Princess Elizabeth's Spy(82)

“Maggie, please meet Christopher Boothby, a friend from Cambridge.” Gregory’s voice was tired and sounded as though it were coming from far away.

Maggie offered her hand. “Quite the reunion  , isn’t it?” she said.

“A pleasure to meet you, Miss Hope.” He had a touch of an accent—or was it an inflection?—she couldn’t quite place.

The Grand Reception Room was crowded with guests, and as Maggie and David walked into the room, the orchestra swelled into “You Stepped Out of a Dream.” Maggie scanned the crowd and saw Hugh, standing with Frain at the room’s edge. They exchanged a secret smile before studiously ignoring each other.

As the swirling melody of the violins mingled with the sounds of conversation and laughter, David swung Maggie into his arms and they began to dance, her cheek fitting comfortably against his neck. “You smell very nice,” she said.

“Blenheim Bouquet,” he replied, giving her a spin. “There may be a war on, but that’s no excuse not to stay fresh.”

Maggie laughed. She remembered how, even in the midst of the worst air raids, David always looked impeccably pulled together. She looked around at the other guests. There were high-ranking officials in dress uniform with gold braid and ribbons and medals, of course, and ladies in patriotic hues—cardinal feather red, the blue of a sailor’s collar, the white of freshly fallen snow—their hair done up in diamond tiaras or pearl combs, wearing long twenty-button gloves. The room itself was decorated with velvety crimson hothouse roses and a huge Christmas tree in the corner, lit with colored wax candles in gilded holders, and covered in artificial snow, wrapped gifts, toys, and sweets. The effect was magical.

“This way,” David said, deftly spinning her through the crowd, away from a statuesque Countess, her curves straining at ruby satin, sagging neck wrapped in yellow diamonds. “It’s a shame that once women are in a position to own jewels like that, they no longer have the necks for it,” he mused.

Maggie saw Gregory with his champagne, sitting alone at one of the tables near the perimeter of the dance floor, in a world of his own.

“Gregory looks lonely,” she said, indicating with her chin.

“Already looking for a new partner, Maggie?” David teased. “I’m crushed.”

She gave his arm a gentle smack. “I thought maybe there was some … frisson last night. I was wondering if anything happened.”

“Nothing yet,” David replied. “Work, you know. But maybe tonight …”

“Do you think—do you think he’s all right? I noticed he’s drinking quite a lot, even more than he usually does.”

“He’s a veteran. He’s been through hell. And he’ll be back with the Air Force soon enough. Let the man relax and have some fun.”

“All right,” Maggie said, allowing herself to be convinced. “Then perhaps we should join him?”

“I like the way you think, my dear.” David spun her to the table.

They sat down in delicate gold chairs as the orchestra segued into Noël Coward’s “If Love Were All.” Gregory sprang to his feet. “Maggie, you look lovely,” he said, kissing her gloved hand.

“Perfect evening,” David enthused, taking a seat and motioning to a waiter with a silver tray of champagne coupes.

As the castle’s clocks all chimed midnight, the orchestra segued into “Auld Lang Syne.” Around her, the guests stopped to sing the Robert Burns words: “Should auld acquaintance be forgot, and never brought to mind? Should auld acquaintance be forgot, and auld lang syne?”

Her thoughts went out to John. Wherever he was.

Gregory got up and stalked away, heading for the French doors leading to the gardens.

He looked upset.

“I’ve got it,” David whispered in Maggie’s ear and then followed after. “For auld lang syne, my jo, for auld lang syne, we’ll take a cup o’ kindness yet, for auld lang syne.” Maggie had always found the song sad, and around her she heard voices crack and men wipe at their eyes. The war wasn’t even that old, and yet so many weren’t coming home.

David followed Gregory through carpeted hallways and then outside, to the North Terrace, overlooking playing fields and Eton. It was freezing outside. As his eyes adjusted to the night, David shivered in his dinner jacket. The only sound was the faint music from the party and the creak of bare tree branches blown by the wind. The stars in the dazzling darkness seemed close enough to touch.

Near a low stone wall punctuated with crenellations, David caught up with Gregory. “Need a bit of fresh air?”