They did a last tango, and executed it perfectly, but even that didn’t make Sarah smile. And then they had one more “last dance,” cheek to cheek, both of them lost in their own thoughts, and when they went back to their table, he kissed her for a long, long time.
“I love you so, sweet girl. I really can’t bear to leave you.” They had both behaved admirably for the entire two weeks, and there had never been any question of doing anything different. “What am I going to do for the rest of my life without you?”
“Be happy … have a good life … get married … have ten children. …” She was only half teasing him. “Will you write to me?” she asked wistfully.
“On the hour. I promise. Perhaps your parents will hate Italy and come back to London sooner,” he said hopefully.
“I doubt that.” And so did he.
“You know, Mussolini is almost as bad as Hitler, from what everyone tells me.”
“I don’t think he’s expecting us.” She smiled. “In fact, I’m not even sure we’ll see him while we’re there.” She was teasing him again, but she didn’t know what more to say to William. Everything they had to say to each other was too painful.
They drove back to her hotel in silence, and tonight he had driven himself. He didn’t want his driver intruding on his last moments with Sarah. They sat in his car for a long time, talking quietly about what they’d done, what they would like to do, what they might have done, and what they would do when she came back to London before she sailed.
“Ill spend every minute with you until you sail, and that’s a promise.” She smiled as she looked up at him, he was so aristocratic and so handsome. The Duke of Whitfield. Perhaps one day she would tell her grandchildren how she had loved him years before. But more than ever she knew she couldn’t cost him his succession.
“I’ll write to you from Italy,” she promised him, not sure what she’d say. She’d have to confine herself to telling him what they were doing. She couldn’t allow herself to tell him all she felt. She was firm in her resolve not to encourage him to do something crazy.
“If I can get through, I’ll call you.” And then he took her in his arms and held her. “My darling … how I love you.” She closed her eyes, as tears rolled slowly down her cheeks while they kissed.
“I love you too…” she said as their lips parted for the merest moment. She saw that there were tears in his eyes, too, and she gently touched his cheek with her fingertips. “We have to be good about this, you know. We have no choice. You have responsibilities in your life, William. You can’t ignore them.”
“Yes, I can,” he said softly. “And what if we did have a choice?” It was the closest he’d ever come to promising her a future.
“We don’t have a choice.” She put a finger to his lips and then kissed him. “Don’t do this, William. I won’t let you”
“Why not?”
“Because I love you,” she said firmly.
“Then why won’t you give us what we both want, and talk about the future.”
“There can’t be a future for us, William,” she said sadly.
And when he helped her from the car, they walked slowly across the lobby, hand in hand. She had worn the white satin dress again, and she looked extravagantly lovely. His eyes seemed to pore over her, as though drinking in every detail so that he would never forget her once she was gone.
“I’ll see you soon.” He kissed her again, in plain sight of the men at the desk in the lobby. “Don’t forget how much I love you,” he said softly, and he kissed her once more, as she told him that she loved him. It was agony getting into the elevator without him. The doors closed heavily, and as she rose with it, she felt as though her heart were being torn from her chest.
He stood in the lobby staring at the elevator doors for a long time, and then he turned and went back outside to the waiting Daimler, with an unhappy but determined look. She was stubborn, even if she thought she was doing the right thing for him, but William Whitfield was more so.
Chapter 8
She stared out the window as they rode on the train, forcing herself to think of Peter and Jane, and little James and Marjorie back home, and even Freddie. But no matter how hard she worked at distracting herself, she always found herself thinking of William … or his mother or his friends … or the afternoon they’d spent at Whitfield … or the times they had kissed … or the nights they danced.
“Are you all right, dear?” her mother asked solicitously as they left her to go to the dining car for lunch. Sarah had absolutely insisted she wasn’t hungry, and the steward was going to bring her a plate of fruit and a cup of tea, which she said was all she wanted. Her mother suspected she wouldn’t even bother to eat that.
“I’m fine, Mother, really.”
But Victoria knew that she wasn’t, and she told Edward over lunch how it worried her to see Sarah in so much pain again. She’d been through enough with Freddie without more heartbreak. And perhaps they shouldn’t have let her indulge her little romance with the duke.
“Maybe it’s important that she learn exactly what she feels about him now,” Edward said quietly.
“Why?” Victoria looked puzzled. “What difference will that make?”
“One never knows what life will bring, Victoria, does one?” She wondered if William had said something to him, but without asking her husband, she decided that was unlikely. And after lunch, they went back to their compartment and found Sarah reading a book. It was Brighton Rock by Graham Greene, which had just come out, and William had given it to her for the long ride on the train. But she couldn’t concentrate on it, she couldn’t remember anyone’s name. In fact, she had absolutely no idea what she was reading, and eventually, she put it away.
They passed through Dover, Calais, and Paris, where they switched to a connecting train, and long after midnight, Sarah lay awake in the dark, listening to the sound of the wheels as they rolled through northern Italy. And with each sound, each mile, each turn of the wheel, all she could think of was William and her moments with him. It was far worse than anything she had ever felt after Freddie, and the difference with William was that she really loved him, and she knew he loved her in return. It was just that the price of a future together would cost him too dearly, she knew, and she refused to let him pay it.