Page 38 of A Snowfall of Silver

He shrugs. “You look nice,” he says, clearly changing the subject.

I do a little spin. “All Nora, of course.”

“I don’t think she can take quite all of the credit.”

“Just most of it?”

“I don’t know.” His smile is real again now. “I think most of it is just you.”

“There you are!” a voice booms, and the mass fluttering and twittering of the autograph hunters before me tells me that Russ has arrived.

I turn around to face him, and his eyes travel slowly over me. He is devastating in a dinner suit, his dark hair curling over his collar.

“Well, well, well,” he says, looking like the proverbial cat. “Just give me a moment, will you, darling?” He turns the full beam of his charm on to the gathering of fans. They look dazzled and I can see why. When Russ makes his mind up to charm you, it is like nothing else.

Kit stands beside me, watching as Russ signs autographs, smiling his enchanting smile. “Have a good time tonight,” he says.

“Don’t you want to warn me off him?” I ask. “I promise you, everyone else has.”

“I don’t need to warn you off anyone, Freya,” he says lightly. “You should make whatever decisions you want.” He grins at me. “And, anyway, you and I both know you’re not going to get your heart broken by a man as trivial as Russell Whitmore.”

“I’m not?” I say. “That’s a shame. Experiencing heartbreak would probably enrich my performance no end.”

Kit laughs and shakes his head. “Be careful what you wish for. Have fun,” he says, dodging round the group huddled about Russ and heading back inside.

For a second I look after him, wishing that he and I were going out for dinner instead. Everything is so easy with Kit.

Russ appears at my elbow, leaning down to kiss me lightly on the cheek. “Sorry about that,” he murmurs. “Fans.” He says it with a grimace, but he can’t disguise his obvious enjoyment. “And may I say, you look ravishing?”

“You may,” I reply as he touches my elbow, guiding me lightly down the street. “You do too,” I add, because of course he does. His hair falls just right over his forehead, his jacket fits him like a glove, emphasizing his broad shoulders, his white teeth flash, perfect like a toothpaste advert. He is like a collection of beautiful parts: difficult to take him all in at once. The effect is overwhelming.

I feel as though a Hollywood icon has stepped out of the screen and taken me by the arm. And I am enjoying it; of course I am, I’m eighteen and wearing a beautiful dress and there’s a handsome man taking me out for dinner and dancing. My heartbeat accelerates at the thought of it all. I feel, I realize, quite like someone else.

The restaurant Russ takes me to is exactly what I had imagined – white tablecloths, heavy silverware, dim lighting. We’re seated at a table in the corner, and I get the impression that Russ arranged it that way – and not for the first time. He pulls out my chair for me, his hand brushing against the bare skin at the top of my arm, just for a second.

As he sits down opposite me, and orders drinks from the waiter, I look about with interest at the crowd, mostly older, well-dressed, and already on to their desserts – thanks to the play, we’re eating decadently late.

“I like this place,” I say.

“I’m glad,” he smiles, as the waiter returns and hands me a perfectly chilled saucer of champagne with a twist of lemon and a sugar cube in the bottom. Of course the girl in the golden dress drinks cocktails.

Russ lifts his glass, and winks at me over the top. I take a sip, and it is sweet and delicious, melting the tension from my body.

“So, this is where you take all your girls?” I ask, admiring the monogram embroidered on the perfectly pressed tablecloth.

Russ chokes on his drink, and I look up.

“Sorry,” I say. “Is it bad form to mention the other girls?”

“It’s … not typical,” Russ admits, a gleam of laughter in his eye.

I think about that. “I won’t ask about them, then.” I lean my elbows on the table. “I want to be very typical tonight.”

“I don’t think it’s possible for you to be typical, Freya,” he says. “You are unique.”

“How well you turned that around into a compliment.” I look at him admiringly. “That was very smooth, even if being unique is actually true of every girl.”

“Thank you,” Russ manages, taking another swig of his drink.