The Promise of Change - By Rebecca Heflin Page 0,48
ex-husband would be disappointed to hear that. How long were you married?”
“Almost three years. Our divorce was final one month before our third anniversary.”
“How long have you been divorced?”
“Seven months, but we were separated the last six months of our marriage. Turns out wealth can really complicate an otherwise uncontested divorce.”
“His wealth or yours?”
“Oh, definitely his.”
“Was he a lawyer like you?”
“No, a neurosurgeon.”
“So, you were married to the proverbial brain surgeon?” He chuckled. “How did you two meet?”
“At a hospital function shortly after he moved to town. It was a real coup for the hospital to get him on staff. Adrian’s skill is world-renowned.”
“Why did you get a divorce? He sounds like a great fellow,” he said, his brow knitted.
“He’d be the first to tell you he’s a great fellow.”
“Oh, so he has more front than Brighton.”
“Pardon?”
“Sorry, he’s uh, excessively self-confident.”
“Oh. Yes, you could say that.”
“But that’s not why you divorced.”
“No.” A wave of emotion crossed her face. “Another woman.”
They lapsed into an uncomfortable silence.
What man in his right mind would think he could do better than Sarah? He supposed he should be thankful she married an arrogant fool, otherwise he wouldn’t be sitting here with her now, watching goose bumps rise on her bare arms as he softly stroked the back of her hand with his thumb.
She cleared her throat.
“I’m sorry. This is supposed to be a right royal night out, and here I am making you sad.”
“Right royal?” she asked, confused.
“Oh, a fun, memorable night.”
“It is so far . . .” Sarah said, hoping Alex would give in and tell her what else he’d planned. He didn’t take the bait. “Enough about my lackluster marriage, now it’s your turn. Have you ever been married?”
“No. I’m a bachelor. I’ve never met anyone with whom I thought I could spend the rest of my life. I guess I have high expectations after watching my parents and my grandparents.” He smiled as he stood and walked around to pull out her chair, effectively ending any further discussion on that topic. “Are you ready? We’ll be late for the next surprise.”
“Do the surprises ever stop?” she asked, a little exasperated. Not that his surprises were disagreeable. Although she typically didn’t like them, his were more enjoyable than most.
He shook his head in feigned disappointment, placing his hand on the small of her back and directing her out into the pleasant evening.
They walked down the aisle to their seats in the stall, or orchestra pit as it was known in the U.S. Sarah wondered if he’d relied on his position as Earl or his celebrity as an actor to acquire such choice seats at the last minute.
This was indeed a pleasant surprise. Attending a performance of Shakespeare’s As You Like It, performed by the Royal Shakespeare Company, was not something she’d thought to do. The road sign announcing their arrival in Stratford-Upon-Avon, the birthplace of Shakespeare, should have provided her with some clue.
“How familiar are you with As You Like It?” He thumbed through the program.
“A little. I only read it once, a long time ago. My assigned play in my college Shakespeare class was Othello.”
“Your assigned play?” he asked, confused.
“Yes. My Shakespeare class was not typical of most college literature classes. I had a drama coach as my professor. She assigned groups of students to perform selected scenes from Shakespeare’s plays, complete with costumes. After all, she said, Shakespeare intended his plays be performed, not read.” Her tone held a hint of disdain.
“You disagree?”
“No. My professor was absolutely right, but I was mortified by the thought of acting. I almost withdrew from the class after the first day.”
“Why was that?”
“I’m not fond of being the center of attention, and to be graded on it, well, that was daunting. Plus, as you saw from our antics in Lacock, I’m not an actress.”
“But you survived the ordeal.”
“I did. And to this day I still recall my most dramatic lines: ‘I care not for thy sword. I’ll make thee known though I lost twenty lives!’” she said with a theatrical flourish, then blushed, suddenly embarrassed by her display.
“As they say, don’t give up your day job.” He chuckled, shaking his head.
She smacked him with her program before the house lights dimmed, postponing any further discussion.
It was another lovely night, each night getting progressively warmer. Alex asked if she’d like to walk a bit before the drive back to Oxford. She agreed.
As they ambled along in silence, Alex took her hand and placed it in the