Brave Hearts Read Online Free Page B

first time in years.
    â€œYou’re very obnoxious, you know,” she said finally.
    â€œObnoxious and persistent. Now, when am I going to see you again?”
    She heard herself saying, “I don’t know. My schedule is very busy this week.”
    â€œWhat about right now?”
    â€œNo, I have a guest coming for late tea, and I’m going to a concert tonight.”
    â€œTomorrow then.”
    â€œAll right,” she said abruptly. “Tomorrow.”
    They agreed to meet at the Park Square entrance to Regent’s Park at three. Catharine replaced the receiver. She felt as if she’d cut a link to something strong and vital, but she could feel the softness in her face. Tomorrow. Thursday. She would see him then.
    But slowly, happiness faded, replaced by a gnawing realism. If she met him, wouldn’t it make it that much harder, ultimately, to say good-bye? What would happen to them? He had laughed and she had shared his laughter, but didn’t she know in her heart exactly what he wanted—and she, too?
    Jack wouldn’t settle for friendship. She didn’t need to be told that. If she met him, didn’t she know in her heart, especially in her heart, where that road would lead?
    Of course, she did.
    Catharine walked slowly across the drawing room to stand by the back windows and look out at the neat garden, given over now that it was wartime to tomato plants, rows of lettuces and radishes, and a few stalks of corn.
    If she met Jack tomorrow, there would be other tomorrows.
    The front door chimes rang softly.
    Catharine closed her eyes briefly and when they opened, her face was set in a pleasant smile. She turned to greet the young woman brought by Fontaine to the drawing room.
    â€œMiss Redmond, Mrs. Cavanaugh.”
    Catharine walked across the room, her hand extended. “Priscilla, I’m so glad you could come.”
    She’d met Priscilla in War Relief work. Priscilla was unmarried, a devoted daughter to an invalid and widowed mother. She took what free time she had and devoted it to raising funds for those widowed and orphaned by the war. Her rather dowdy gray skirt and high-necked silk blouse reflected both modest circumstances and gentility.
    Priscilla smiled shyly. Juggling a notebook and a sheaf of papers, she reached out to take Catharine’s hand. Her pale cheeks carried an unaccustomed flush of excitement.
    â€œI’m going to be able to go to America for the Society, Catharine. Mother’s going to stay with my oldest brother and his wife in Surrey. Oh, I am so looking forward to going.” She walked with Catharine toward the fire. “And I certainly appreciate your willingness to help me with introductions. This will be my first time in the New World.”
    â€œI’m delighted to be of help,” Catharine said warmly. She led the way to two Empire chairs near the fireplace. “Would you like a cup of tea?”
    â€œVery much.”
    Catharine nodded to Fontaine. She and Priscilla chatted stiffly until the tea came. Catharine poured the tea into delicate Spode cups and offered sugar and cream.
    â€œWhere in the world did you come up with Darjeeling tea now?” Priscilla asked.
    â€œSomehow Fontaine has a store of it. I hesitate to ask how it was acquired.”
    They both laughed.
    They bent over Priscilla’s papers and she eagerly described the tour she was planning in America to raise money for the War Relief Fund.
    â€œThe first stop will be in New York City, of course. I’m very excited.”
    Catharine nodded. “I’ll send a letter to my brother, Ted. He’s a lawyer there. I know he and Betty will help set up some meetings.”
    Priscilla listed the other stops, ending in Washington, D.C. She looked up shyly at Catharine. “Some of the board members think I might raise as much as ten thousand pounds.”
    â€œOh, yes, I should think so,” Catharine agreed. “Perhaps even more.