’d moved onto his back, tugging her with him so that she rested across his chest, that he remembered she wasn’t really his wife, that he’d given into the fantasy that she believed. But he found it hard to judge himself harshly. Virgin or not, she’d been ready for love. He knew he hadn’t even hurt her. There wouldn’t be any blood on their sheets. No, the bloody mess here was what leaving her would cost them both when the time came.
* * *
Sadie’s eyes opened, even though her brain willed them not to do it. Ugh. She could see watery light around the edges of the curtains. But she was so perfectly comfortable. The bed maintained the perfect temperature; she had just the right number of blankets on her. Les breathed steadily at her side. Only a couple of nights and she was already used to the sound so close to her ear. In the hospital she’d listened for him, always afraid his breathing would stop, but that fear was long gone now, despite his continuing lack of perfect robust health.
The alarm clock made that pre-buzzing sound that indicated the full alarm was about to blare. She hit the top to turn it off and sat up. The blanket and sheet fell to her lap. She realized her breasts were uncovered. When she turned to dangle her legs off the bed, she felt unusual stiffness in parts of her body. Stickiness, too. Her eyes widened. She and Les had made love the night before. Leaping to her feet, she spun around. Her husband was only a vague dark lump in the bed. She danced her way to the bathroom. Marriage was wonderful. A month ago, she’d been a chambermaid in a downscale inn in Richmond. Now she was a Londoner, a married lady, waking up in a grand hotel. She’d danced with a film star the night before, then she’d had relations with her handsome husband. Grinning, she shook her head at herself in the mirror and ran a comb through her bed-rumpled curls, then began to heat the water for a quick bath.
She might only be a chambermaid, but she was having dinner with two film stars, Peter Eyre, and Emmeline that night. Surely she wouldn’t be a chambermaid for long.
As she bathed, her thoughts went to the mysterious Ivan Salter, her sister’s fiancé who she hadn’t even met yet, and his recent promotion to head of security. She fantasized that Mr. Eyre would promote her over Olga. Fancy that, her giving orders to a princess! Mr. Eyre liked Olga very much, however. No, she’d have to be given some other kind of position. Like her sister, she’d learned how to type and take dictation in order to help their grandfather with the parish duties. Maybe Mr. Eyre would make her his personal secretary.
As she washed all her intimate nooks and crannies, though, she took a moment to cradle her stomach. She could already be expecting a baby, which would change everything. Thank goodness Les had received a promotion instead of the sack after the drama of Hull. Soon, they might need his extra income to offset her loss of work. She imagined herself strolling Primrose Hill around Christmas next year, pushing a pram with their baby in it, then chuckled to herself.
At least she knew enough about men to understand that once she’d been properly taken to bed, the activity was unlikely to cease. Even if she didn’t have a baby inside her this time, one would come soon enough. Les had proven himself virile indeed, despite his claims. He was much better and it was her duty as a wife to continue to build him up, enhance his strength and endurance. She’d order liver for breakfast and make sure he limited his cocktails in the evening. During her off hours, she’d borrow wifely magazines from the Reading Room downstairs and learn how to take care of her husband, rather than dancing the night away in the Coffee Room like the unmarried Emmeline. No, she had a higher calling, whittling away at anything preventing Les from achieving perfect health and well-being so he could care for his family.
Sadie reached the basement staff lounge five minutes before her shift began, early for her. Arriving at work was infinitely easier when she merely had to travel down the lift. Olga met her by the bulletin board, which held an assortment of notices and the daily, already infamous “Greetings from Peter Eyre” memorandum. Today’s topic was instructions for what to do if you found a guest’s missing belongings.
“I’d like a word,” Olga said, gesturing her toward the elderly arm chairs in the far corner.
Sadie followed her to the chairs, still flying from her night of marital bliss. She put her hands to her cheeks, feeling like she wore a giddy smile on her face, but apparently it was internal. “Yes?”
“Mr. Eyre was pleased with your actions yesterday,” Olga said.
“I’m honest,” Sadie told her.
Olga nodded. “I am glad to hear it. We took you on based on your sister’s word, you understand, and then you didn’t appear here to work.”
“I did try as soon as I was able to come to town.”
Olga patted the armrest. “I’ve heard the story. Your husband’s accident, then you came to town the day of the bombing. Despite all this, and two days of missed work so early in your career with us, you do good work, and as you say, are proving your honesty. Therefore, you’ve been promoted to the second guest floor. That is, the third floor.”
“How nice,” Sadie exclaimed. Now she knew she was smiling. She had a sense that Olga considered the promotion unearned, something better saved for a single girl, but she knew she’d do a good job. And she’d even be seeing Mr. Eyre so she could thank him. “Are the facilities exactly the same there?”
“Yes, nothing changes until the fifth floor. So you can start today.”
Olga’s gaze had sharpened on a point on the wall. Sadie followed her supervisor’s eyes to a crooked painting. She liked the small watercolor, which depicted a dancer with a pearl necklace dangling down her back. Jumping up, she straightened it. When she turned back, Olga’s shoulders had relaxed. She waved Sadie on, and Sadie left the room to join the other chambermaids at the service lift.
The day went quickly until Sadie arrived back at their room to attempt to dress for dinner. She had nothing suitable for dining with a film star, not even a strand of jewelry to make her clothing more elegant. For a young bride, however, did she really need anything more than her perfect, flashy wedding ring? Not to mention the confidence that came with a sexy new marriage?
While her dreams of promotion hadn’t elevated her from maid duty yet, at least she had been promoted, and after such a short time. A good sign.
Les came out of the bathroom, steam billowing behind him. In a dressing gown, he smelled peppery and still patted his cheeks. She went up to him and stroked her fingers down his face.
“So soft,” she murmured.
“Not as soft as all that lovely hidden skin of yours, darling,” he said, bending his head for a kiss.
Long moments passed as they curved their bodies against each other. They kissed deeply and swayed to a rhythm they both instinctively understood. She broke away, breathless when black spots began to swim behind her closed eyelids.
As she gulped air, he said, “Don’t you know to breathe through your nose when you kiss?”
She rubbed the offending organ. “I’m stuffy.”
He frowned. “Do we need to cancel dinner?”
She squeezed his arm. “No. I’ll run a hot bath. The steam from yours will h
elp. I’ll be fine.”
He nodded. “Very well. I’ll dress and be ready to go down when you are. Oh, and a box arrived for you. I put it in the wardrobe.”
“That must be Alecia’s dress. I cabled her this morning to see if she had something I could borrow for tonight.” Mindful of the time, Sadie only rested in the hot water until she could breathe better, then dried off and went to look at her sister’s dress. Her mouth fell open when she saw the lovely dress. She pulled it from the box. A piece of notepaper fluttered to the floor.
She scanned the note and read that it was a designer piece Alecia had ended up with courtesy of her former employers, the Marvins. The sleeveless high-low hem dress had a pink silk lining that would show from the front, and embroidered flowers across the waistline relieved the black shell. Sadie hoped it would suit her as it was more fitted than the average flapper style. She shimmied her way into it, then ran into the sitting room to show Les.
He was fiddling with a painting when she came into the room but turned quickly. She thought she heard the snick of a lock being engaged, as if the door had opened and closed, but no one else was there.
“Why are you frowning, darling?” Les asked, coming toward her, already dressed for dinner. “Head aching?”
“No, I just thought I heard something.”
He glanced around. “No, I don’t think so.” He reached her and took her hands. “My, but you’re a siren in those rags. Where did your sister acquire a dress like that?”
She smiled. “Courtesy of the stage actress Sybil Marvin.”
“Ah, the infamous Mrs. Marvin. I understand they’ve set up shop near Gainsborough Studios as Mr. Marvin is filming a movie there now.”
“From here to Islington is a bit of a comedown,” Sybil said. “But Alecia said they’ve rented a furnished garden flat on Arlington Square. Mrs. Marvin wrote her. Sad, really, that she wants to keep up an acquaintance after her own husband tried to rape Alecia. I gather she isn’t working herself, and is attempting to do her own housekeeping.”
“Stay away from those people,” Les said in a flat voice. “No matter how glamorous they are.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t. Not the Marvins.” If nothing else, she was loyal to her sister. “Surely you don’t think the Teddy Fortresses are the same sort of people. Mr. Eyre is very particular. He removed the Marvins the second he could, but the Fortresses are still here, and very much part of the social whirl at the hotel.”
“I wish Mr. Eyre was as perfect as you claim,” Les said, “but this hotel is so large, no one person can oversee everything. He needs to loosen the strings a bit and let others become experts in the hotel.”
“It’s difficult to start over with an entirely new staff,” she agreed as he opened the front door of their suite and escorted her into the hall. “But at least he’s quick to promote those he can trust, to begin to create a hierarchy.”
“Like your future brother-in-law?”
“Yes, and now me.” She grinned.
Les lifted his brows. “Congratulations, darling. What has happened?”
Finally, she’d had an excuse to share her news. “I’ve been promoted to the third floor, and after such a short time. I realize the quality of guest doesn’t really change until the fifth floor, but still.”
“It’s a step in the right direction,” he agreed, kissing her forehead as the lift opened. “I’m so proud of you.”
She felt the warm glow all the way down, as she chattered happily, speculating about how long Lord Walling was willing to pay for their suite on the seventh floor. Les didn’t comment. They were escorted to a table in the Restaurant without any waiting. Mr. Eyre and Emmeline were present already, a bottle of champagne waiting on ice for their first guests. The Fortresses arrived five minutes later. Miss Page wore a mink stole draped casually over one shoulder and a gold dress that plunged revealingly in front, plus another one of her sparkling headdresses, this one a gold band with sequin-dusted feathers and a glittering brooch attached.
Sadie admired the actress’s considerable style. Would Les let her spend money on something so frivolous?
Miss Page showed her essentially good qualities by praising both her dress and Emmeline’s. Emmeline wore a turban and looked wonderful in it, her strong features somehow softened, and the constant stream of cigarette smoke made her look mysterious. Eyre, on the other hand, seemed to have developed some type of secret connection with her husband and Sadie thought they shared several significant glances. For herself, she traded quips and impersonations with Teddy Fortress, enjoying herself immensely. It helped that Les gave her frequent approving glances throughout the meal, except when she attempted to imitate Irina Kozyrev’s Russian accent.
“What?” she asked, catching his frown.
He waved his champagne glass. “Darling, your Russian needs improvement. I’ll have to teach you some of the actual language, so that you can get a sense of the accent.”
“Do you speak Russian?” Miss Page’s eyes, already huge and mysterious looking with their thick lashes, probably fake, and Cleopatra-like lining of kohl, widened.
Les rattled off a phrase or two then grinned at her astonished face.
“How fascinating,” Miss Page exclaimed in her flat American tones. “Too exciting. My darlings, I must have your help. I am playing a Russian in my next film.”
“But your films are silent. No one can hear you speak,” Les said, taking a sip from his glass.
“Of course I do,” Miss Page said. “You can’t hear me, of course, but I do speak. If you could teach me a few little phrases of Russian, perhaps when you are instructing your own sweet bride, I would consider it such a pleasure.”
Sadie wiggled with excitement. “Why don’t you come for tea in our suite on Sunday? Les can give us a lesson.”
Miss Page looked thoughtful. “Too perfect, my darling. I shall arrive at four.”
“Excellent,” Teddy Fortress exclaimed, rubbing his large hands together. “More golf time for me.”
Miss Page rolled her eyes expressively. “Usually I use my husband’s golf time to shop.” She stroked her fingers down her mink.
The famous comedian did a creditable imitation of a dying man. Sadie saw Les’s frown and realized he didn’t see the humor in it. However, the moment soon passed and she could hardly contain her excitement after they separated from the couple in the seventh floor hallway after dinner and went into their own suite. She’d held her own with the rich and famous, and her husband had done the same. The Lester Rakes were an up-and-coming couple. All she needed was a wardrobe of her own to match her husband’s custom suits. The lingerie had been an investment in their private relationship but now she needed gowns.
Exhausted after her effort at socializing with film stars, she didn’t mind when Les said he had to run back downstairs and thank Peter Eyre again for their evening. Her stuffy head returning, she went to take another bath.
* * *
The next morning, she woke with total resolve. She’d work at her position cheerfully, and plan to use every penny toward freshening up her wardrobe. Why shouldn’t she fit in among the Teddy Fortresses of the world? She and Les were young and attractive and well-placed in the best city in the world. They could be anything they wanted to be.
First, however, she had to be a chambermaid. One who had eaten a lot of rich food the night before that hadn’t digested properly. She felt a little dizzy as she cleaned the morning’s allotment of rooms. The third floor seemed to be full of commercial travelers on their own, like Les had been, and emptied early because the men had to go to work.
Olga came down the hall just as Sadie pushed her trolley out of the last room on her list. “Done so soon?”
“An early bunch. I didn’t need to clean around anyone,” Sadie said.
Olga pulled a list from her apron pocket and perused it. “Why don’t you have a long lunch? Then meet me in the break room and I’ll find something for you to do.”
“Are you sure?”
Olga frowned. “You’re a bit pale, Sadie. I think you pushed too hard. I know you can clean, but I prefer thorough to fast, unless we are short-staffed.”
“Yes, Olga,” Sadie said, perfectly willing to put her feet up and leaf through one of Les’s magazines for the next two hours. She went upstairs, to find her husband holding a fountain pen and an open book.
“What are you reading?”
“The Mark of Zorro,” Les said, closing the book and capping his pen. “What brings you up? Is it lunchtime already?”
“Only for me. I worked quickly this morning.” She heard a click in the wall between the suites. “Did you hear that?”
“What?”
She pointed to the wall. “I wonder what those Russians do all day. I hear the strangest noises.”
Les shrugged. “I was too engrossed in my book to notice.”
Sadie set down her apron and sat next to Les on the sofa, opening his book. She read the opening paragraph of the book. “This prose is so explosive that I can see why you can’t hear anything. Beat? Shrieked? Puffed? Showered? All in the first lines?”
He chuckled. “It’s rip-roaring stuff.”
“Tis a night for evil deeds!” she read, giggling.
“Thankfully our storms in London are not quite as descriptive,” Les said, wrapping his arm around her shoulder. “Shall I shower you with my love? So that you may shriek?”
“Sir, you are quite puffed up,” she said, tongue in cheek. “I should beat you back.”
“But you won’t.” Les lowered his mouth to hers.
Chapter Fifteen
Nearly two hours later, Sadie rushed off the service lift to meet Olga in the basement staff lounge and receive the list of her afternoon duties. When she went past the four lonely bathrooms, she decided she’d better take the time to duck in and check her hair, since Les had done a very thorough job of loving her. Even her vision had been blurry afterward, not to mention her hearing. But the ride downstairs had cleared her senses somewhat.
I Wanna Be Loved by You Page 20