The Last Garden in England(64)

He offered her a rueful smile. “It’s all I’ve ever been good at.”

“And what will I do then?” she asked. “Where will we live?”

“If I’m stationed at a permanent base, we can live there together.”

“If,” she said.

“My mother always wanted a daughter.”

Does your mother even know about me? Does your father?

“Now, shall we go back and share our happy news?” he asked, offering her his arm.

She stared at him, reservations creeping in. To Graeme, everything was all settled. Yet his proposal had thrown her life into chaos. She needed to write to Colin. She needed to explain what had happened while he’d been away fighting. Her stomach squeezed tight and sour. She dreaded him opening her letter, thinking that it would be filled with little stories about Highbury and cartoons of the people around her and instead finding that she’d chosen another man.

I don’t love you, Colin.

She glanced at Graeme from under her lashes. Did she love him? Did he love her? Men were supposed to talk about love when asking a woman to marry them, weren’t they? So why had he never mentioned it?

And yet now that she was engaged to Graeme, the thought of not becoming his wife was inconceivable.

She took a deep breath. They would figure everything out, one thing at a time.





? DIANA ?


A drink for the hostess of this fine party?”

Diana smiled at Father Devlin as she accepted a glass of white wine from Nurse Holt. “You have the nursing staff carrying your drinks now, Father Devlin?”

“The crutches make it rather difficult to be self-sufficient, I’m afraid. Nurse Holt was kind enough to humor me when I told her that the wine was for you,” said Father Devlin.

“Thank you,” Diana said to the younger woman, who dipped her head and scurried away. She slanted a look at the chaplain. “The nurses are all afraid of me, you know.”

“How could they be when you’re always so warm?” he asked.

She snorted, and then immediately covered her mouth. “Excuse me. That was hardly ladylike.”

“It’s good to see you laugh,” he said.

“I laugh.”

“Not enough.”

“Is that the advice of a spiritual adviser?” she asked.

“That is the advice of a man who hopes you consider him a friend, otherwise he’s sure that he’s been a terrible nuisance since he arrived at Highbury House,” said Father Devlin.

“No, you’re not a nuisance,” she said, surveying the party. “It is good to see a bit of fun in the house. This is what Murray wanted.”

“You’ve brought joy to a great many people tonight, and raised a good deal of money by the looks of it,” said Father Devlin.

The notion was all rather… satisfying. When she and Murray had moved into Highbury House, it had been run by a skeleton staff for far too long. Murray had started on the renovation with enthusiasm, but his practice in London had pulled his attention away, and it had become Diana’s responsibility. Diana’s home. She’d worked hard to return it to what it had been when the Melcourts lived there: a place where people gathered. A place for parties and flirtations and joy and friendship. Even though the dance floor was filled with injured men and women in uniform, it felt as though it might be that sort of place again.

She tilted her glass in the direction of the dance floor. “It’s all worth it to see Matron discuss the Voluntary Aid Detachment with that American Air Force major. He’s been trying to edge her out onto the dance floor for a half hour now.”

Father Devlin tipped his head to study the pair. “They would cut a rather fine figure, don’t you think?”

“Mmm,” she hummed in agreement. “Now, if Cynthia comes out of her office and dances this evening, I’ll never say another ill word against her again.”

A couple of nurses standing nearby guffawed.

“You’d better hope that doesn’t make its way back to her before the end of the evening,” said Father Devlin.

“She’s still angry I overruled her. Do you know, I’ve never been a great lover of parties and gatherings?” When the chaplain raised his brows, she continued, “Oh, if you’re forced to do it for long enough, you learn how to dance and talk and laugh. That is being a debutante. But it doesn’t come naturally to me.

“One of the reasons I fell in love with Murray was because he was everything I wasn’t. If I was happy watching people from my corner of the room, he was right in the center making everyone laugh. I was more interested in staying in the safety of the music room.”

“How did you meet?”

“At a dance, actually. He’d been harangued into asking me by some relative who knew my mother, and he was so gallant about it. We danced, and then he talked with me for the rest of the evening about music. I later learned that the poor man had a tin ear and couldn’t carry a tune at all, but he saw that I liked talking about it. Three months later, we were engaged, and I found I didn’t mind the dances and suppers nearly as much. Not if he was with me.”

“You loved him very much,” said Father Devlin.

She squared her shoulders even as grief pressed down on her. “I did. He gave me a different world.”