Part 15 (1/2)
”No, I live here. I'm going to visit friends. This is awfully good of you, sir.”
”My name is Peter Petrey. And you are ... ?”
”Jonathan Wilks.”
”I am glad of the company on such a filthy night, Mr. Wilks.”
”Do call me Jonathan, everyone does.”
They talked about plays they had seen and poetry they had read. Peter began not to notice the fog. He felt he was enclosed in a golden bubble with this dazzling youth.
Just before they reached Peter's house, the young man stopped. ”This is where I leave you.”
”Here is my card,” said Peter. ”Do call. I'll wait to see you get in safely.”
Jonathan knocked at the door. Then he came back down the front steps. ”They don't seem to be at home. I must have forgotten the day. This is Friday, is it not?”
”No, it's Thursday.”
”Oh dear.”
”Look, come in with me and have a sherry while I dress.”
When Peter arrived slightly late and out of breath, Rose noticed he seemed to s.h.i.+ne with an inner glow. Oh dear, she thought, I hope I haven't made a mistake about him. He looks like a man in love.
Peter had never been in better form than during the dinner. He told jokes, he told gossip, and he delighted the company.
Shrewd Daisy watched him with anxious eyes. I hope it's Rose that has given him this extra sparkle, she thought. I hope it isn't anyone it shouldn't be.
Daisy's concerns grew when, after dinner, she heard Peter tell Rose that he was going away on Friday and would not return until the following Monday.
”Where?” asked Rose. ”Anywhere pleasant?”
”Just visiting some friends.”
”You will miss the ball tomorrow.”
”Oh dear. Can you find someone to escort you? Captain Cathcart, perhaps?”
Rose raised her brows in amazement. ”Have you forgotten I ended my engagement to the captain and became engaged to you?”
”No, my dearest. It is just that it is very important that I go away this weekend.”
”What is so important?”
Peter manufactured a laugh. ”You sound like a wife already. Ah, there is Lady Simpson looking for me.”
He darted off.
Daisy joined Rose. ”I heard that.”
”Most odd,” said Rose. ”Just a day ago he seemed to delight in my company.”
”Let's just hope he isn't delighting in anyone else's.”
Peter and Jonathan went down to Oxford the following day. The fog had disappeared, but Oxford was shrouded in a hard frost. They walked along by the icy river where the last leaves hung rimed with the frost, which glinted like rubies under a hard red sun. Peter kept glancing at his companion, becoming even more and more besotted. Those large eyes that he had first seen in the fog were green with flecks of gold. His black eyelashes were thick and curled at the ends. He had a wide-brimmed hat perched rakishly on his golden curls.
Peter considered him too perfect for any carnal thoughts. His s.e.xual adventures had been very few and he had avoided that brothel in Westminster which catered to tastes like his own. Discretion was all-important. Discovery meant prison and hard labour.
They had a pleasant dinner that evening at the Rose and Crown. When they had finished, Peter dabbed his mouth with his napkin. ”Now what shall we do?”
Jonathan leaned forward and fixed him with a glowing look. ”I know somewhere in Oxford where we can end the evening ... together. It's not much of a hotel, but it would serve our purpose.”
Peter's mouth went dry. ”Y-you c-can't mean ...” he stuttered. That beautiful mouth smiled at him lazily.
”Oh, but that's exactly what I mean.”
Rose sat at the ball and watched the dancers. Now that she was engaged to Peter and seemed happy with him, the heiress-hunters of society had decided to leave her alone.
The next dance, a waltz, was announced. She looked at her dance card. Nothing for the next dance and then a few dances with elderly friends of her father.
She looked up and found Harry bowing before her. ”Lady Rose, may I have the honour?”
They moved together on the dance floor. ”Have you any more news about Dolly's death?” asked Rose.
”Nothing, I'm afraid. Have you?”
Rose thought of Roger but decided to remain silent. She shook her head.
”Where is your fiance tonight?”
”He has gone off to see friends.”
”That is surely most unlike him. I would have thought him a dutiful escort.”
”He usually is.”
”Are you sure you want to go through with this marriage? Don't you want children?”