“My grandfather gave it to me.” Tenderness touched George’s smile. “Every year when I was a boy, we would take the train to Dorset to stay in his cottage. It’s on one of the cliffs, overlooking the sea. There’s an extensive library.” He widened his hands to reflect its enormity. “It takes up half the house and is filled with classics. But that one was always my favorite. Once I attended university, I couldn’t go anymore, so he had the book mailed to me.”

“Dorset.” Grace leaned back in her seat and gave a wistful smile. “I’ve heard it’s beautiful.”

“It is.” George curled his fingers around his wineglass, his head tilted in musing. “I miss it, the way the wind smells of the ocean, and how it tugs insistently at my hair and clothes when I stand near the edge of the cliff. On fine days, we would go down to the beach where the sand is hot and the water is cold.”

Grace could imagine herself there in that moment, the pull of the fierce coastal breeze at her own hair and clothes. “It sounds lovely.”

“Maybe someday you’ll have to go.” He lifted his glass to her in a silent toast and drank a sip of wine.

The waiter appeared then with the most decadent meal Grace had ever been served. While they ate, she recounted how life in London had changed and he told her about two other pilots he’d become friends with back in Scotland, sharing what bits and pieces of his life that he was allowed.

Graced glanced at the blacked-out window beside their table. “It doesn’t even feel as though the war is on while we’re here.”

George gazed around the room. “We could pretend, if you’re game?”

“Pretend?” Grace smiled even as she repeated the word. She hadn’t pretended at anything since she’d been a child. It felt so silly and impractical that it immediately drew her appeal.

“Oh yes.” He took a sip of wine, his head tilted in consideration. “As though the war never happened. You’re working at a bookshop, a lovely store assistant with a sharp mind and a keenness for good books.”

Grace couldn’t help but chuckle. “And you’re a charming engineer with an affinity for literature and a wonderful sense of humor who always knows how to say the right things.”

He gave a laugh that made his smile look almost boyish. “I’ll take it. Tomorrow, we’ll have plans to walk through the streets as snow sifts around us like down feathers, listening to the carolers singing at Hyde Park. I’ll have a handful of flowers for you.” He lifted a brow and eyed the small vase of purple-red dahlias pointedly. “Roses, I think.”

“And we will find a theater that’s playing A Christmas Carol,” she added.