Page 86 of The Last Night in London

I smiled. “Alice fromAlice in Wonderland.I know that one because I read it to my sisters over and over. I practically have it memorized.”

A corner of his mouth lifted. “Three sisters, correct?”

I looked at him. “I didn’t expect you to remember.”

“Knoxie, the one getting married in December, Sarah Frances, and Amanda, I believe.” He wasn’t smiling or frowning, but his expression wasn’t one I was familiar with.

Unsure of what to say, I lifted my glass between us and took another sip.

“I thought you said you didn’t like Scotch.”

“I said it’s not my drink of choice. If you can get past the throat scalding, the aftereffect is kind of nice.” I took another sip. Remembering, I asked, “Didn’t you bring the valise from your mother’s attic? I looked for it but couldn’t find it.”

“I did,” he said, frowning. “But I left it in the Rover. I can bring it up tomorrow, if that suits.”

I nodded slowly, my gaze focused on the window and the moonlit night outside. I was reminded of Precious and her box-shaped purse, the feel of something shifting inside it as I moved it to the dresser. I pulled out Graham’s photo from my back pocket, and held it in my palm for Colin to see. “I think Precious is using Eva’s purse to hold on to special mementos. She was going through it when I came into her room tonight, and this fell on the floor.”

Colin took the photograph, narrowing his eyes as he studied it. “I really don’t see the resemblance. Maybe a little around the nose?”

I took the photograph from him, rolling my eyes. “Oh, for crying out loud, Colin. You’re the spitting image.”

He gave me a half smile. “And didn’t you say something about thinking Graham was hot?”

“Actually, that was Arabella. Although I may have agreed with her.” He was looking at me oddly, so I quickly took another sip of my drink.

Gently, he wrested it from my grasp. “I think you’ve had enough, Madison. Especially if you’re not used to it.”

I wanted to argue, but my mind was whirring with the image of Precious holding the handbag. Her telling me it held her memories. The photograph on the floor. “Do you remember where we put the box of purses? Arabella said she didn’t want to see them until most of the outfits had been decided upon, but I think we’ve reached that point.”

“Yes, I already put them back downstairs in the storage unit, but I can bring them back up.”

“That would be great. I think we should go through the purses. See if anything was left inside any of them.” I grinned giddily, unsure if it was because of the Scotch or my brilliant idea. “I could find all sorts of day-to-day things to complement the exhibition and my article. Do you think you could bring them up tomorrow, too?”

“Certainly. I can even do it before work.”

Without thinking, I threw my arms around his neck. “You’re brilliant—thank you!”

His face was close enough that I could count the freckles on the bridge of his nose. Four. “And hot, too, don’t forget.”

I thought I should laugh, that I should throw my head back and make light of our little conversation. But the way his eyes sparked, and the moonlight outside, and the slow ticking of the mantel clock made me pause. Made my gaze drift down from his eyes to his beautiful mouth, forced my hands to pull his head toward mine and kiss him.

He let out a breath, a small surrender, and then his hands were pulling me closer, or maybe it was me pulling him closer, and my hands were in his hair and his lips were kissing me back and my fingers were tugging on his shirt. I wanted to tell myself that it was the Scotch that warmed my blood, that took my heart and held it carefully, that reminded me of the promise of the girl I’d once been.

The mantel clock chimed, breaking the spell, reminding me of the woman I now was. I became aware of the desk pressed against my back, letters falling softly to the floor. And Colin kissing my neck, his fingers sliding up my bare skin. I put my hand on his chest, and he stopped, lifted his head, a question in his eyes.

“This isn’t a good idea.”

He looked at me for a long moment, then stood, pulling me up gently so that we faced each other but didn’t touch. I found myself looking at his nose, counting to four over and over in my head. Anything to avoid looking into his eyes. “If you think you have feelings for me, don’t,” I said.

“I believe it might be too late for me to reconsider.” His lips quirked, and the blood swished faster in my veins.

I shook my head. “It would be a huge mistake. I’m not... meant to have relationships.”

“Why? Because you believe you’re destined to die young? Even though the science shows that carrying that rogue gene you inherited from your mother is no guarantee of anything?”

I blinked while his words bounced around in my head, trying to find a place to land. But I’d already spent half of my life accepting how it would end, and my convinction was too deeply rooted now to allow alternative thinking. “I’m not meant to grow old. I won’t do that to the people I love.”

He considered me. “Sounds like you’ve been doing a lot of chair rocking—or whatever your aunt Cassie calls it.”