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Authors: Rebecca Dean

BOOK: The Shadow Queen
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“Here they come!” Corinne put her glass down on the table fronting their cane chairs. “I can always recognize Henry a mile off. He has such a distinctive walk. I’m not sure whom he’s bringing with him, though. Men look all the same at a distance when they are in uniform.”

Wallis didn’t think the three young men with Henry looked all the same. Two of them were exceptionally tall and loose limbed. The third was Henry’s height, five foot ten or so. Suntanned, broad shouldered, and muscular, he held himself well, walking with springy precision, like an athlete in perfect physical condition.

As the men drew nearer, strikingly handsome in crisp white uniforms, she caught her breath. Beneath his officer’s cap, the aviator who had caught her attention had hair almost as dark as her own. The sun glinted on the gold braid signifying his rank, and even before Corinne spoke, she knew he was her aviator of yesterday.

“Dear Lord!” Amusement was back in Corinne’s voice. “Henry’s invited Win Spencer! That means the evening is goin’ to be very lively.”

Wallis made no response. With a great deal of effort she was trying to look carelessly nonchalant.

Seconds later, Henry was saying, “Wallis, allow me to introduce Lieutenants Archie Crosby, Robert Richard Allinson, and Earl Winfield Spencer.”

Rising to her feet, Wallis smiled and shook hands with Archie Crosby and Robert Richard Allinson. Then, with her heart feeling as if it were beating fast and light in her throat, she shook hands with Win.

He flashed her the same smile he had flashed at her yesterday, from the cockpit of his plane. It had the same electrifying effect.

His peaked hat was now tucked in the crook of his free arm and his military
en brosse
haircut suited a face that was hard-boned, the jawline strong and assertive. Beneath a close-cropped mustache his mouth was unyieldingly straight and excitingly sensual.

It was the face of a forceful and sophisticated man; a face far removed from those of the fresh-faced boys just out of college that she was accustomed to. Even John Jasper, who, with his gypsy-dark good looks, had always been distinctive, hadn’t possessed magnetism on such a scale.

As Win continued to hold her hand, and as Wallis made no attempt to remove it, Henry cleared his throat.

Well able to take a hint, Win dropped Wallis’s hand, saying as he did so, “Miss Warfield and I met briefly yesterday, sir. Though from a distance a little too far to allow for a proper introduction.”

Wallis felt her cheeks burn. No one before had had such an immediate and disturbing effect on her, and she could well understand his reputation as a lady-killer.

“Win was out flyin’, Henry,” Corinne said, putting her bewildered husband into the picture. “As Skinny and I were nearing Pensacola by car, he flew over the top of us and Wallis gave him the longest wave in aviation history.”

“A history that is only a handful of years old, Wallis.” Henry fell into step beside her as Corinne led the way into their home. “It’s hard to imagine, seeing seaplanes taking off and landing on the battle cruisers in the bay, that it’s only a little over ten years ago that Orville and Wilbur Wright conquered the air with the first successful flight of a heavier-than-air flying machine.”

Silver cutlery and cut-glass wineglasses shone on the dining table’s lace-covered surface, and a bowl of pink and yellow roses gave off a light, delicate fragrance. For such a small informal dinner party there were no place cards, and as it was obvious Henry and Corinne would seat themselves at opposite ends of the table, Wallis wondered whether she should seat herself at Corinne’s right hand or Henry’s left hand. Uppermost in her thoughts was which of the three lieutenants would then sit next to her.

“This end of the table, I think, Wally,” Henry said, drawing a chair out for her.

He was about to suggest that Robert Allinson then sit next to her, but Win was too quick for him. As Archie Crosby pulled a chair out for Corinne, Win casually laid his hand on the back of the chair next to Wallis’s.

Seconds later, seating himself after Corinne had sat down, he said, “Now, Miss Warfield, you will be able to tell me all about yourself without the rest of the table hearing.”

His eyes were bold and black and frankly appraising.

It was an expression she had seen before in her cousin Henry’s eyes and in John Jasper’s eyes. Though both had been handsome young men, neither had possessed Win Spencer’s overpowering masculinity, and Wallis was overcome with the sensation of entering deep and dangerous waters.

She didn’t care.

Deep and dangerous waters were exactly what she wanted, and if she could keep this rugged, tough-looking naval officer interested in her, she was going to do so.

“There’s little to tell, Lieutenant Spencer.” She gave a teasing shrug of her shoulder. “And nothing that would be of interest to you, for I neither fly seaplanes nor want to.”

He cracked with laughter. “Flying seaplanes isn’t for women—though I rather think that with the right tuition you’d make a good job of it.”

“I make a good job of everything I set out to do, Lieutenant Spencer.”

“I imagine you do, Miss Warfield.”

Though the words were innocuous enough, the way he said them brought a fresh wave of heat to Wallis’s cheeks, especially as he was seated so close to her that his strongly muscled thigh was pressed hard against the soft silk of her skirt.

It was a flirtation steamily outside her experience and one that could be continued no longer now that the general chatter had lulled and they would be overheard. Mindful of how odd and impolite it would be not to pay Lieutenant Allinson and Lieutenant Crosby attention—and not moving her leg away from Win Spencer’s—she smiled across at Robert Allinson.

“When did you become fascinated with flying, Lieutenant?” she asked as the two extra maids Corinne had engaged for the evening ferried dishes of scallops, shrimp, artichoke, tomatoes, and pasta in from the kitchen.

“I guess it was ’bout the same time Win did, Miss Warfield.” He shot her a crumpled grin. “We were both serving aboard the USS
Nebraska
when it became obvious what a large part flying was going to play in the Navy of the future.”

“So Rob tagged after me when I entered the Navy’s flight training program,” Win interjected, “and I’ve still not shaken him off my tail.”

There was laughter, and then Henry said, “Win was only the twentieth naval pilot to receive his wings.”

“With Rob trailing behind at number twenty-five,” Archie Crosby added, enjoying the chance to have a dig at his best buddy.

Robert Allinson grinned across at her. “Take no notice of these two clowns, Miss Warfield. They’re only jealous because I’m the good-looking one.”

There was more good-natured laughter and Wallis joined in with it, even though it was patently obvious to her that where good looks were concerned, neither Rob nor Archie were remotely in Win’s league.

“You can see why I get so bored, Skinny,” Corinne whispered to her as, when the meal ended, they left the dining room for the candlelit sitting room. “Flying, flying, flying. It’s all they ever talk about. Henry even talks about it in his sleep!”

Wallis merely smiled. Corinne didn’t have to be interested in flying in order to catch her man. She was already safely married. If Wallis wanted to keep Win Spencer interested in her, she needed to be knowledgeable enough about flying to hold an intelligent conversation with him on the subject.

Knowing herself as she did, she knew she could succeed in that aim as easily as falling off a log.

Chapter Eleven

F
or the next few days Wallis nearly drove Corinne mad with her questions about flying, flight training programs, and what exactly Win and his fellow officers’ duties consisted of.

“Land sakes, Skinny!” Corinne threw the core of the apple she had been eating onto the sand, where it was immediately scavenged by a seagull. “You’d think you were thinking of taking up flying yourself!”

They were on the perimeter of the area forbidden to civilian personnel, watching, as they did every morning, training flights taking off and landing in the bay.

“And is Win Spencer Pensacola’s senior flying instructor?” Wallis asked, ignoring Corinne’s last remark.

Corinne shot her a bemused look. “He is, but don’t get the hots for Win, Skinny. He’s way out of your league. Married women are far more in his line—though not, I slightly regret to say, me.” The laughter that was never far from Corinne’s voice was there in full measure as she added, “Even Win isn’t so rash as to try and bed the wife of the air station’s commandant!”

They both broke into convulsive laughter and were still laughing when Rob Allinson strolled over to them.

“What’s the joke, ladies?” he asked good-naturedly. “Anything you can cut me in on?”

Wallis, struggling to keep a straight face, said, “Absolutely not, Lieutenant Allinson. And why aren’t you dressed for flying? I thought you all took trainees up every day.”

“Today is my day for training recruits in signal and radio work, and we don’t kick off for another half hour.” Reluctantly he dragged his eyes away from Wallis and toward Corinne. “What are your plans for the day, Mrs. Mustin? Have you thought of perhaps taking Miss Warfield on a ferry ride over to Santa Rosa island?”

Corinne, by now once again in control of herself, said in the lazy voice that betrayed Montague connections to porticoed plantation houses in a way Wallis’s rarely did, “I hadn’t, Lieutenant Allinson, but it’s a very good idea, though not, I think, for today.”

She turned to Wallis. “Santa Rosa is a great place for picnics, Skinny, but picnics are best when a group has gotten together. I’ll speak to Henry about it this evening. If we can make a party up and go over for an evening picnic, it will be great fun.”

She flashed Rob a smile full of easy charm. “And seeing as it was your idea we go to Santa Rosa, you, of course, will have to be one of the party, Lieutenant Allinson.”

He flushed slightly. “That’s real kind of you, Mrs. Mustin. I’ll look forward to it.” His eyes were back on Wallis again. “Good-bye, Miss Warfield. It was nice speaking with you again.”

As he walked away from them, Corinne raised her eyebrows. “Well, well. You’ve certainly made a conquest there. And a very suitable one. The Allinsons are a very well-connected Virginia family. An engagement there would please your mother immensely.”

“I’m not looking to get engaged, Corinne.”

It was, of course, a fib; every girl her age was looking to get engaged, because there was no other future for a girl but marriage, yet the only person she had wanted to become engaged to—and had believed she
was
unofficially engaged to—was John Jasper, and she hadn’t yet quite gotten over John Jasper.

Being so strongly attracted to Lieutenant Earl Winfield Spencer was helping her get over him, for she was thinking less and less of John Jasper and more and more of Win.

She wondered if Win’s family, like Rob’s, was also well connected and couldn’t imagine otherwise. Young men who had gone to the Annapolis naval academy didn’t come from nondescript backgrounds.

“I said,” she was suddenly aware of Corinne saying with exaggerated patience, “and I said it for the third time, have we to go to Electric Park, the local amusement park? Henry won’t like it if we go without a male escort, but if I speak to him he’ll rustle an officer up to accompany us so that we look suitably respectable.”

The officer Henry Mustin obligingly rustled up was Lieutenant Archie Crosby. As Archie had been good company on the night of the dinner party, both Wallis and Corinne were delighted.

“Though I refuse to spend the afternoon hearing you refer to Wallis as Miss Warfield, and Wallis referring to you as Lieutenant Crosby,” Corinne said as she and Wallis stepped into the motorcar Henry had provided for the three of them. “You are both too young for such formalities. Continue calling me Mrs. Mustin, Archie. If you didn’t Henry would have apoplexy, but from now on I shall call you Archie, and so will Wallis.”

They had a wonderful time at Electric Park. They rode the roller coaster—Wallis and Corinne screaming and clinging to the safety bar for dear life. They went on the Ferris wheel. They threw balls at coconuts. They nervously ventured on the Shoot the Chute, Corinne and Wallis not caring that their skirts would be saturated by the time they tottered off it. They recovered their breath on a miniature mountain train ride and finished the afternoon with a sedate ride on a carousel.

“It’s been the most wonderful afternoon I can remember,” Corinne said, hugging Wallis’s arm as they made their way back to the car. “And it’s all been thanks to you, Skinny. Henry would never have allowed me to come here without him if it weren’t that he knew I wanted to show you a good time and he was too busy to bring us himself.”

“Would he have?” Wallis asked as Archie opened the rear door of the Ford for them.

“Would he have what, Skinny darling?”

“Brought us here himself? I just can’t imagine Henry on any of the rides—he’s far too dignified.”

Corinne tucked stray tendrils of blond hair back into her pompadour hairstyle and readjusted her hat. “No, you’re right. He wouldn’t have come. Museums are more Henry’s thing than amusement parks. That’s the tricky thing about marrying an older man, Skinny. Your ideas of a good time don’t often coincide.”

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