“Then that settles it. We'll go there tonight. As soon as you empty your glass.” He was teasing her, and knew she would probably only have another sip or two, the glass was still nearly full. She had only had one glass of each of the two wines he'd ordered and another of champagne, and no more than a sip of the Yquem. But it was still more than she ordinarily drank. They were both happy, but not drunk. If anything, they were inebriated by the pleasure of each other's company, but not the wine.

“I can't finish it,” Isabelle said plaintively, with huge eyes that looked into his, while he fought off an urge to put his arms around her. But he was not foolish enough to do anything of the sort, and he had no desire to jeopardize her reputation or put her in an awkward spot.

“If you can't finish your Yquem, then we can't go to Annabel's,” Bill said with a determined look, as the waiter brought them a plate of chocolates and candies, which delighted Isabelle. She had had a wonderful time, and didn't expect to go anywhere else, except back to the hotel. She wasn't greedy and didn't expect to go out to dance. “I have an idea,” he said then, teasing her again. “If you eat two chocolates, I'll accept that instead, and I'll take you to Annabel's.” He wanted to take her there now.

“Are you serious?” She looked amused and surprised as she popped a small chocolate truffle into her mouth with a menacing look. “That's one.”

“And here's one more,” he said, handing her another chocolate.

“That's terrible. Not only do you want me drunk, you want me fat.”

“That would take a lot longer than getting you drunk,” he said with a grin, and ate one of the truffles himself. “That settles it. We're going to Annabel's,” he said as he signaled for the bill as the waiter walked by.

“I don't think I can even dance anymore. Besides, you're too young and I'm too old. The men there are all as old as my father, and they're dancing with girls Sophie's age.”

“You can pass, and I'm afraid so can I. We'll just have to do our best. I'm not much of a dancer myself, but I think it would be fun.” He looked relaxed and happy as he said it, and several heads turned as they left. They were a very handsome pair.

It only took them a few minutes to get to Annabel's, and when they arrived, once again everyone seemed to know Bill. He had been to Annabel's six months before with the ambassador, and he dined there occasionally with friends whenever he was in London. Isabelle was smiling as they were led to their table. She suddenly felt young and silly being there, but very flattered that Bill would take her.

There was a good crowd at Annabel's that night, and a number of them were couples like the ones Isabelle had described to Bill, older men with very young women, but there were a lot of couples Bill's and Isabelle's age as well. There were people at tables all along the walls having dinner, and a number of people chatting and drinking in the cozy bar. And as Bill and Isabelle sat down at a table near the dance floor, she was startled by something she saw in Bill's eyes. It was a look she had never seen there before. She put it down to the wine they'd been drinking, and the closeness they'd always shared, but there was something tender and warm in the way he looked at her, and he led her onto the dance floor a moment later without saying a word. They were playing an old song she had always liked, and she was surprised to find that Bill was not only a wonderful dancer, but he seemed to be in perfect harmony with her. He held her close to him, with a strong arm around her, and she glided around the floor with him feeling happier and more at peace than she had in years. They moved from one song to another without leaving the dance floor, and it seemed hours later when they finally went back to their table, and he ordered more champagne.

She only sipped at hers, and their eyes met again over their glasses, and after a moment, she looked away. She was afraid of what she was beginning to feel for him.

He saw her look instantly and was concerned. “Are you all right?” He was worried that he had done something to upset her, but on the contrary, what she felt ran so deep and moved her so much, she couldn't find the right words.

“I'm fine. I'm just having such a nice evening, I never want it to end.”

“We won't let it,” he said gently, but they both knew it might be years before they could do this again. She couldn't make a habit of flying off to London, and if Teddy took a turn for the worse again, it might be years before she could get away. And she didn't feel as free about seeing him in Paris as she did here. Gordon would never understand, and there was no way she could explain it to him. “Let's not think about later, Isabelle. Let's just enjoy this now, while we can.” She nodded, and smiled at him, but when she did, there were tears in her eyes. It was as though she knew that only moments after she had said hello to him, she would soon have to say good-bye, and all they would be would be voices on the phone again. And he hated to see her go back to her lonely life. She was young and vital and beautiful, and she deserved to have someone beside her who appreciated all she had to give. “Shall we have another dance?” he asked finally, and she nodded. He held her hand this time as they walked back onto the floor. And this time, when he held her, she seemed to move infinitesimally closer to him. He said nothing to her, and closed his eyes as he held her in his arms. It was, at that exact instant, the most perfect moment in time, like a single sparkling diamond hanging suspended in a night sky.

They were both quiet when they left Annabel's, and they were halfway back to the hotel before either of them spoke again.

“I had such a good time tonight,” Isabelle whispered softly, acutely aware not only of how handsome he was, but of how kind he was to her.

“So did I,” he said, with an arm around her shoulders, enjoying her warmth as she nestled next to him. There was no artifice between them, no awkwardness, nothing uncomfortable or strange. But what she felt when she was with him, as much as happiness, was an extraordinary sense of peace. And neither of them moved for a minute when they got to the hotel, and the driver waited politely outside without opening the door.

“Shall we?” Bill said regretfully as he moved slowly away from her, and seeing the movement inside the car, the driver opened the door.

Bill followed Isabelle into the lobby, through the revolving door. It was two o'clock in the morning, and two workmen were polishing the marble floors. Isabelle yawned sleepily as they rode up in the elevator, and it stopped on the third floor.

“What time do you want to get started in the morning?” he asked her, wishing in spite of himself that he could spend the night with her. He knew it was out of the question, and would never have jeopardized their friendship by asking her, or doing something she might regret. He knew how proper she was.

“How does ten sound? I don't think the museum opens before then.” They were standing at her door by then, and she seemed subdued. The evening had made an enormous impression on her, in a number of ways.

“What about breakfast at nine? I'll pick you up on the way downstairs,” he offered, standing very close to her.

“That would be nice,” she smiled again. “I had such a good time tonight… thank you …” she whispered as he opened the door with her key, and then kissed the top of her head.

“I had a rotten time,” he said, smiling at her as she stepped into her room and looked back at him and laughed.

“I'm glad,” she said as he waved and then disappeared down the hall to his room. And all she could think was how lucky she was to have a friend like him, as she quietly closed her door and took off her shoes.





Chapter 3




Bill knocked on the door of Isabelle's room the next morning, and she was dressed and waiting for him, this time in a beautifully cut navy blue linen suit. She was wearing a navy blue Kelly bag, and navy alligator shoes, and she had a bright green scarf around her neck, and emerald and sapphire earrings. She looked pretty and young and fresh, and as always, very chic.

“You look wonderful today,” he commented as they walked down the stairs side by side. “How did you sleep?”

“Like a rock,” she said with a smile. “How about you?”

“I think I had too much to drink. I'm not sure if I fell asleep or passed out, but I feel great today.” He hadn't seemed drunk to her the night before, and she didn't think he was. He was just teasing her, and he looked in good spirits as they walked into the dining room. He had called and reserved a table, and he ordered a huge breakfast for both of them.

“I can't eat all that,” she complained. She looked at what he had ordered—eggs, waffles, bangers and bacon, croissants, oatmeal and fruit, orange juice and coffee—more than enough for a starving army, she commented with a smile.

“I didn't know what you like for breakfast,” he grinned at her sheepishly, “so I ordered everything. What do you usually eat?” he asked with curiosity, he liked knowing every little detail about her.

“Usually, coffee and dry toast, but this is more fun,” she said, putting waffles and eggs and bacon on her plate, and then adding some strawberries. And much to her own surprise, she ate a huge amount of what he had ordered, and he polished off most of the rest. And by the time they left the hotel, they were both in high spirits and teasing each other about how much they'd eaten and how fat they would get. “It's a good thing I only see you a few times a year,” she said as they got into the waiting limousine. “I'd be obese if I saw you more than that,” she added, but he looked odd as he glanced at her. He'd been thinking how nice it would be to have breakfast with her every day. She was such good company, and so easy to be with. It was rare for him to hear her in a bad mood, even when he called her several times a week on the phone. Cindy always said that she hated dealing with humans before noon. But Isabelle was chatty and informative all the way to the Tate.

She was telling him all about the paintings they were going to see, their history, their provenance, the technique and details that were most remarkable about them. She'd done her homework and was excited about seeing the exhibit with him. It delighted him to share her enthusiasm with her. And once they got to the exhibit, she was totally absorbed in each painting, studying intricately the most minute details, and pointing everything out to him. It was a whole new experience going to a museum with her, and by the time they left at noon, he felt as though he had taken an extensive art course.

“You're incredibly knowledgeable. Why don't you do something with all that, Isabelle? You know too much about art to just waste it.”

“I don't have time anymore,” she said sadly, “I really can't leave Teddy.”

“What about doing restoration work in the house, so you could be near him? From the sound of it, you could set up a studio somewhere. The house must be big enough for you to do that.”

“I think Gordon would make it very difficult,” she said quietly, with a tinge of regret in her voice. “He never liked the idea of my working. He thought it was a far too bohemian existence when I was working at the Louvre. I don't think it would be worth the headaches it would cause.” She had given up the idea of working long since, not only for Gordon, but for their son.

“I think it would be great for you,” Bill said practically. He admired her knowledge, and the gentle way she had shared it with him. It was like sharing her passion with him, he never felt that she was showing off or making him feel ignorant, although he was far less knowledgeable than she was about it. But there was an amazing grace and humility about everything she did and said to him. “Do you paint yourself?” he asked with interest.

“I did. I'm not very good at it, but I used to love it.”

“You could do that too, if you had a studio. I think it would be a wonderful outlet for you.” She smiled at the idea, but she knew how angry Gordon would be. He had been constantly irritated by her work before she had Sophie, and he had absolutely insisted she stop all of it once the child was born. He thought it was beneath her somehow, and her artwork didn't suit the image he had of her, or wanted for her. All he had wanted from her at that point was to have his children and run his home. All that she had been before they married, everything she had once done and loved, was no longer of any consequence to him. She was his now, to direct and control, and treat as an object he owned. Possession was important to him.