Scent of Triumph (49 page)

“Hold it right there,” he said. “Just like that, that’s the way you looked when we ran into one another at the flower shop. That’s the way I always remember you.”

She shook her head as the smile faded from her lips.

“Danielle, I’m sorry if I said something wrong. But you must admit, fate intervened today to bring us together.”

“Fate?”

He shrugged and pushed his hand through his thick hair. “Libby might have mentioned that she was meeting friends here today.”

“I see. Well, we’re all good friends now, aren’t we?”

Jon looked crestfallen, but before he could respond, the sales clerk interrupted. “We’re closing now, sir. Will you be taking these items with you, or would you like us to send them to you?”

Jon arranged for the clothes to be sent to his family’s home, then he and Danielle made their way downstairs.

By the time they emerged from Harrods, snow was falling again. A long line of people waited for taxis.

Jon frowned. “This is an unusually heavy snowfall for London. Look at that queue, we should wait and have a drink, it’ll be easier to get a taxi later.”

Danielle shivered in the dusky blue twilight. “Let’s make that a hot drink, shall we?” The sun had set, and the cold air sliced through her.

“You’ve grown accustomed to California sunshine.” He rubbed her hands in his, warming them for her, and Danielle felt the sensation spread through her limbs.

They ducked into a nearby pub, found a table near the fireplace, and ordered their drinks. As the snow intensified, the room grew crowded with people seeking sanctuary.

Jon looked worried. “This storm is growing worse. You’re not far away, but I’ll certainly have trouble getting home.”

“Where are you living?” Danielle pulled her chair closer to his to allow people to pass behind her.

“About an hour outside of London. I planned to take the train from here, then drive home. I parked my car at the train station. But there’s no way I can cross country roads tonight, not in this weather. The roads won’t be clear.”

“What will you do?”

“There’s no room at my parents’ home, what with the wedding party in residence. Libby’s home is not far away. I’m sure I can spend the night there.”

Danielle nodded. “Perhaps the snow will ease soon.”

“Would you like another drink?”

“Just one more.” The fire was toasty, and she hated the thought of going out into the cold.
Besides, I’m enjoying myself,
she thought, smiling at Jon.

They toasted to their health, then Jon looked at her with curiosity. “There is something I’ve wondered about, Danielle. Why did you stop writing to me?”

She drew back in surprise. “Me? You were the one who stopped writing. I only heard from you once after you left Beverly Hills.”

He shook his head. “When your letters stopped, I thought you had changed your mind.”

Danielle stared at him. She was feeling the effects of the alcohol, and it was making her light-headed. But she knew what she had to say. She had to be honest with him. “I
did
change my mind. You’re married, Jon.”

“I was married before.”

“But the war was on, and I knew you needed support to keep up your spirits.”

“So did you.”

“I suppose I did,” she murmured.

“The war is still on, Danielle, it’s just moved to the home front.”

“Victoria?”

He nodded. “It’s been bloody awful. You can’t imagine.”

“Oh, I believe I can. Cameron was no walk in the park, God rest his soul.”

“Poor old fellow. I was truly sorry to hear about him.” Jon looked at her, concern evident in his eyes. “Are you all right? I mean, since Cameron—”

“I’ll be fine.” Her stomach clenched, and she turned up a corner of her mouth. She leaned forward and touched his hand. “Abigail told me about the baby.”

He shook his head sadly. “You know it’s not my child.”

Danielle entwined her fingers with his, nodding and listening.

“And what’s worse, I don’t think I ever loved Victoria. Not after you.”

She bit her lip. “Jon, don’t....”

“No, hear me out, Danielle. We didn’t talk about any of this when we saw each other in Beverly Hills. I didn’t want to ruin that one perfect day we had together, and it was so unexpected. It was truly heaven, Danielle.”

She smiled sadly. “I really loved being with you, Jon, but that’s all it was. One perfect day.”

“You know it was more than that, Danielle. See, after you married Cameron, nothing mattered any more. So many of my friends had been killed. I really didn’t think I had a chance. The least I could do was to give my family an heir. A noble act, that’s how I saw the marriage. And I have to admit, I felt a sense of pride for a short while, about being the chap who landed Victoria. She was every man’s dream.”

“She
is
beautiful.”

“Not on the inside.” Jon brushed a wisp of hair from Danielle’s forehead.

Danielle smiled softly as their eyes met. “We simply weren’t meant to be, Jon.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Believe it, Jon, it’s easier this way. We’re just good friends.” As she spoke, she felt her stomach recoil against her words.
And I’m lying to myself.

His gaze held hers, and she swore he could read her mind. After a long moment, he spoke. “Then we’d better go.”

They drained their glasses, then rose, pushed through the crowd and stepped outside.

Danielle caught her breath. “Look at the lights of London,” she exclaimed in awe. “They’re back on.”

“That’s right, no more bombs dropping from the sky. We’ve taken back the night, Danielle.” He grinned and waved his hand toward the city. “You’ll see more changes, too. The city is slowly being rebuilt. London is coming back to life, and won’t she be grand?”

They hailed a cab, but the snow impeded their progress, and it seemed to take forever to navigate the short distance to the hotel. When they finally arrived, the driver turned off his meter and said, “That’s it, this is as far as I go tonight.”

“Would you see me to the train station?” Jon asked. “It’s not far.”

The cab driver shook his head. “I’ve got to get home meself. Storm’s just beginning, it is.”

Jon peered up at the Savoy with a wry smile. “Perhaps there’s room at the inn.”

They stamped snow from their feet, then walked inside to inquire at the front desk. Only one suite remained.

“I’ll take it,” Jon said.

The desk clerk took his information. “How long will you be with us, sir?”

“Until the thaw,” he replied with a laugh. He turned to Danielle. “I haven’t any luggage, so it won’t take me long to settle in. How about dinner?”

They stepped onto the elevator, and Danielle inclined her head. “I’ll see.”
She knew she shouldn’t, but....
She got off on her floor.

“I’ll call you in ten minutes.” He leaned out the elevator and whispered to her. “I’m willing to take out the whole family, but really, I’d rather it was just us. As good friends, I promise.”

She laughed. “Ten minutes. I’ll hold you to it.”

When she opened the door, she found that in the adjoining suite Marie had already changed into her evening loungewear, and the girls were having their baths.

“I don’t think we’re going anywhere tonight,” Marie said. “Not with this weather. The girls are so tired, and Nora’s still sick in bed. I’ve already ordered room service. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all, Maman.”

“How was Jon? Handsome man, isn’t he?”

“Hmm. I suppose so.” Danielle remained standing, still wearing her coat.

“So, how is he?”

“What? Oh, fine, Maman. On second thought, I’d like to dine downstairs this evening. I’m not quite ready to retire.”

“By yourself?”

“There’s a pianist I’d love to hear in the lounge.”

Danielle saw Marie threw a sidelong glance at her. “All right. Kiss the girls, and I won’t wait up for you.”

Danielle went to her room to change. Within ten minutes, the phone rang. “Hello?”

“It’s your best friend calling.”

Minutes later, they were seated at dinner. They dined on pheasant and enjoyed an excellent bottle of Chassagne Montrachet wine. As the evening wore on, Danielle became more comfortable with him and found it hard to imagine that this was all they would ever have together.

After dinner, they retired to the lounge for cognac, where they listened to the piano and continued talking. Jon slipped his fingers through hers, and when there was a lull in the conversation, he said, “I have something very important to tell you.”

Danielle moistened her lips and raised her eyes. His gaze was direct, but she met his eyes unwaveringly.

“Victoria and I have a deal. She asked me for a divorce several months ago. I agreed on the condition that we would not announce it until after Abigail’s wedding. I didn’t want the gossip mill to ruin my sister’s happy day.”

Danielle calmly held his gaze, letting his words sink in, guarding her emotions. “What will Victoria do?”

“She’s going to marry her baby’s father. It’s only right.” He shrugged. “I’m not the only chap this happened to during the war.”

“Still, I’m sorry to hear it, Jon. I know it can’t be easy.”

“It’s the right thing to do, for both of us.”

Dishes clattered behind them and they turned. A waitress was beginning to clear the tables.

“I believe they’re throwing us out,” Jon said. “Shall I see you to your room?”

“Please.” But when they stepped onto the elevator, Jon gave the attendant his floor number, and Danielle didn’t protest.
Maybe Jon is right,
she thought.
Maybe this isn’t over.
She tucked her arm through his and watched the floors slip past until they came to his floor.

They stepped out, and Jon withdrew his key from his pocket. “Give me just a few more minutes with you, Danielle. I can’t let you go, not yet. I’ll be a gentleman, I promise.”

“More’s the pity,” she replied with a slight smile, only partly in jest.

He opened the door.

For all their best intentions, as soon as he shut the door, they found themselves in each other’s arms, drinking in the intoxicating scent of one another. They held each other tightly for a long moment, then their lips met, and Danielle’s resolve evaporated. Her coat and purse dropped to the floor.

“Danielle, I have dreamt of this moment for months,” he whispered.

“So have I, my darling.” She nuzzled his neck, drinking in the smell of his skin.

He tilted her chin and cradled her face in his broad hands. “The night is ours,” his voice thick with emotion. “No one else has to know.”

Danielle responded with a kiss, passion flaring within her. In one fluid motion, Jon lifted her and carried her to his bed, placing her in the center.

He trailed a finger along the smooth contours of her face and neck as she lay basking in the moonlight, waiting for him. He bent to her and she pulled him closer, teasing his lips with her tongue before he lowered himself to her.

Danielle had only one thought
. We are meant to be.
She felt heat gathering in her chest, spreading through her torso and into her groin.

Slowly and deliberately, they undressed one another. Danielle caressed Jon’s chest, his back, his thighs, remembering the feel of his skin on hers, tracing scars where he had been wounded on his upper thigh. She kissed each scar, and he moaned in response.

As their fervor increased, Jon pressed her to him until rightly, inevitably, they joined as one. Danielle cried out, her heart expanding with the exquisite fullness of love as waves of emotion crashed over her.

She relished Jon’s every touch, marveling at the depth and intensity of their passionate lovemaking, while his expert strokes aroused her again and again, erupting together in a euphoric sense of pure elation.

Afterward, Jon stroked damp tendrils from her forehead and kissed her softly. “Don’t ever leave me, Danielle.”

“I don’t think I could.”
Never again.
She sighed. Her strong will had softened, become pliable in his hands.

“We’ll find a way, somehow.”

She smiled up at him, feeling his certainty, believing his words. “I know we will.”

Satiated, they rested in the curves of each other’s body, until their longings stirred once again. Over and over, they promised their undying love, until finally, as dawn crept through the windows, Jon fell asleep.

Quietly, Danielle dressed and returned to her room. But as she closed the door, doubt crept between them, and a terrible thought occurred to her.
Had Jon really been truthful with her about the divorce?

She thought of Victoria and the baby, of his family, and hers, and what everyone would think if they knew. This was not a random day in Beverly Hills. This was the rest of their lives. There would be no turning back. She sank to her heels and covered her face with her hands.
Oh, what have I done?

Since childhood, Abigail had dreamed of getting married in the Newell-Grey home. Tonight, on Christmas Eve, feathery snowflakes floated from the heavens with the softness of angel’s tears. Candles flickered in the circular porthole-style windows, brilliant beacons for the guests who were beginning to arrive for the nuptials of Abigail Newell-Grey and Louis V. Silverman.

Upstairs, Danielle fastened the last of the twenty pearl buttons lining the back of Abigail’s wedding dress. “There, now turn around, let me see how it falls on you.”

Abigail swirled in front of the mirror, her face glowing with delight. “How beautiful,” she breathed. “It’s utterly gorgeous, Danielle, you’ve really outdone yourself.”

“You make such a beautiful bride,” Danielle said, feeling true happiness for her friend. “And the dress is yours alone, I’ll never make another like it. No one else could do it justice.”

Danielle had designed the dress to showcase Abigail’s lean, well-toned figure, while minimizing fussy details. The ivory satin, off-the-shoulder gown had a tasteful décolleté, and the fitted bodice featured tiny pleats nipped into a slim fitted waist. The simple design was the perfect frame for the heirloom Edwardian jewelry she wore, treasured family pieces of diamonds and pearls. Abigail turned again, and the expertly draped train swished gracefully behind her.