“I’m not sure what we’re celebrating.” He set the card on the table. “That sounds as appealing as a seventeenth-century Scottish torture chamber.”
“It’s invitation only and it’s an honor to be included as a freshman,” Kate gushed.
“I’m glad your membership to committees and societies paid off, but I don’t know what it has to do with me.” He turned back to his equation.
“You’re going to take me,” she pleaded. “There will be a twelve-piece orchestra and hot chocolate station. The ballroom will be decorated with gold and silver snowflakes and it will be like a scene from Narnia.”
“It sounds horrifying. Everyone will drink flasks of whiskey they sneak in their socks.” He shuddered. “By midnight half the crowd will be throwing up and the other half will be pawing each other like animals. I’d rather watch an episode of Wild Kingdom on television.”
“It will be wonderful and elegant and they’re going to perform Scottish dances,” she corrected. “I need a date and I don’t have anyone else.”
“Kate.” Trevor looked at her. “You could wave the invitation in the middle of the Student Union and half the guys would jump at the chance.”
“I don’t want to go with someone I barely know.” She fiddled with the card.
“I’d have to rent a dinner jacket. I never took dancing lessons and I don’t know anything about wine.” He shook his head. “There’s a performance that night of Music in the Museums. We’ll attend that instead. Now I have to finish these problems. Afterward we can quiz each other on geography.”
“Just because you study math night and day doesn’t make you superior.” She was suddenly angry. “Attending balls is as important as solving logarithms.”
“It might be for the students who only care about the leather in their parents’ Aston Martins,” he said icily. “But it isn’t for me. When I graduate, I actually want to have learned something.”
“There’s time to do both. You’re an intellectual snob and you won’t admit it.” She grabbed the invitation and stood up. “But if you won’t come, I’ll take your advice.”
“Where are you going?” he called after her.
“To find someone who doesn’t think escorting me to the Snowdrop Ball is worse than coming down with the chicken pox.”
Kate jumped on her bicycle and rode down South Street. Why was Trevor being difficult? Just this week she missed a meeting of the Ivanhoe Society to proofread his paper on Spenser’s Faerie Queene. All she wanted was for him to accompany her to the ball.
The frigid air touched her neck and it was too cold to ride back to McIntosh Hall. She parked her bicycle in front of the Old Union Coffee Shop and walked inside.
She found a table in the back and ordered a hot chocolate. A familiar-looking man sat at the counter, nursing a pint of beer. He was like a model in a Ralph Lauren ad, all blond good looks and eyes as blue as sapphires.
He looked up and she realized she had been staring. She opened her purse and fiddled with her lipstick.
“Do you mind if I join you?” He approached her table. “I hate eating alone. The food loses its flavor if you don’t have someone to talk to.”
“I’m not eating, I only ordered a hot chocolate.” She flushed.
“That’s a shame. They serve the best stuffed baked potato in town.” He placed his plate on the table. “Here, you can share mine.”
She took a bite of baked potato stuffed with cheddar cheese and it really was delicious.
“You’re in my poetry seminar. But we haven’t been formally introduced.” He appraised Kate carefully. “Which at this moment seems like a terrible tragedy. Because you have truly remarkable legs.”
“I’m surprised you noticed,” she shot back. “You’re usually surrounded by a flock of girls like seagulls on the beach.”
“I’m a gentleman. It’s not polite to exclude others from a conversation.” He held out his hand. “I’ll make amends now. Ian Cunningham.”
“Kate Crawford.” She shook his hand and his palm was smooth as butter.
“And what is Kate Crawford with an American accent and smile that belongs in a toothpaste commercial doing in our little medieval town?”
“I didn’t want to spend four years attending football games and fraternity parties,” she explained. “Here you meet students from all over the world. And people are so involved. I’m a member of the Wildlife Society and the Harry Potter Society and lots of other societies.”
“I see you have an invitation to the Snowdrop Ball.” He pointed to the card sticking out of her purse. “That’s a coveted document.”
“How do you know what it is?” she asked.
“I received one too,” he admitted. “I’m president of the Fine Food and Dining Society and a member of the James Bond Society.”
“I haven’t heard of the James Bond Society. I must join!” She laughed and suddenly thought of Trevor. “I’m not sure if I’m going to the Snowdrop Ball.”
“Why not?” he asked. “The music is excellent and the wine selection is from the university’s private cellar.”
“I don’t have a date and it’s not the kind of event you attend alone,” she said. “Couples eat dinner at the Adamson and exchange corsages and boutonnieres.”
Ian sipped his beer and looked at Kate. “I’ll take you.”
“I don’t even know you!” she exclaimed. “And I’m sure there’s already some girl picking out her satin dress and pumps. I can’t imagine Ian Cunningham going stag to the Snowdrop Ball.”
“I might have been about to invite someone, but I can invent a toothache.” He shrugged. “I even have a note from my dentist. I can’t turn down a beautiful American, it’s bad for international relations.”
“We just met.” She hesitated. “What would we talk about?”
“I don’t have my curriculum vitae handy but I can give you a rundown: Born in Surrey and attended Harrow School. Did a gap year in Spain so even though I’m twenty, we’re in the same year. Mildly ambitious and determined to do something worthwhile with my trust fund.” He paused and looked at Kate. “I forgot the most important thing. I’m a great admirer of female beauty and you have the loveliest green eyes.” He set his beer on the table. “Am I a satisfactory escort?”
Ian was everything Trevor disliked. He was much too good-looking and the band on his Patek Philippe watch was so worn, it must have belonged to his father. He cared more about clubs than his studies, and instead of having to find a job, his only concern was what to do with his trust fund. And he was willing to take her to the Snowdrop Ball because of the color of her eyes and shape of her legs.
“Yes.” She nodded and ate another bite of baked potato. “You’ll do just fine.”
* * *
Kate stood in front of the mirror and admired her silver gown. Ian was picking her up in an hour and she still had to do her makeup.
The week leading up to the Snowdrop Ball had been so much fun. She took the bus to Edinburgh and bought a dress at Debenhams. In the afternoon she visited the Royal Botanic Garden and Edinburgh Castle and ate mince and tatters at George Hotel.
She wanted to ask Trevor to accompany her but they barely talked to each other. She was still angry with him for refusing to attend the ball, and he wasn’t happy with her choice of date.
Edinburgh Castle was magnificent! Trevor would have loved the Half Moon Battery with its fifteenth-century cannons and prisons where they used to keep pirates.
She wished he were with her when the guide described the Scottish charge at Waterloo. And she debated buying him a book on Mary Queen of Scots at the gift shop. He would have enjoyed the chapter on Mary’s dog hiding beneath her skirts during her execution.
Tomorrow the Snowdrop Ball would be over and they could go back to their routine of brisk walks and long hours in the library and gazing at the stars.
There was a knock at the door and she opened it. Trevor stood in the hallway. His backpack was slung over his shoulder and he clutched a paper sack.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
“I have something for you,” he answered. “Could I come in?”
“I’m very busy,” she said tersely. “Perhaps another time.”
“It will only take a minute.” He followed her inside. The dorm room only had two places to sit and he chose the wood chair. His long legs stuck out in front of him and she noticed his pants were too short.
“The other day you said I was an intellectual snob, but you were wrong,” he began. “I can’t compete with others on the polo field or by picking up the bill at an expensive restaurant. All I have is my brain. If I interrupt my homework to drink at the pub or watch some silly pantomime, someone else will get ahead.”
“Being at university isn’t a contest,” she snapped. “It’s about having experiences and discovering who you are.”
“That’s fine in America where all you need is a big idea and decent work ethic to get rich,” he responded. “It’s different in England. The other students attend their fathers’ boarding schools and belong to the same private clubs and eventually have adjoining boxes at Wimbledon. I don’t want those things, but I do want to afford a nice home and family,” he finished. “The only way I’m going to get them is by being the best at what I do.”
“You still have to have fun,” she insisted. “We’re young and without responsibilities. We’re supposed to enjoy ourselves.”
“I love solving equations. And algorithms aren’t some impossible puzzle; they are as simple as a child’s building blocks. What I didn’t realize is that keeping our friendship is as important as achieving my goals.” He paused. “When I’m with you I’m happy. I’ve never experienced that before.” He reached into the paper sack and took out a plastic box. “This is for you.”
Kate glanced at the rose corsage and frowned. “It’s beautiful, but I have a date to the Snowdrop Ball.”
“I know. Even if you didn’t, I still wouldn’t go,” he said. “But that doesn’t mean I won’t be thinking of you.” He admired her blond chignon and diamond earrings. “You look beautiful, Kate. I hope you have a wonderful time.”
“The rose is lovely.” She put the box on the desk. “But what if Ian gives me a corsage?”
“You’ll figure it out.” He stood up. “I do have a question.”
“Yes?” she asked.
“Tomorrow I’m going to hike in Tentsmuir Forest. Would you like to come?”
“Yes, I’d love to.” Kate nodded.
“Good.” He turned the door handle and grinned. “You can explain the plot of As You Like It to me. I’m a great admirer of Shakespeare’s business acumen, but I can’t understand a word he writes.”
* * *
Kate put down her coffee cup and reached into her purse. It was late and if she drank any more coffee she’d have a terrible headache. They had a busy schedule tomorrow and the last thing she needed was to be popping aspirin.
It was hard to believe that Ian was married with a baby. To her he was still the overly handsome, frustratingly outgoing boy who never let a group dissolve without planning an impromptu picnic or late-night pilgrimage to some pub in town.
Of course that was silly; they were all ten years older. She was a television producer and Trevor had been knighted by the Queen and Ian owned a nightclub in Spain. Then why after all this time did Trevor’s kiss feel exactly the same?
Her phone buzzed and she picked it up.
“It’s Trevor,” a male voice said. “Gerome said you left without letting him call a cab. I wanted to make sure you got back to Claridge’s.”
“I’m fine.” Kate smiled. “I just needed some air.”
“Kate, I’m sorry for kissing you,” he said. “I got caught up in the moment.”
“You don’t have to explain.” She squeezed the phone.
“I have two tickets to The Nutcracker at Covent Garden tomorrow night,” he continued. “It’s a private box and Susannah and I were supposed to go together. Would you like to join me?”
“I have a busy day tomorrow.…” She hesitated.
“You’re in London at Christmas,” he urged. “You can’t turn down an invitation to Covent Garden.”
“All right, I’ll go,” she agreed.
“Excellent,” Trevor said. “And Kate, wear your hair the way you did tonight. You’ve never looked so beautiful.”
Kate walked out of the café and hurried down Dover Street. She shouldn’t have said yes to Trevor. But she adored The Nutcracker and she couldn’t pass up a box at Covent Garden.
Being with Trevor was like slipping on her favorite dress, comfortable and pleasing against her skin. Then why did his kiss unsettle her and why did he apologize?
The doorman at Claridge’s greeted her and she strode through the lobby. She was going to take a hot bath and catch up on her e-mails. She’d think about Trevor tomorrow.