The Promise of Change - By Rebecca Heflin Page 0,29
him quite good. But you can judge for yourself. When you return to the States, you should get the BBC videos and watch them at your leisure. I’m sure they are available on DVD.”
Taking a sip of his wine, Alex asked, “When do you return to the States . . . which state, by the way?”
“I return to Florida the end of next week.” She found herself wishing again for a wine glass, something to hold so she knew what to do with her hands.
“How will you be spending the remainder of your holiday now that your classes are over?” he asked with great interest.
Before she could answer, Lady Clara interjected, “She is planning to tour Oxfordshire and the Cotswolds–all alone.”
Sarah blushed again; nothing obvious about that response.
“Did you hire a car?” he inquired, again enjoying the pink in her cheeks.
“No, I took the train from London.”
“How did you plan to tour the countryside and take advantage of all it offers without a car?”
“I planned on one of the touring companies.”
“That’s no way to see the Cotswolds,” he said, shaking his head in mock horror. “If I’m not being too presumptuous, may I offer my services as a tour guide for the week?” he replied. “After all, we are no longer strangers,” he added with a subtle grin.
Before Sarah could respond, Lady Clara declared, “Oh, I’m sure she would enjoy your company! Wouldn’t you, my dear?”
“Um, thank you. Are you sure? I wouldn’t want to impose.” Sarah looked down trying to hide her embarrassment over Lady Clara’s transparent matchmaking.
“It would be my pleasure,” he replied warmly. “Where are you lodging after tonight?”
“The Old Parsonage on Banbury Road.”
“Ah, yes. Very nice hotel. May I call you there tomorrow?”
“Oh, yes. Or you could call my cell phone, or my mobile as you call it, in case I’m not in my room.”
“Even better.”
After providing him with her cell phone number, Sarah realized that the room was nearly empty, except for the staff who clearly hoped they would leave so they could clean up. Apparently they’d overstayed their welcome. Although she was now reluctant to leave, she indicated that perhaps the evening was at an end.
As they walked out of the Buttery, Alex offered to walk Sarah back to her dorm.
Wow! Talk about a flashback to college. She felt like she was nineteen again, and Dan Acosta had asked her the same thing. With one glaring difference: Dan had not been an Earl.
When she said good night to Lady Clara, the Countess grinned broadly. “My dear, I will be in touch in a day or two regarding our planned lunch date.”
They’d already planned to meet for lunch while Sarah remained in Oxford, but now she clearly had another motive for their lunch date. Lady Clara was worse than a teenager, but that’s what Sarah loved about her.
Alex and Sarah descended the stairs and stepped out into the cool evening. She wrapped her pashmina tighter around her shoulders, prompting Alex to offer his jacket.
“No, thank you,” she replied. “It was just the sudden difference in temperature. I’m fine.” She realized that it had been rather warm in the Buttery. Or perhaps the warmth was in response to Alex.
It was a beautiful night. The stars were visible, the air perfumed and gentle. She closed her eyes and lifted her face to the night air, thinking how it was vastly different from the climate in Florida this time of year, where you had to wring out the air in order to take a deep breath.
“Where is your dorm?”
Alex’s voice gently pulled Sarah back from her thoughts. “Not far. I’m in Meadow five.”
They turned and walked slowly in that direction. The resonant tolling of Great Tom punctuated the quiet. The seven ton bell housed in Tom Tower rang one-hundred-one times each night at five-after-nine in honor of the original scholars of Christ Church College.
“What am I to call you? Lord Rutherford?” A little embarrassed by her question, she half expected him to laugh.
“You may call me Your Lordship,” he returned in his haughtiest voice, his tone dead serious.
Sarah turned to him appalled, eyes flashing.
“I’m only teasing.”
He chuckled, a warm, melodic laugh that went straight to her head like a shot of whiskey, making her woozy.
“Please call me Alex.”
“Oh.” Astonishment turned to embarrassment once more. She seemed destined to make herself look foolish in front of him. “Alex, I owe you an apology for calling you a liar and assuming the worst.”