Read Online The Lucky Ones by Anna Godbersen - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Anna Godbersen
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tall, smiling boy in a tuxedo jacket, her body not so much tiny as exquisitely delicate in his arms.
“Is that me?” she heard herself say.
“Yes, if the New York Troubadour knows anything at all. ‘Miss Letty Larkspur, who has fast become inseparable from our leading light Sophia Ray, was seen dancing on the Ritz roof with the up-and-coming player for Montrose Filmic Company, Laurence Peters, at dawn…’” Valentine pushed the paper toward Letty, and she quickly scanned the column, as though she were afraid he might have made it all up. “Sound like you?”
“I guess, it’s only that…,” Letty whispered, as she began to read the item again from the top. “Well, the funny thing is, I don’t remember being on the Ritz roof.”
“No?” Valentine chuckled. “I suppose that doesn’t surprise me, really. You fell asleep in one of their salons sometime after eating breakfast late last night, and Hector had to carry you to the car. Must have been quite a party. Seems Sophia fell ill and had to take a room at the Ritz for the night.”
“Oh.” Letty couldn’t bring herself to look at Valentine. The image of Jack Montrose’s sneer rose up in her thoughts, and she felt a little sick.
“Yes. Must have been quite a night you girls had.”
If she heard any more details of the evening, Letty feared she might reveal what she suspected had transpired between Sophia and Montrose. There were a few seconds when she even thought she ought to. Seeing Valentine as he was now—ruffled in the morning and so kind and handsome—she knew that he deserved better. But she couldn’t bring herself to tell on the woman who had already taught her so much about how to be a New York girl, and she changed the subject in the only way she could think of: “Do you suppose they get the Troubadour in Ohio?”
Valentine met her eyes. “Why, do you have some fellow waiting for you back there?”
“No.” Letty shook her head emphatically, as though that would prevent her blush from lingering.
“Sophia thinks the world of you,” Valentine was saying as he turned his body toward the window. She watched the workings of his neck as he swallowed, and momentarily forgot the extraordinary fact of her name being in the paper as she gazed at the perfect line of his profile against the bright skyline. “Perhaps,” he went on quietly, “she sees something of her young self in you. Only—” He exhaled, and his eyelids sank closed, and when he spoke again it was with a tone that she’d never heard him use. “Only, don’t end up too much like her.”
“But isn’t that why I’m here?” Letty said before she could think how it would sound, or even what it meant.
Valentine stared at her, his eyes as deep as pools. The sunshine lancing through the window made him appear golden as he never could in the movies. “Show business is a hard business, and it has made Sophia tough; that is all I mean. You must not lose your sensitivity, and—and I would hate to see you hurt.”
The weight of his hands hovered over hers, and the room melted away. Letty felt the same way she had when she first met Valentine; his brown gaze was warm and steady in her direction, as though for the first time she was completely understood. The connection between them hung in the air, beautiful and ephemeral.
“There you go, miss,” Beryl said as she roughly slid a plate in front of Letty. The omelet was perfectly formed, on a white oval plate, garnished with a sprig of parsley and a twist of grapefruit that frowned up at her accusatorily.
“What a happy sight this is!”
Letty’s head swiveled and she saw Sophia, framed in the doorway to the living room, her hair rather limp but her lipstick freshly applied, wearing a tuxedo jacket over her turquoise evening gown. It took Letty several seconds to realize that Sophia was not being sarcastic, that she was truly pleased by the sight of her husband and her protégée cozily eating breakfast together. Then
“Is that me?” she heard herself say.
“Yes, if the New York Troubadour knows anything at all. ‘Miss Letty Larkspur, who has fast become inseparable from our leading light Sophia Ray, was seen dancing on the Ritz roof with the up-and-coming player for Montrose Filmic Company, Laurence Peters, at dawn…’” Valentine pushed the paper toward Letty, and she quickly scanned the column, as though she were afraid he might have made it all up. “Sound like you?”
“I guess, it’s only that…,” Letty whispered, as she began to read the item again from the top. “Well, the funny thing is, I don’t remember being on the Ritz roof.”
“No?” Valentine chuckled. “I suppose that doesn’t surprise me, really. You fell asleep in one of their salons sometime after eating breakfast late last night, and Hector had to carry you to the car. Must have been quite a party. Seems Sophia fell ill and had to take a room at the Ritz for the night.”
“Oh.” Letty couldn’t bring herself to look at Valentine. The image of Jack Montrose’s sneer rose up in her thoughts, and she felt a little sick.
“Yes. Must have been quite a night you girls had.”
If she heard any more details of the evening, Letty feared she might reveal what she suspected had transpired between Sophia and Montrose. There were a few seconds when she even thought she ought to. Seeing Valentine as he was now—ruffled in the morning and so kind and handsome—she knew that he deserved better. But she couldn’t bring herself to tell on the woman who had already taught her so much about how to be a New York girl, and she changed the subject in the only way she could think of: “Do you suppose they get the Troubadour in Ohio?”
Valentine met her eyes. “Why, do you have some fellow waiting for you back there?”
“No.” Letty shook her head emphatically, as though that would prevent her blush from lingering.
“Sophia thinks the world of you,” Valentine was saying as he turned his body toward the window. She watched the workings of his neck as he swallowed, and momentarily forgot the extraordinary fact of her name being in the paper as she gazed at the perfect line of his profile against the bright skyline. “Perhaps,” he went on quietly, “she sees something of her young self in you. Only—” He exhaled, and his eyelids sank closed, and when he spoke again it was with a tone that she’d never heard him use. “Only, don’t end up too much like her.”
“But isn’t that why I’m here?” Letty said before she could think how it would sound, or even what it meant.
Valentine stared at her, his eyes as deep as pools. The sunshine lancing through the window made him appear golden as he never could in the movies. “Show business is a hard business, and it has made Sophia tough; that is all I mean. You must not lose your sensitivity, and—and I would hate to see you hurt.”
The weight of his hands hovered over hers, and the room melted away. Letty felt the same way she had when she first met Valentine; his brown gaze was warm and steady in her direction, as though for the first time she was completely understood. The connection between them hung in the air, beautiful and ephemeral.
“There you go, miss,” Beryl said as she roughly slid a plate in front of Letty. The omelet was perfectly formed, on a white oval plate, garnished with a sprig of parsley and a twist of grapefruit that frowned up at her accusatorily.
“What a happy sight this is!”
Letty’s head swiveled and she saw Sophia, framed in the doorway to the living room, her hair rather limp but her lipstick freshly applied, wearing a tuxedo jacket over her turquoise evening gown. It took Letty several seconds to realize that Sophia was not being sarcastic, that she was truly pleased by the sight of her husband and her protégée cozily eating breakfast together. Then
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