If I Had You (14 page)

“Then they will soon be dead, or in police custody,” Boris said, forking his last piece of sausage into his mouth. “A pity. Your sister would have beautiful babies. Have you thought about finding her a nice Englishman?”

Ivan drank deeply, trying to dislodge the nonexistent piece of sausage. “I don't think she cares about any of that. My parents' deaths are a cancer eating away at her. She cannot let them go. She's lost faith in me. She'd never let herself be courted by someone of my choosing.” He was struck by a stray thought, that of Miss Loudon pacing the halls at night, tortured by nightmares of her own parents' passing.

Boris leaned over his plate. “What is it?”

Ivan winced. “Miss Loudon is not over her parents' deaths either, but I never hear her cursing the Germans over it.”

“It is more impersonal, sinking a ship versus a firing squad.”

“They are no less dead.”

“That, boychick, is philosophy.” Boris sat back and poured the last of their wine into his glass.

Ivan reached for his glass again and saw it was empty. Time to drink water. “Do you think, if I introduced Vera to Miss Loudon, that it might have some effect?”

“It depends on how deep she's gone. How nihilistic she's become.”

Ivan nodded. “I would like Vera to put a human face on this command performance. If she sees who she might kill in the process, maybe she will relent.”

Boris smiled sadly. “Vera is not the ringleader.”

“Maybe not, but one step at a time. I can't save everyone.”

“You shouldn't spare a thought to help the others, unless you mean Sergei. Just try to minimize the damage they can do to your sister.”

“Wise words, my friend. I did speak to her about the brooch. It sounds like it once belonged to my mother.”

His friend shook his head. “A pity. It's a very expensive piece.”

“I know. I have no claim on it.”

“I wish I could afford to give it to you, if the present owner fails to claim it.”

“No.” He thought about what Vera had said. “I wouldn't want it.”

Boris covered his mouth as he belched. “We'll have to break out another bottle, or should we just move on to the vodka?”

* * *

Alecia took her grandfather to the café where she had dined with Ivan, since she didn't know of anywhere else.

“This isn't what I expected Londoners to eat,” he said, breaking his plate of eggs into bite-sized portions.

“This is simple workday food for office people,” she said. “I don't know London yet. I spend most of my time at the hotel.”

“I was afraid the Marvins would be taking you out at night, forcing you to live a decadent lifestyle.”

Alecia recalled New Year's Eve at the nightclub. She'd be willing to go out every night if she could listen to music, but the Marvins weren't like that. They let Max Parker visit the parties and hot spots for them, while they had small parties of equals in their suite. “No, it isn't like that. I expect my evenings to grow even quieter when Mrs. Marvin's play opens.”

“What about Mr. Marvin?”

Her grandfather seemed to have intuited some piece of the truth. She couldn't not ask him for help. “Mrs. Marvin isn't spending very much time with him. Everything is fine generally, even if he and I are alone working. They are genuine professionals.”

“Generally? Something has happened?”

She let her chin drop toward her chest. “He made advances last night. I don't know where his wife was.”

He frowned at his eggs. “Do you think she expected it?”

Alecia thought back. “Yes. But she told me some time ago not to trouble myself. She didn't expect me to comply with his demands.”

“I should think not.” Her grandfather's shoulders straightened and his cheeks seemed to have moved toward his nose, making fierce lines down the center of his face.

A shiver passed down her back at the memory of last night. “Do you think I am in real danger from him? He had been drinking and he didn't pursue me when I refused.”

“This may sound like a separate issue, but it isn't. The fact that you introduced me to Mr. Salter tells me that he is important to you.”

“Yes, Grandfather, he is.” She hesitated. “Of course, I've only known him two weeks, really.”

“You've been here a month.”

“I never spoke to him until just before the New Year.”

“Do you think a proposal is forthcoming?”

“Oh.” She was taken aback. “No.”

“No?” he repeated.

Ivan wanted to be her lover. Did he mean for that to move into a commitment? In her sheltered life the answer would be yes. In fact, she'd never known a girl to be her fellow's lover until she was properly engaged, though some anticipated the wedding date. Who had the template for correct behavior in these modern times?

“I'm not sure.”

“I would want better for you than a night watchman, but Mr. Salter seems to have the eye of the manager, so he has prospects.”

“He's very intelligent,” she enthused. “And think of what he's come from. A privileged background. He escaped Russia because he was close to Finland with his sister when his family was killed. He was on the run from one country to the next for about four years before coming here. So his career now doesn't reflect his true prospects, because he's been a refugee.”

“He might not ever catch up. So much success is in who you know. Where does a Russian like him fit into our class structure?”

“I believe his family was gentry.”

“That was in Russia. I don't know what your life would look like as his wife.”

“I don't either, Grandfather. Nothing seems real inside the Grand Russe. It's so outside of what my experience has been. The very air is opulent.” She swallowed hard. “But Mr. Salter, I've been outside the hotel with him. He no longer feels like a part of a grand hotel dream.”

“Would you like to come home? I don't want you risking yourself with this Mr. Marvin.”

“I don't plan to.” She said the words with firm intent and meant them. While she might lose her virginity, and soon, it wouldn't be to Richard. “I'll investigate other options.”

“Such as?”

“I'll speak to the hotel manager.” She picked up a piece of toast.

“You've one month's experience as a secretary and about three months' experience as a nurse trainee.”

She gestured with the butter knife. “I have more secretarial skill than that. I worked for you for years.”

“You'll need a good reference from the Marvins,” he warned.

“I'm sure Mrs. Marvin would give me one if I explained.”

“I'd rather you came home, especially now that Sadie has run off.” He took off his spectacles and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

Her dratted sister. “I'm sorry neither of us is taking care of you.”

“You have to make your own way,” he said. “It's a new world and you both want to be a part of it. I understand that, but I want you safe. I want the pair of you to have the right sort of husbands.”

“I'm running out of time to find one. I'm twenty-two.”

“Then you had better stay and see how serious your Mr. Salter is about you. But don't let a year pass by while you sort it out with him.”

“No, sir.”

They finished their lunch and then went in opposite directions on the pavement after shaking hands goodbye. He needed to return to his hotel and pack for his train. She wanted to see if she could speak to Mr. Eyre before she returned to the Marvins. But before she crossed the street she watched the beloved, slightly stooped figure of her grandfather walking away. He was not a demonstrative man, but she knew he loved her and wanted her protected.

Upon her return to the hotel, she went to the front desk and asked Mr. Moth if Mr. Eyre was available. Less than five minutes later she was being ushered into the manager's office.

Peter Eyre ground out his cigarette as she entered. He was dapper today in a dark pinstriped suit, and very appealing as he smiled in a rather sleepy fashion. “What brings you in today, Miss Loudon? The business of the play?”

“No, sir.”

“Sir? So formal today.”

She nodded. “It's only that I wanted to speak to you about professional opportunities.”

“For your sister again? I haven't changed my mind. We'll hire her.”

“No, but since you've been so generous with her, I thought you might consider me for a position as well.”

He came around his desk and leaned against the front. “You? Trouble in the Chinese Suite?”

“Visiting with my grandfather has reminded me that I am a vicar's granddaughter and I'm not sure it is suitable for me to continue living in a man's valet room.”

“You understand that if you had a position here, you wouldn't be able to live in. That throws you into the London housing market.”

Alecia remembered where Ivan had to live, near that pawnshop. But then, Sadie would need a place to live too. They could find a flat together. She would have to room with her sister. “I understand.”

“I'm afraid we don't have any secretarial positions available. I don't imagine you want to be a chambermaid.”

“I might,” she told him.

“I wouldn't want to hire you for that. You know how to type and write letters. Those skills pay better. I'll certainly let you know if we have an opening. But if you do leave the Marvins, I'd suggest looking for work as a secretary, or at least a typist.”

She didn't want to whine, but she didn't want to give up, either. “It's hard to find work.”

“I know, but at least you are in a large city. If the situation becomes intolerable, I do hope you'll speak to me. Is there anything I can do for you now?”

She wanted to tell him to stay away from Sybil, if he was indeed Sybil's lover, so that she'd spend more time with Richard. But she couldn't say that. “No. Thank you for your time.”

“Of course.” He frowned and pulled his cigarette case from his coat. When he saw she was still looking at him he held it up. “Cigarette, Miss Loudon?”

“No, sir. Good afternoon.” She stood, and tripped over a chair leg when she moved too quickly. A very firm hand clasped around her upper arm, holding her steady. “So sorry.”

He let her go almost before she registered their proximity. “Not at all. You do seem agitated, Miss Loudon.”

“No, I'm merely sorry to see my grandfather leave so soon. I'll sort myself out.” She forced a smile and opened the door, walking out without looking back.

* * *

Ivan left his flat a little before seven
P.M.
, planning to buy something to eat from the corner pub before going to work. He walked through an icy drizzle, whistling one of the jazzy tunes he'd heard a few times through the nightclub's rear door. A newsboy shouted out some sort of commentary about the inevitability of another war in Europe. There had been a time when Ivan's English had not been good enough to understand such a boy's accent and the news he shouted. Now he understood perfectly, but he hoped that piece of news was wrong. He had traveled for years through Europe after the war and never wanted to see such devastation again in his lifetime.

He opened the door of the pub and went up to the bar. A copy of the
Evening News
was right there, so he sat down, deciding then and there to eat in the pub. He ordered a plate of bread, cheese, and pickles, plus coffee, and opened the paper.

Once his food arrived, however, his thoughts began to drift. He couldn't focus on the paper, so he set it aside and let the voices in the pub act as a soothing balm while he collected his own thoughts. Did he love Alecia Loudon? Could Boris be right? He'd thought he was simply trying to get a pretty girl into bed. Now, though, he'd met her grandfather, a very proper sort of old gent, and he'd learned that her sister was moving to London. Family complicated the kind of arrangement he'd suggested. At least it might. What did he know? Could he really take a vicar's unmarried granddaughter to bed in her hotel room?

Frankly, he suspected he could, but he'd feel guilty about it later. If she indicated her willingness, he wasn't about to resist her, but was that because he loved her? His thoughts all but shut down at the mere thought, as if he'd lost the English he forced himself to think in most of the time.

When he heard his sister's voice behind him, he frowned. She'd better not be spending money in a pub when she was meant to be drumming up more work for herself. Still, he wouldn't admonish her in public. There was a small chance Sergei was paying.

When he turned around, he could not believe the evidence of his own eyes. His sister was sitting across from Richard Marvin, Miss Loudon's employer. How on earth had they met? Was he the missing link between the conspirators and the command performance? Had Vera lied about the brooch?

I
van's feet didn't feel as light as they usually did when he made his service corridor check just before midnight. Once he'd been looking for petty thieves and naughty Bright Young Things necking in the halls. Now he only hoped to find Miss Loudon. With her distractions, he'd probably lose his position if not for the official sanction to pursue her.

His sad heart lightened when he saw her, her hand splayed against the wall as she listened to the music. He came up behind her. “May I have this dance?”

She turned around slowly, and he was shocked to see the gleam of tears in her eyes.

He put his hand to her cheek and gently wiped one tear away. Her cheek felt cool under his fingers. “What is wrong? Or is it just the music making you emotional?”

She wiped her other cheek. “I'm feeling homesick, I guess.”

He pulled out his handkerchief and gave it to her, then leaned against the wall and glanced in her direction. “But you love London.”

Her lips pursed, then relaxed. She shook her head slightly. “I'm going to have to leave here.”

He felt stupid, stuck in short sentences. Strands of hair drifted around her face. She normally looked more put together, even at this hour. “But your sister is coming.”

She blinked. “I don't want to be a chambermaid.”

He sighed. What was wrong? Was there anything he could fix? “Miss Loudon, I don't understand.”

She pressed her palms together and raised her fingers to her lips. “I asked Mr. Eyre about a position, but that was the only thing available.”

No wonder he was confused. The most important part of the story was missing. “Were you sacked?”

She shook her head. “No, but Mr. Marvin made advances. He drinks too much. What if he gets out of hand?”

He took a moment to process that, putting it with what he'd just seen at the pub.

“Ivan, what are you thinking?” she asked, when he didn't immediately respond.

“I think Mr. Marvin has a lot on his mind. I don't think he will bother you again,” Ivan said, reliving the unwelcome sight of Marvin with Vera. He'd whipped around on his stool, fists clenched, ready to confront them, then realized he was almost late for work. He'd had to run for the bus, unnoticed by the pair, and made it to the hotel's basement only a minute before his shift began. Figuring out what the connection was between his sister and Mr. Marvin had not been on the day's menu.

For sure, he needed Miss Loudon to stay in her position so he could find out what was going on. He stared intently at his teary-eyed innocent. “If you go home, we won't be able to see each other.”

A tear leaked down her cheek. He lifted a thumb and wiped it away again. “Do you really think you're in danger from him?”

“No. He didn't pursue me when I walked away. That's a good sign. It's merely an issue of discomfort.”

He nodded sharply. “Good. I don't want to say goodbye to you. Do you think Mr. Eyre might be willing to speak to him on your behalf?”

She put her fingers to her temples. “I need to be able to fight my own battles.”

He made his voice low, urgent. “I need time with you. A lot more time.” When he said it, he knew it was true, for many reasons.

“I want the same thing,” she whispered.

He slid an arm around her and pulled her close until her head rested against his shoulder. “You could talk to Mrs. Marvin.”

“She's basically disappeared. Her maid, Ethel, is the only one of us who sees her.”

“The new acting role is keeping her busy?”

“I think it's more than that. But I have no idea where she's spending her time. I have a very strange position,” she admitted.

“You're spending too much time with Mr. Marvin.” The sweet scent of her hair alone was enough to make him harden.

She sighed. “I know. I think Sybil knew something like this would happen if she strayed, but she did it anyway.”

“She has a lover?” What a complicated couple.

“She thought about it, mentioned it to me, then started disappearing.”

Richard Marvin with Vera. Sybil with who knew who. Ivan could hardly keep track. “You don't think you were hired to be his mistress?”

She blanched. “No.”

“Why not?”

She considered for a moment, then said, “I came to the hotel with them. They arrived in London on the first day I was employed. She didn't seem to have her eye on Mr. Eyre. Possibly she'd never seen him before then.”

“Mr. Eyre?”

“Yes. What do you think? She wanted to have an affair with him.”

He couldn't see that as a possibility. “I think he's seeing Miss Plash.”

“Still?”

He nodded. He'd seen them together again. “Yes, still.”

Miss Loudon chewed her lip. “Would he see both of them at once?”

“He's no fool. Seeing two women who live on the same floor would lead to disaster before long.”

“So he probably turned Sybil down when she made the suggestion,” Alecia said. “If that's the case, who is she with all the time?”

“I don't know, Miss Loudon. I haven't seen her with anyone.” But he'd be keeping an eye on both Marvins.

“I wish you would call me Alecia. Miss Loudon seems so formal, now.”

“After all our kisses?” He smiled.

“Rather, after two weeks of friendship. I do hope we are friends.”

“Please stay, Alecia.” He stared into her eyes. “I will be very sad if you go.”

“Mr. Eyre said to look for a secretarial position somewhere in the City.”

He cupped the back of her head, drinking in her lovely face. “He doesn't know how I feel about you. If you go, then what? I will only see you one day a week. It isn't enough.”

“Every night isn't enough.” She wrapped her arms around him and nuzzled close as the piano player in the nightclub tickled the ivories with a dreamy version of “Spanish Love.”

Ivan swayed to the music and Alecia moved with him, as if they were one body. “This is what making love to you will feel like,” he whispered.

“We aren't even kissing.”

He nuzzled her hair. “There's more to it than lips touching.”

“How is it that the same thing can seem so beautiful or so tawdry?”

He slid his hands down her hips. The desire to touch her everywhere warred with the knowledge that he could scare her away. She had little knowledge of life's realities. Such a sheltered, pretty, dear girl. “Emotion? Intent?”

“Don't you think you should be in love first?”

He thought about all those girls in the barns of Tver's dachas, so many years ago. Fervent couplings against trees just above the grassy banks of the Volga. He'd been in love with the touch of young, firm bodies and the passion of fearless youth. “In love with life? In love with possibility?”

“Really?”

What had happened to those careless girls? Were they married now, dead? Hollow-eyed with want from ten years' privation, or were they with the likes of Ovolensky, moving up the ranks of the new government?

“Ivan?”

He looked down at her, somewhat surprised.

“You look tired.” She released her arms from their tight hold around his back. “I should go.”

“It is late.” As if to mock his words, the full band blared to life, trumpet in the lead. “Some night we'll have to sneak into the nightclub.”

“Do you have the keys to this door?”

“I can get them.”

They smiled at each other, coconspirators.

“Promise me you won't leave without coming to me,” he said. “Or, if you must, go to the pawnshop and ask for Boris. He'll find me for you, if I'm not here.”

She nodded. “I'm sure nothing will happen. I'll mix weaker drinks for him. And try to find out what is going on with Sybil. She needs to rehearse for the command performance anyway. I'll remind her about the rehearsals.”

He took her slender white hands in both of his and kissed them fervently. “My
myshka
.”

“To think I thought that word an insult at first.” She put her hand to her mouth, kissed it, then pressed her fingers against his. “Goodnight, Ivan.”

She ran lightly down the corridor. As he watched, he realized she'd lost weight since he'd seen her. Those horrible dresses were even baggier than before. She wasn't thriving here at the Grand Russe. Hotel life wasn't for everyone.

* * *

Alecia rolled over in bed and rubbed the sleep out of her eyes. She'd felt incredibly unsettled when she'd returned to her room the night before. Her body tingled from Ivan's caresses, while her ears nervously listened to her walls, afraid a scratching would come at the door between her room and Richard's. She only fell asleep after resolving, however impossibly, to insist that she be housed elsewhere in the hotel.

The next day she realized the idea was silly, now, in the daylight. Richard couldn't access her room unless she unlocked the door in between. She was as safe here as in any room in the hotel. Her thoughts were jumbled from sleep deprivation.

It had been a big night. She and Ivan had come one step closer to agreeing to become lovers. But she still didn't know how he felt about her. Surely if he loved her he'd have said so, instead of drifting into the privacy of his thoughts. She preferred honesty, remembered her mother warning her that boys would say anything to receive what she called “the privileges of marriage.”

She'd given that advice before the war. Everything had changed now. War would come again, some people said, with the knowledge that their dear boys could die in battle. Others said war would never come again, but that number became fewer every year.

What was there to do now except live? As long as they took precautions, what was the harm? She didn't want to marry a vicar. No, she wanted to be the girl a boy took to nightclubs before it was too late for her.

She poured water from her jug into her basin and washed her face. Was Ivan too different from her? Could she ever understand the heart and mind of a Russian? Could she trust that the impact she put on his words matched how he really felt? Which was a bigger distance—boy to girl, or Englishwoman to Russian? She wondered if the Marvins would have any advice, since they had been to Russia. The idea of confiding to either of them any more than she already had seemed nonsensical, though.

She finished washing, then checked the drawer in her wardrobe to make sure her pay was still there. Her grandfather had received none of it, and now she could afford a new dress. She couldn't wait to review the papers and see what stores would have sales during the week.

An involuntary yawn distracted her, a reminder of how few hours of sleep she'd had the night before. Should she try to go back to sleep? She had at least an hour before Richard rose, more before Sybil did, if she'd even come home the night before.

Her threadbare dressing gown came off without her making a conscious choice to remove it. She bent over her bed to pull the blankets down, ready to crawl under them. A knock at the door stopped her.

She whirled around. Richard? No, it had come from the door into the corridor. The chambermaid wouldn't be trying to clean the room so early. She picked up her pocket watch and saw it was 8:10. Her heartbeat picked up speed. Ivan's shift had just ended. Had he decided to join her in her room?

She grabbed her dressing gown and pulled it on, still tying the belt as she opened the door a crack.

“Good morning,” Ivan said. His eyes looked red, but otherwise she'd never have known he'd worked through the night.

“Hello.” She checked her belt, forgetting she had just tied it, her heart pounding.

He craned his neck and peered over her head. “It's a very small room.”

She glanced around him into the corridor. No one could see him here. “You'd better come in.”

He nodded and stepped forward as she backed up, and then closed the door behind himself. “Thank you.”

“Are you even allowed to be up here? Could you be sacked?” she asked breathlessly.

“No. It's fine.” He took off his watchman cap.

“Really? I'm surprised.”

“This is the Grand Russe, not some regular sort of hotel.” He winked.

She chuckled. “Scandal is permitted?”

“Something like that.”

She lowered her voice. “Scandal is preferred?”

“To a certain degree.” His lips curved. “But there are limits. May I kiss you?”

She put her hand to her cheek. “I'm half asleep.”

“A sleepy kiss is divine.” He bent forward and touched his lips to hers, sweetly, without touching her anywhere else.

She caved first, wrapping her arms around him and intensifying his sweet offering. Her breasts felt full as they pressed against him, her nipples tightening into sharp points. The rest of her softened. If he leaned back it would be like they were doing that tango move Valentino had perfected.

Ivan's arms went around her waist. Her skin heated underneath her nightgown, everywhere his warm body touched.

“You must be exhausted,” she murmured against his mouth. “I was thinking about going back to sleep myself.”

“I'll leave in a moment,” he said, after he broke this kiss. “I just wanted to tell you something.”

She blinked. He didn't want to make love to her? She looked at him again. He really did look tired, and he was only two days into his work week. “What?”

“I traded my day off this week for tomorrow.” He squeezed her waist.