“Bob and I got transferred there right after I met you at the dance. We’ve been there ever since, helping to get the new airfield operational. But how did you end up here?”
“I grew up in this village. Wellingford Hall is Audrey’s home. We had a two-day furlough and decided to come home.”
“I’ve been here for about two months now, and I have to say that aside from our work at the airfield, it’s been pretty boring. It’s a little too quiet for me at that grand old house.”
“Then you probably haven’t found it much livelier here in town. Where are you headed?”
“Just to the pub for a game of darts—I’m the reigning champion, by the way—and to drink warm beer. Haven’t you British discovered refrigeration yet?”
“We like it warm.”
He grimaced and shivered dramatically. “Hey, come to the pub with me, Eve. You’re much easier to look at than those other goofs I’m with.”
Eve took a moment to consider his offer. Louis made her laugh. And laughing helped her forget. She wasn’t likely to have many laughs with Audrey at the manor house. The village was where she really belonged, not Wellingford.
“If I come for a drink, do you promise to protect me from those ‘goofs,’ as you call them? I could have gone to London on my furlough if I wanted to be leered at and groped.”
“I’ll be your guardian and protector.” He held out his arm and she took it, smiling up at him as they walked to the pub. It was stuffed with Americans, laughing loudly, drinking pints, playing a rowdy game of darts. Louis was chivalrous as he fended off his fellow Americans. Eve greeted the pub owner, an old friend who gave them free pints, before taking Louis to a small corner table to talk. Two elderly farmers who had known Eve’s daddy stopped by the table to greet her on their way out, and she made a mental list of all the other friends and neighbors she wanted to see during her visit, villagers she’d known forever and who’d been kind to her when Mum died. She had been too numb with grief at the time to thank them.
“Hey, your fiancé doesn’t have spies here in town, does he?” Louis asked after the farmers left. He leaned across the table to speak softly. “He’s not going to send his henchmen after me for sitting with you, is he?”
“No, you don’t need to worry about Alfie.” Her eyes suddenly filled with tears. She couldn’t explain why.
“Oh no. Did I say the wrong thing, Eve?”
“Not at all. It’s just that . . . Alfie and I aren’t engaged. And the truth, which I’m slowly learning to accept, is that we probably never will be.” She took a sip of her drink, desperate to think of a way to change the subject. Nothing came to her. She remembered how uneasy she felt walking through the front door of Wellingford Hall earlier, yet how good and natural it was to greet Robbins with a hug. Audrey had offered her Alfie’s room but Eve couldn’t sleep there. Her room on the third floor was home. Her friends in the village, not Alfie’s friends, were the people she belonged with.
“Did you break up with him or something?” Louis asked. His concern seemed genuine as he studied her with his clear blue eyes. “I’m willing to listen if you want to tell me.” With no one else to confide in, she decided to trust Louis.
“I used to work at Wellingford Hall,” she said with a sigh. “As a servant. My friend Audrey grew up there. It’s her family’s home. Her daddy has more money than King George. We’re good friends, though, in spite of our different backgrounds.”
“I can tell that you are. Like Robert and me. And his family has way more money than mine does.”
“Then you’ll understand if I tell you that my boyfriend, Alfie, is Audrey’s brother.”
Louis gave a low whistle as he leaned back in his chair. “But that shouldn’t be a problem if you love each other, should it?”
“Before he shipped overseas, Alfie told me he loved me. But he won’t marry me as long as his father is alive because he would lose his inheritance.”
“He sounds like a jerk.”
“That’s not completely fair. Alfie wouldn’t know how to live without his money. He and the rest of the gentry grew up in huge manor houses with dozens of servants. He would be at a loss without them. There’s the idea that blue bloods are somehow above the masses of people like me. Before the war, King Edward had to choose between marrying an American divorcée or reigning as the king of England. He chose love. But the aristocracy has shunned him for it ever since. Alfie would face the same rejection if he married me. I was his family’s scullery maid, for goodness’ sakes.”