Page 30

‘She doesn’t want to marry him, sir, nor any of the others chosen,’ Matthew stated flatly.

‘And has she indicated she will marry you?’ Charles asked, his peppered and bushy eyebrows lifting dramatically.

‘She hasn’t refused me and earlier today Alex seemed to be warming to the idea. I have high hopes, Sir Charles.’

‘Get a move on, then, lad. I can assure you Cameron will be back in Britain on a mission.’

5

They were seated in the colonnaded section of York’s fashionable Assembly Rooms beneath the double row of chandeliers that were the glittering hallmark of the building. The crystal droplets winked constantly at her, as though they were not catching the light so much as her attention and flinging the sparkle and spotlight her way. Matthew couldn’t have chosen a more public place for upper-class chins to wag about seeing Alex Frobisher dining with an eligible, wealthy newcomer to town. Waiters moved noiselessly around the dozen Doric columns of red-veined marble with their caps picked out in darkest green and subtle gilding. By day the equally impressive rows of tall, dozen-paned windows of Georgian perfection that lined the upper space of this chamber flooded it with sunlight. Now they were dark mirrors reflecting the sparkle of the glass lighting.

‘Did you know it’s now against the law to eat more than three courses in a restaurant?’

Matthew shook his head, amused. ‘I’m sure your mother’s friend Mrs Trubshaw will barely finish one. She cannot keep her gaze from us,’ he complained without heat.

Alex looked downstairs again to where two of her mother’s friends dined and made no disguise of being her overseers for a night out with a gentleman. ‘Did you really think I’d be allowed out without being chaperoned . . . even from a distance? Really, you men are so lucky to have freedoms.’

‘I would give you all the freedom you wanted,’ Matthew replied, forcing her attention back to him. He paused, allowing his silence to impress the point before he continued conversationally. ‘I thought the mutton to be delicious,’ he commented, sipping his port. ‘Mmm, that piquant anchovy and caper sauce was superb.’

‘A very good choice, thank you,’ she said, ‘although as a general comment, I do prefer to make my own.’ She said this lightly, arching an eyebrow in a habit acquired from her father. ‘I feel guilty eating out, and so well . . . you know, rations and all that.’

He nodded. ‘We won’t do this again if it makes you uncomfortable.’

Alex sighed. ‘I don’t mean to be a wet blanket about it all but oyster croutons followed by stuffed mutton while our soldiers are eating bully beef feels desperately unfair.’ She sipped the coffee, wondering how long their stocks of this particular treat might last. She tried to banish thoughts of war, instead looking up at the twenty-strong swoops of illuminated electric candles on each chandelier. ‘They’ve been cleaned, going by their fresh glimmer,’ she said and Matthew followed her gaze.

He nodded. ‘This is straight out of a Jane Austen novel,’ he admitted.

‘Oh, have you read her? I’ve devoured them all.’

‘Yes, indeed. I do like Pride and Prejudice . . . all those misunderstandings and subterfuge.’

She smiled. ‘This chamber was originally built for those very country dances that Mr Darcy might have disapproved of.’

‘No, much too swanky to earn his disapproval,’ Matthew countered, making a tutting sound. ‘Actually, I feel a lot like Darcy,’ he remarked, fixing her with a firm gaze.

‘How so?’ she wondered, reaching for the tiny cocoa-dusted biscuit that had been served in place of dessert that they’d both opted against. She could imagine its drying sensation on her tongue before she’d taken a bite of the rich, chocolate-scented treat.

‘I fear my marriage proposal has fallen on deaf ears.’

The biscuit never made it to her mouth. ‘Now, that’s just not true,’ Alex said, setting it back down on the saucer. The cocoa left a smudge like a soft bruise on her fingers.

‘How long do you need to consider it?’ he asked.

‘A bit longer, perhaps. Why the hurry?’

‘Because your father told me last night that someone by the name of Duncan is soon returning on leave and will no doubt be pressing you for a similar decision. I’d prefer my proposition to be the frontrunner.’

She bit the inside of her cheek. Was it really time to make what felt like a momentous decision?

Matthew dipped his gaze. ‘I’m sorry, I wanted this dinner to be about you and to wish you well on your new adventure.’

‘It has been. I feel thoroughly spoiled, dear Matthew.’

Music struck up and Alex peered across the room to the other colonnaded area, a mirror image, and smiled. ‘Oh, how lovely. It’s a small chamber ensemble; I didn’t know they played music in the evening here.’

‘You’re right, I think. They don’t normally,’ he remarked. ‘The thing is, Alex, I heard today that I might be returning to Bristol sooner than planned.’

She snapped her attention back. ‘How soon?’