In Love with a Gentleman (13 page)

Cod with Basil

New Potatoes

Petit Pois à la Francaise

Sun-Dried Tomatoes & Courgette in a Walnut Crust

Swiss Roll with Jam and Custard

I’m impressed. It sounds delicious. But before the meal can begin, everyone must stand. The rector solemnly welcomes us, raises his wineglass, and makes a toast to Her Majesty the Queen. Everyone courteously murmurs “The Queen” and nods to each other; then the delicious food is served.

I manage to forget my earlier awkwardness. I’m excited to be here in this incredible place, sitting next to my dream man and eating this wonderful food. Conversation is lively and witty—not surprising, as all the people here are quite learned. They talk about science, politics, and art. I hold back but occasionally involve myself in a conversation with someone, trying to respond as skillfully as I can. Ethan barely speaks, but it doesn’t bother me. I’ve already figured out that he’s the strong, silent type. It’s quite charming. I enjoy his calm presence at my side. He’s so steady and dependable. When he does speak, it’s always an interesting contribution, and I feel proud. My dream man is so smart.

As the meal comes to an end, Theo asks me, “What do you think? Do you want to go to the kitchen?”

I have no idea how to respond to this question. Is it like at a youth hostel, where guests help clean up? “What, to wash the dishes?” I ask.

I’ve hardly said the words when I realize how stupid I sound. Everyone is stunned, then starts laughing. Even Ethan laughs along, and I can see his dimples, which
I love. I would say something stupid again just to see them.

Theo shakes his head and says, “No, Lea. Tonight’s a party night. After dinner, there’s a disco in the old college kitchen. We can go dancing, if you’d like.”

Dancing is my life, so I say, “I’m totally there!”

Theo exchanges a glance with Ethan, who grimaces. Of course! Ethan doesn’t like to dance. But he agrees to go, and we leave the dining hall. We walk down a hallway to a large room with huge, empty fireplaces. Oxen were undoubtedly grilled there in the Middle Ages. There’s a disco set up in the corner with a student DJ selecting the music.

I tug Ethan’s sleeve, shouting, “Why are there giant tortoises hanging on the wall?”

Ethan responds, “They’re the remains of feasts from centuries past. You’ve surely heard of turtle soup?”

I look at the shells and think about their original inhabitants that were used to make hundreds of gallons of soup. I’d like to talk about this more, but the beat of the music makes further conversation virtually impossible. I try to pull Ethan onto the dance floor, but he makes a dismissive gesture and moves back against the wall, his arms crossed. He casually watches the commotion. Luckily, I quickly find a wiry student who dances really well. We immediately cut a rug, so to speak, on the stone tiles and have a ton of fun. I glance over at Ethan occasionally, who apparently has no desire to dance whatsoever. When one girl after another asks him to dance, he sullenly declines by shaking his head. I’m more than just relieved—I’m maliciously gleeful, to the point that I almost feel guilty. When there’s a break in the music, I weave my way over to him. My heart is throbbing like crazy—this time from dancing. Gasping for air, I ask, “Wouldn’t you like to dance a little? It’s so much fun.”

But Ethan resolutely shakes his head. “We can go whenever you’ve had enough of your little fling.”

Aha! So that’s the deal. He’s only here because of me. He really seems to find the whole thing quite silly. I can’t go back onto the dance floor without feeling guilty. What a pity.

I shrug and reply, “Okay, then let’s go.” I think to myself,
Now what?
He’s probably just going to take me back to my dreadful accommodations
. I’m back to thinking that I really don’t mean anything to him. Clearly I’ve let my imagination run away with me and am way off the mark.

Then Ethan gives me one of his rare, special smiles and says, “Thank you for being so understanding. That’s very sweet of you.” He gazes at me openly and tenderly. Now my heart is racing again—this time because of Ethan. He conjures up my coat from somewhere and helps me into it. I can feel his hands on my shoulders like I did at Anne’s.

“Are you going? We’re leaving, too,” Theo says, who is suddenly standing next to us with a petite, sexy blonde on his arm. “This is Kathleen. We want to take a walk. It’s getting unbearably hot and stuffy in here.”

Kathleen tosses her long hair over her shoulder and looks lovingly at Theo, who’s grinning like a Cheshire cat. Apparently, he’s made a conquest. I bet these two will end up in the same bed tonight.

The four of us leave the building. The cool autumn night welcomes us. It smells of dry leaves and the nearby river. Muffled music and the laughter of guests emanate from the old kitchen. Rectangles of light shine from the windows and illuminate the courtyard’s manicured lawn. Kathleen and Theo walk ahead of us on the footpath toward the River Cam and its grassy riverbank. We stroll behind them. Ethan takes my arm in his, and I can feel how tense he is.

“I hope you’re not mad at me,” I say uncertainly.

“Why would I be?”

“Because I made a scene on the river today.”

“It doesn’t bother me,” Ethan says nonchalantly. “You can do whatever you like while you’re in Cambridge.” He sounds so somber that I once again wonder whether he’s interested in me at all. We walk silently side by side for a while; then Ethan says abruptly, “I was just wondering who your companion was.”

I dare to hope again and say hastily, “Nobody special, just an acquaintance from Germany. We bumped into each other quite by chance here in Cambridge.”

“Ah,” Ethan says. Nothing more. Am I mistaken, or does his arm relax? I would like to believe so.

We come to a high wrought iron gate at the entrance to the college grounds. Theo and Kathleen are already on the other side. As we approach, Theo mischievously slams the gate. When I reach for the handle, Theo says, “It’s no use. The gate is locked. You’ll need to climb over.” He takes Kathleen by the hand, and they disappear into the darkness, laughing.

I look at Ethan. “Is this true?”

“Yes,” he says. “I’ll show you how.”

He places one foot on a hinge, throws a leg over the gate, and pushes himself effortlessly over it. It barely took a second for a fit physical education teacher, but I stand there uncertainly. Does he really expect me to do that wearing a dress? I suddenly feel determined. Let me have at it! After all, I’ve always been pretty good at sports.

So I hike my dress up, grab the gate’s frame firmly with both hands, and pull myself up, just like Ethan showed me. But as I stand on the hinge and look over at Ethan, I lose my nerve. My goodness, it’s a long fall to the ground from here! My knees wobble. I just need to swing my leg over the gate. I hold my breath and . . .

Riiiip
!
My new dress is not up to the task. I’m stuck up here, and something is torn. Crap! I could cry. But I grit my teeth, swing my other leg over, and let myself drop to the ground—right into Ethan’s waiting arms. He presses me against his chest, kisses me on the lips, and releases me. Whoops. Now I’m pretty dizzy. I hold on to the gate tightly and breathe deeply. I look down and see that my dress is torn from the hem almost up to my waist. I’m showing quite a bit of leg.

Ethan seems amused. “Oh, what a pity.”

Between the fiery kiss and involuntarily showing off so much skin, I feel bewildered. “That was a brand-new dress,” I say plaintively, wrapping my coat around myself. “Now it’s ruined.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” Ethan says, “but I didn’t like it, anyway. You looked like a Catholic schoolgirl in it. And those ballerina flats . . .” He reaches for my hair and unpins my updo, and my hair falls to my shoulders. Normally I wouldn’t appreciate being manhandled like this, but when Ethan does it, I feel special and fraught with excitement.

“You should always wear your hair down and have the courage to dress a bit more provocatively,” Ethan says. “You’re much too pretty for such a frumpy outfit.”

I make a mental note of everything he says. If I want to please him, I’ll need to dress differently. I vow to adjust to his tastes immediately. If I had known, I would have worn something a little more daring, like the dress I wore to Hohensyburg.

“I’m sorry,” I say sheepishly. “I thought something dignified would be more appropriate for the occasion.”

“Dignified? What rubbish,” he says firmly. “You’re young and beautiful. You can flaunt it to the world. Personally, I don’t want to be seen with a Catholic schoolgirl. It’s not my style at all.” He glances appreciatively at my bare leg. “A little sexy is okay.” He notices that I’m shivering. “Here I am droning on while you’re freezing to death in your torn dress. Come on, let’s go back to the car, and I’ll take you home.”

His sudden thoughtfulness melts my heart. He’s not only my dream man but a gentleman, too. Ethan turns and pushes down on the gate’s latch. The gate swings open easily.

“Hold on a minute,” I say. “The gate was unlocked this whole time?”

“Of course,” Ethan says quietly.

I am outraged. “Does this mean that I didn’t really have to climb over the gate?”

“It does,” Ethan says impassively. He laughs at the bitter expression on my face. “It’s an old student prank, Lea. At some point, every student at Cambridge falls for it. Today it was you.”

“Well, that’s just great,” I say angrily. “And here I thought you were a gentleman.”

“I’m not—not one bit. I’m even going to kiss you without asking permission,” Ethan says. He lifts my chin and kisses me far longer and more passionately than he did just moments ago. His kiss is sweet, and I feel like putty in his hands. I’m no longer cold; instead, I feel warm and fuzzy inside and out.

Ethan ends the kiss abruptly and says brusquely, “Now, true to my word, I’ll take you home.”

I’m deeply disappointed. I was hoping that this romantic evening would last even longer. Stupid dress! I can’t go anywhere looking like this. I have no alternative but to return to my room. We trek through the Trinity College courtyard and walk past the old kitchen’s illuminated windows. The music is still blaring. If I had insisted on staying longer to dance, my dress wouldn’t be torn and I’d still be having a lot of fun. On the other hand, Ethan wouldn’t have kissed me.
It was worth it
, I tell myself in consolation. Even better, he has now wrapped his arm around my waist. It feels wonderful. Silently, we walk to the car. A thousand thoughts swirl around my mind.
What does the future hold for us now? Is this just a flirtation or the beginning of something more? What do I mean to Ethan? Do I mean as much to him as he does to me? Of course, I don’t dare ask these questions aloud. I’m afraid I might not like the answer. I tell myself I’d rather wait and see how it goes, although I’m dreadfully anxious. I’ve never been with anyone so perfect before. I don’t want to say or do anything that will scare Ethan away. I would never forgive myself.

Ethan unlocks the car and opens the passenger door for me. He waits until I’m in, then sits behind the wheel and takes off. Ethan doesn’t say a word. I’m sure he’s just as preoccupied as I am. I wonder if similar thoughts are going through his mind. I consider breaking the ice with some small talk, something like, “What a nice evening.” I decide against it.
Sometimes silence is more significant than a lot of useless chitchat
, I think. Ethan is the strong, silent type, and, of course, silence is golden. When he speaks, he always has something important to say.

Ethan finally does say something: “You’re doing it again.”

Crap! I immediately stop chewing my nails and sit on my hands.

He pulls up in front of the house and cuts the motor. Now what? Should I ask him in? Suddenly, I picture us in the horrible broom closet, surrounded by dust. No, that wouldn’t do at all. Besides, it wouldn’t be appropriate to bring someone else when I’m a guest myself.

“I’m surprised,” Ethan says. I’m all ears. What is he talking about? “Since your dress tore, you’ve been acting very differently than usual.”

I don’t understand what he’s getting at and say warily, “Oh yeah?”

Ethan nods. “When I first met you, you seemed so free and easygoing. If you had a mishap, you just laughed it off. I almost found your lightheartedness a bit irritating.”

Now I feel even more uptight than before. What is he saying? Does he dislike something about me? I concentrate intensely on his words and pray that I can tell him what he wants to hear. I have a hunch that this has something to do with my being “unusual.”

I ask carefully, “What mishaps are you talking about?”

Ethan grins. “Every time I see you, there are mishaps, Lea. First there was our encounter at the train station, when you couldn’t find the door handle. Then there was the episode where the cat ate a crêpe. From what I understand, your scene on the river was particularly entertaining. Oh, and there was the time you lost your umbrella on the bus.”

Oh yeah, I remember everything exactly and blush. At the time, I thought it was hilarious when my umbrella flew away. But not so much right now. Strange.

Ethan continues, “The thing with the dress was just a stupid accident. I would have thought you’d take it in stride like you take everything else.”

I think it over. Yes, Ethan is right. I’m starting to doubt myself now.

Ethan smiles at my concern. “Don’t worry about it too much, Lea. It was just something I noticed, nothing more. In principle, it’s okay. To be honest, I actually believe it’s better not to laugh about everything. A ripped dress is annoying, especially when it’s brand new. I’m sorry, it was my fault. I’d like to make things up to you by buying you a new dress.”

I protest vigorously. “That’s out of the question! I was the one who was stupid enough to climb over the gate. It was bound to go wrong.”

“Did you pack another dress with you?” he asks.