The Promise of Change - By Rebecca Heflin Page 0,33
for a few seconds and then looked down as the waiter returned with their salads.
“Yes.” He looked up, his brown-black eyes capturing hers. “And now it is time to begin my study of you.”
The heat rose to her cheeks. That one statement felt like a caress. Until then, she’d never felt that depth of interest from another human being. It was a little disconcerting, as if he intended to reach the darkest depths of her soul.
“Tell me about yourself . . . I’ve learned that you’re a lawyer.” At her frown, he added, “Okay, an unemployed lawyer, and that you have a literature degree. Do have family back in the States?”
After taking a sip of her wine, she replied, “Well, I have a sister, Rebecca, or Becca as her friends and family call her. She is four years older and doesn’t look a thing like me.”
“Really?” he interjected. “How so?”
“She’s blond with light brown eyes, and her hair is straight as a board. She’s a bit taller than I am, and more athletically built. She’s a surfer chick.” She smiled indulgently. Even at forty-two, she still looked like she was eighteen.
“And the two of you are very close.”
“Yes, does it show?” she asked, her brows arched in surprise. Perceptive. She mentally added that to his other superlative qualities, along with intelligent, handsome, funny, charming, polished, well-read . . . and did she say handsome?
“I can see it on your face when you talk about her. I’m a devoted observer of human behavior, remember?” He tilted his head. “Do you have any other family?”
“I have twin nieces, who are as beautiful as their mother, and who are currently home from college for the summer, my brother-in-law, Mark, who’s a great guy, and my father, whom we affectionately call the Admiral–he’s retired Navy. My mother passed away last year.”
“I’m very sorry,” he interjected with sincerity.
“Thank you. Being in the world without your mother is a very lonely feeling. You feel somewhat adrift without her to anchor you to your family, your history . . . I’m sorry, I don’t know why I’m rambling on about that.” She looked down, embarrassed.
“No, you’re not rambling.” He leaned across the table. “I’m very interested. I know how difficult it was when I lost my father.”
The waiter came to take their salad plates away.
“Lady Clara told me about that—a plane crash. That must have been horrible for your family.”
“It was, but it seems so long ago now.”
“Do you have other family?” she inquired, hoping to change the subject to a more cheerful topic.
“I have a brother, Robert, younger by three years, who lives in London. He’s a Barrister, believe it or not, so you two have a little something in common.”
“It’s nice that you have a brother. I’ve always wanted a brother.”
“If you say so.” The edge in his voice brooked no further discussion on that topic.
“And your mother?” she said, probing further.
“My mother, Emma, is still with us.” He explained that Emma kept a bag packed with essentials so she could leave at a day or two’s notice. She’d traveled all over the world at deeply discounted rates, not that she couldn’t afford it otherwise, because she was on the list of a variety of travel companies. When travelers had to cancel, they’d call her to see if she’d like to go. Apparently she rarely refused.
“She’s been on African safaris, floating down the Yangtze River in China, hiking the Milford track in New Zealand, dog sledding in the Arctic, cruising in the Mediterranean, and who knows where else. It is often hard to keep up with her. If it weren’t for her mobile, we might go weeks or even months without talking.” He shook his head and smiled.
“Sounds like she’s having a lot of fun.”
“Oh, no question.” He didn’t seem put-out by his mother’s vagabond ways. “I’m glad she’s enjoying herself.”
They turned their attention momentarily to the entrées the waiter placed in front of them.
“She was never really comfortable in her role as countess, and if it weren’t for my brother and me, when my father died, she would have moved back to Leeds. However, she knew my brother, but especially me, needed to grow up in our ancestral home. As soon as we were adults, she moved to a small flat in Leeds.”
The life of a countess was so far beyond Sarah’s comprehension that she might as well imagine living her life as a Martian. The only thing she knew about it was garnered