And now, for the first time in over a year, she was finally seeing him again.

SEVENTEEN

Grace’s pulse tripped over itself as her gaze found the striking green eyes of George Anderson.

After so many months, there he was—in person, with his dark hair neatly combed to the side and wearing a crisp blue RAF uniform, his arms tucked patiently behind his back like a soldier at ease. His mouth opened as he took her in, but he didn’t utter a single word.

He swallowed and cleared his throat then said, “Miss Bennett—Grace—you look...” He shook his head as though trying to find the right word.

Never had she seen him at a loss for what to say. In their previous interactions, he’d always been so smooth and confident. That she had rattled him gave her an undeniable thrill.

“Stunning,” he said finally with a lopsided grin. “You look stunning.”

He brought his arms from around his back and extended a book toward her. The royal purple cover was embossed with a gold image of a man standing on a barrel amid a group of people with the looping title in gilt at its top. Vanity Fair.

“I would have arrived with flowers, but it appears they’ve all been replaced with cabbages.” He tilted the book as though reconsidering it. “So I brought the next best thing. I thought you might enjoy it, and you hadn’t mentioned reading this one yet in your letters.”

“I haven’t.” Grace took the book, feeling suddenly shy in front of this man whom she’d shared so much of herself with. “And this is far better than flowers.”

Grace turned inside the townhouse to set the book on the small table by the door and found Mrs. Weatherford and Viv watching with raised brows and wide, expectant smiles stretched on their faces. Grace laughed. “Let me introduce you to my dearest friends, Mrs. Weatherford and Viv.”

George stepped into the townhouse and was introduced first to Viv, who politely greeted him, then, once he’d turned to Mrs. Weatherford, she fanned herself with openmouthed appreciation.

For her part, Mrs. Weatherford tittered on with flushed eagerness as she chatted with him about his return to London and asked after his family who lived in Kent.

Once introductions had been made, George returned to Grace and offered her his arm. He led her outside and together they walked to a waiting taxi.

Her jittering nerves prior to his arrival melted into a blissful, electric happiness. There was something about knowing one another’s intimate musings and considerations. After all, it was so much easier to share oneself by pen than voice, and it had established between them an undeniable connection.

While it might be only their first proper date, they knew one another. What’s more, they understood one another.