They did a last tango, and executed it perfectly, but even that didn’t make Sarah smile. And then they had one more “last dance,” cheek to cheek, both of them lost in their own thoughts, and when they went back to their table, he kissed her for a long, long time.

“I love you so, sweet girl. I really can’t bear to leave you.” They had both behaved admirably for the entire two weeks, and there had never been any question of doing anything different. “What am I going to do for the rest of my life without you?”

“Be happy … have a good life … get married … have ten children. …” She was only half teasing him. “Will you write to me?” she asked wistfully.

“On the hour. I promise. Perhaps your parents will hate Italy and come back to London sooner,” he said hopefully.

“I doubt that.” And so did he.

“You know, Mussolini is almost as bad as Hitler, from what everyone tells me.”

“I don’t think he’s expecting us.” She smiled. “In fact, I’m not even sure we’ll see him while we’re there.” She was teasing him again, but she didn’t know what more to say to William. Everything they had to say to each other was too painful.

They drove back to her hotel in silence, and tonight he had driven himself. He didn’t want his driver intruding on his last moments with Sarah. They sat in his car for a long time, talking quietly about what they’d done, what they would like to do, what they might have done, and what they would do when she came back to London before she sailed.

“Ill spend every minute with you until you sail, and that’s a promise.” She smiled as she looked up at him, he was so aristocratic and so handsome. The Duke of Whitfield. Perhaps one day she would tell her grandchildren how she had loved him years before. But more than ever she knew she couldn’t cost him his succession.

“I’ll write to you from Italy,” she promised him, not sure what she’d say. She’d have to confine herself to telling him what they were doing. She couldn’t allow herself to tell him all she felt. She was firm in her resolve not to encourage him to do something crazy.

“If I can get through, I’ll call you.” And then he took her in his arms and held her. “My darling … how I love you.” She closed her eyes, as tears rolled slowly down her cheeks while they kissed.

“I love you too…” she said as their lips parted for the merest moment. She saw that there were tears in his eyes, too, and she gently touched his cheek with her fingertips. “We have to be good about this, you know. We have no choice. You have responsibilities in your life, William. You can’t ignore them.”

“Yes, I can,” he said softly. “And what if we did have a choice?” It was the closest he’d ever come to promising her a future.

“We don’t have a choice.” She put a finger to his lips and then kissed him. “Don’t do this, William. I won’t let you”

“Why not?”

“Because I love you,” she said firmly.

“Then why won’t you give us what we both want, and talk about the future.”

“There can’t be a future for us, William,” she said sadly.

And when he helped her from the car, they walked slowly across the lobby, hand in hand. She had worn the white satin dress again, and she looked extravagantly lovely. His eyes seemed to pore over her, as though drinking in every detail so that he would never forget her once she was gone.

“I’ll see you soon.” He kissed her again, in plain sight of the men at the desk in the lobby. “Don’t forget how much I love you,” he said softly, and he kissed her once more, as she told him that she loved him. It was agony getting into the elevator without him. The doors closed heavily, and as she rose with it, she felt as though her heart were being torn from her chest.

He stood in the lobby staring at the elevator doors for a long time, and then he turned and went back outside to the waiting Daimler, with an unhappy but determined look. She was stubborn, even if she thought she was doing the right thing for him, but William Whitfield was more so.






Chapter 8





HE ride to Rome on the train seemed absolutely endless to Sarah. She was silent and pale, and her parents spoke in hushed tones to each other, but seldom spoke to her. They both knew how unhappy and how uninterested in conversation she was. William had called her just before they left for Victoria Station. The conversation had been brief, but there had been tears on her cheeks as she picked up her handbag and left the room. No matter how much they cared for each other, she knew that this was the beginning of their ultimate separation. She knew better than anyone how hopeless the situation was, and how foolish she had been to let herself fall in love with William. And now she would have to pay the price, suffer for a while, and force herself to forget him in the end. She wasn’t sure she wanted to see him again when they went back to London before they sailed. It was possible that seeing him at all would just be too painful.