Her large blue eyes were full of pain rather than unwanted compassion. “My father left his position here to fight. He died,” she said quietly. “I’ve always wanted to follow in his footsteps. I want to make him proud, doing what he loved.”
Alexander couldn’t think of anything to say in response to so starkly stated a sentiment.
Flashes of lightning illuminated the sky and the grounds, silhouetting the trees in the Quad. Rain and wind slashed through the darkness. They might have gone back into the foyer or the gallery to wait it out, but Miss Everleigh didn’t seem to have any inclination to return inside, and Alexander realized he didn’t either. Usually, he’d be holed up in his flat or his office, pointedly ignoring the flashes of light and cracks of thunder, but he found he could take it all in without his anxiety roaring to life. Miss Everleigh had very effectively distracted him. The storm was secondary to their strangely intimate conversation.
Before long, the electric lights of the buildings around the Quad buzzed back to life.
“Ah! I suppose I’ll see you tomorrow, Mr. Ashton,” Miss Everleigh said, turning back to the door.
Her easy return to the formality of the past few hours made him feel like his necktie was too tight. “Alexander.” He opened the door for her, his eyes on the hallway beyond. “Please, call me Alexander.”
CHAPTER 5
The raucous storm the previous evening had cleared the way for brilliant blue skies, and the day promised to be pleasant. Saffron had dressed accordingly in a copen blue blouse and matching skirt. Saffron made her way down the narrow hall of the Chelsea flat she shared with Elizabeth.
At the doorway of the kitchen, Saffron looked with affection at the woman sipping coffee at their little kitchen table in a dramatic dressing gown of crimson, a pleasant breakfast laid out before her. She and Elizabeth had always been the best of friends, growing up together in the heart of Bedford as neighbors. Saffron had thought that they would spend their lives together, entwined by youthful hopes of a match with Wesley, Elizabeth’s brother.
Along with robbing the Hale family, and Saffron, of Wesley, the war had decimated the Hale family’s fortunes. When Elizabeth had been expected to do her part to refill their coffers with a convenient marriage to a ghastly old man, she had escaped to London with Saffron.
At first, it was a grand adventure, exploring the city together when Saffron wasn’t busy with lessons. Saffron’s grandparents soon realized that her commitment to her studies was just as serious as their son’s had been, and they cut her off. Even with the meager funds Saffron’s mother managed to give to Saffron, she and Elizabeth found themselves suddenly and desperately short on money. In addition to finding employment, Elizabeth had taken to domestic responsibility with more than just the enthusiasm stoked by the need to prove to their families they didn’t need their support. She seemed to have a real talent for cooking and household organization. She had made it possible for Saffron to complete her degree without having to find employment that would distract her from her studies, and had staunchly supported her friend at every turn.
Glancing up from her morning paper, Elizabeth smiled. Her makeup was done, though her sandy bob was still held in place by pins. “Saff, dear, do you have anything important going on today?”
“No, just going on with Dr. Maxwell’s tasks.” Saffron snatched up a piece of toast—perfectly crunchy and slathered in butter—as she went about fixing herself a cup of coffee. “Why do you ask?”
“You’re wearing earrings.”
She was wearing little pearl earrings, a birthday gift from her mother. “So?”
Elizabeth scoffed. “Darling, you never mind what you wear unless there is a grandparent to defend against or a man to intrigue!” She gasped, red varnished nails glinting as she pressed a hand to her throat dramatically. “Don’t tell me we’re expecting your grandparents!”
Saffron shuddered. “I would never spring that on you without at least a week’s notice. We’d need time to gird our loins.” They may have cut her off financially, but they’d come around to making an effort to be a part of Saffron’s life. A strict, overwhelming part.
“Right then, who is the man?”
Saffron laughed and brushed her fingers off over the sink. “I never said there was a man.”
Elizabeth followed her out of the kitchen and down the hall, her dressing gown swishing around her generous curves. “Surely not that fellow you told me about! He studies bacteria, darling. What sort of job is that?”