The From Paris With Love And Regency Season Of Secrets Ultimate Collection. Кэрол Мортимер

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СКАЧАТЬ style="font-size:15px;">      ‘Not at all, dear. As you say, age is only an attitude.’

      Charlotte caught Connor’s gaze and his expression said it all. This was a done deal and there was absolutely no point trying to make changes now. She was now faced with the prospect of being alone with Nico for a dinner that might go on for hours. An intimate, romantic kind of dinner. Her heart sank. One strong cocktail was not going to be enough.

      Nico had to admire the persuasive powers of older women. Tables had to be at a premium on the train, even if there was more than one sitting for dinner, but here they were at a table that could seat four people and it was only set for two.

      It was beautifully set with crisp, white linen, sparkling silverware and immaculate crystal that caught the soft light of the Tiffany lamp on the window side of the table. The carriage might be crowded with other diners but it felt like he and Charlotte were enclosed in a bubble of their own. He was glad that she hadn’t had a different dress to wear because this silver sheath was gorgeous and so very appropriate for the season. It made her eyes look like a dark shade of silver instead of grey. Or was that because they were catching such a warm glow from the light?

      Or perhaps it was the champagne he had ordered. She certainly seemed to be enjoying the Moët, even if she wasn’t clearing her plate with each delicious course that arrived. He had polished off the entrée and then demolished the main course of traditional roast turkey with chestnut stuffing.

      Conversation had proved easier than he’d expected, having been deprived of Jendi’s company. They’d started out with the practical matter of sleeping arrangements for the night.

      ‘I’ll stay in the bar for a while,’ Nico had told Charlotte. ‘And then I’ll come back to the cabin and sleep on the seat. You can close the connecting door when you go to bed.’

      He’d asked if she knew what would happen tomorrow.

      ‘We get to Paris around dawn,’ she’d told him. ‘When we get to the end of the French line for the Orient Express, we have to get off and there are special buses that we stay on for the channel crossing. The English branch of the train takes us into Victoria Station. I think we get in at about five p.m.’

      As the plates for the main course were taken away, Charlotte allowed her champagne glass to be refilled. Did her smile look a little forced as she held it up to Nico in a toast?

      ‘What will you do?’ she asked brightly. ‘When we’ve arrived back in London? For Christmas Eve, I mean.’

      Nico shrugged. ‘I expect I’ll go to work and catch up on any inpatients. I’m covering a big area for the next few days. I like to give my colleagues as much time as possible to be with their families over Christmas. And you? What will you be doing?’

      Charlotte turned her head to look out the window, although there was nothing to see in the darkness.

      ‘I’ll go out to Gran’s. Her estate is a good hour out of London. I’ll stay with her for Christmas Day, of course, and then it’ll be time to face up to what needs facing up to.’

      Jendi’s cancer. Dio…but it was going to be a difficult time ahead for Charlotte. Nico wanted to reach across the table and catch her hands. To offer to be there for her as a friend in the weeks or months ahead.

      But this faux relationship wasn’t supposed to continue, was it? Charlotte wouldn’t want it to. Having her in a committed relationship with a potential family in the future might be at the top of her grandmother’s bucket list but Nico could still hear the vehemence in Charlotte’s voice when she’d declared that it was never going to happen.

      So he said nothing. Instead, he followed Charlotte’s example and stared out of the window. There were sparkles of light swirling outside in a mesmerising kaleidoscope.

      ‘Look at that,’ he exclaimed. ‘It’s snowing. It’ll be a white Christmas for some people.’

      ‘I love a white Christmas,’ Charlotte said softly. ‘It makes you feel like you’re living inside a Christmas card. I think the best Christmas I ever had was one where Gran and I got completely snowed in and the electricity went off. We ended up cooking the chipolatas that were supposed to go in with the turkey on sticks on the open fire. I was only about nine but I was so impressed that Gran knew how to do stuff like get the fire going and cook sausages.’

      ‘Sounds special.’

      ‘What’s the best Christmas you remember, Nico? Was it white?’

      ‘No. It never snowed in our part of Italy.’ Funny that to remember his best Christmas he automatically wiped out any year after he’d been whisked off to Ireland. ‘It would get cold, though. I think the best Christmas I can remember was outside. We had a terrace with a long wooden table that was under grapevines. In the summer it was leafy and cool and in the winter there was an open fireplace big enough to roast an ox. For some reason we had Christmas dinner outside that year. Possibly because so many family members had gathered. There were aunts and uncles and cousins I never knew I had.’

      ‘How old were you?’

      ‘About six.’

      ‘Did you have turkey?’

      Nico shook his head. ‘That wasn’t traditional. We have the feast of the seven fishes on Christmas Eve and then on Christmas Day we have lots of pasta and then roast meat like chicken or beef. And potatoes.’ He frowned. The food hadn’t been what had made that Christmas memorable.

      ‘There was music,’ he continued softly. ‘My father was at the head of the table and he was so happy. Between courses he would drag my mother away from the kitchen and dance with her in front of the fire. There were so many people. So much laughter. So much love…’

      ‘Family.’ The word was a whisper and Charlotte’s eyes were as bright as he’d ever seen them when Nico turned from the view of the snow. ‘It’s what Christmas is all about, isn’t it?’

      ‘It was once…’ Nico had to clear his throat. The memory of that particular Christmas was disturbing because it evoked a yearning he’d thought he’d put behind him many, many years ago. Part of the heartbreak he would never want to inflict on a child. Or a woman. Or have inflicted on himself ever again.

      Dessert of a classic plum duff with crème anglaise and brandy butter came and went with a noticeably more sombre mood at their table. It was a relief when a steward came to tell him that Lady Geraldine was ready to be escorted back to her cabin whenever it was convenient for him.

      ‘Or I can arrange another escort?’ The steward tilted his head to include Charlotte. ‘If you and your fiancé wish to stay longer?’

      ‘No.’ It was Charlotte who spoke up quickly. ‘We can finish now.’ She didn’t meet Nico’s eyes. ‘If that’s all right with you, Nico?’

      ‘Sì. Of course it is.

      The last thing Charlotte expected when she returned to her suite after helping her grandmother get undressed and settled into her bunk for the night was to find Nico still there.

      She had thought he would be long gone. Having a nightcap in the bar and ready to wait until he thought she was safely asleep before coming back to get what rest he could on the seat in this compartment. Not that she expected to get much sleep herself but СКАЧАТЬ