“Maybe it feels right because we're not really together. Maybe we'd make each other as unhappy as they do. We don't know.” Everything that had been unspoken between them was now suddenly out in the open, and in some ways it was a relief. They had been hiding behind their friendship, and suddenly he was making it clear that he wanted more. But she was making it just as clear that it was impossible for her, no matter what she felt for him. There was far more at stake than that. And she wasn't going to throw Teddy's life or health away for the dream of a romance. She was far too sensible for that. No matter how much she cared about Bill, and admired him, her son came first. And he respected her for that, he always had, and always would.

“I accept what you're saying, Isabelle,” he said clearly, as they sat at a table under an umbrella, protecting them from the June sun. “I would never jeopardize Teddy's health. But I want you to know how much I care about you. I won't put you or your son at risk. In fact I'd like to help you with him if I can. But I'm not willing to pretend I don't give a damn, or that I don't want more. I want you to know that.”

“I know that, Bill,” she said softly. “You've been so good to me for so long.” For the past four years, other than her children, he was all she had.

“Not good enough. Not as good as I'd like to be.

I'm just tired of the hypocrisy of our lives. You pretend to be his wife, I pretend to give a damn when I go to black-tie events with Cindy. I'm not sure I can fake it anymore. I'm not sure I want to. I don't think the rewards are worth the price.”

“You may pay a much higher price if you don't play the game anymore.” She had questioned it all herself, and he had caught the bug and tried to incite her to riot. But Isabelle was prepared to be the reasonable one.

“Maybe one of these days I'll toss it all into a hat, and give it up. You never know,” Bill said calmly.

“You need to give it a lot of thought,” she said quietly, as he nodded, and took her hand in his. She had long, slender fingers, and beautiful, graceful hands.

“You're a remarkable woman,” he said quietly, with eyes full of emotion, “and a lot more sensible than I.”

“Maybe that's a good thing.” She lifted his hand to her lips then and kissed it. “You are my very dearest friend.” He couldn't speak for a moment, and she nodded. There was so much he wanted to say to her, but he knew from everything she had said to him that morning that it wasn't the right time.

“What would you like for lunch?” he said, trying to de-escalate the emotions that had nearly gotten the best of him. He couldn't even imagine what it would feel like when she left for Paris again. But there was no point thinking of it now.

They decided on pasta and salads, and they both stuck to safe subjects like books and art. And she thought he should write a book of his own about the political scene. She had said as much to him before.

But what would have made the book interesting were the secrets he couldn't divulge.

“Maybe when I retire,” he said as they got to dessert.

They had both calmed down by then. He wasn't sure why things had gotten out of hand that morning, except that he was so happy when he was with her, and it was hard to accept that there could never be more. He knew that in Teddy's lifetime she would never even think of leaving Gordon, and he hoped for her sake that her son would live for a long time.

After some earnest consultation, they went to the British Museum that afternoon, and didn't come out again until four. They went for a walk down New Bond Street, looking into the shop windows at paintings and jewelry, and walking along slowly arm in arm. He couldn't help thinking to himself again how comfortable he was, being with her. It was nearly six o'clock when they got back to Claridge's and decided to have tea. They had cucumber sandwiches, and others with tomato and watercress and egg salad and little biscuits that reminded her of her grandfather when she was a child. High tea was something she had always loved. It seemed so civilized to her, and he teased her about it. Bill said he'd much rather eat eclairs and petits-fours at Angelina's in Paris, or have ice cream at Berthillon. And she said she loved that too.

“When are you coming to Paris again?” she asked casually as they ate their sandwiches and she poured him another cup of tea.

“How about next week? I'm going to have terrible withdrawal after this week.”

“So am I,” she confessed. For all her brave statements about what they couldn't have, she felt the same pull that he did. When they were together, or even talking on the phone, it all seemed so right, to both of them. But it was forbidden fruit. Just being with him was a great gift.

“Where do you want to have dinner tonight?” he asked, as she rolled her eyes and laughed at him.

“How can you even think of eating again after all this? I won't be able to eat for a week.” But as far as they both knew, it was their last night. She was planning to leave the next day, late in the afternoon. She didn't really think she should stay over the following night, although she was tempted to, and he didn't want to push. He knew she felt she should get back to her son. And maybe, if he didn't press too hard this time, she'd be willing to do this again. It had been absolutely perfect for both of them.

“What about Mark's Club?” he asked, ignoring her protests about eating dinner again. “We can go late if you prefer.”

“That would be fun. I haven't been there in years. Actually,” she laughed, “I haven't been anywhere.”

“I'll make a reservation for nine o'clock.” He left the table for a moment to cross the lobby and speak to the concierge as she watched him go. He had an almost irresistible male grace as he sauntered across the lobby and spoke to the clerk at the hall porter's desk. And she continued to watch him as he walked back. “Why were you staring at me?” he asked, looking amused and faintly embarrassed. She was so beautiful, it made his heart ache sometimes just to look at her. He wanted to give her so much more, to go places with her, spend time with her, introduce her to his friends, take her to Washington and show her off. But he knew that neither of them could do that. This was as far afield as she could go.

“I was admiring you,” she confessed. “You're a very handsome man, Mr. Robinson.” She had felt that way about Gordon a long, long time ago. But not anymore. She knew him too well now, and the icy coldness of his heart.

“You're either crazy or blind,” Bill said, and then laughed, looking slightly uncomfortable, and then they got up and went upstairs. It was seven-thirty by then, and he said he was going to have a massage in his room while she dressed, and called home. “I'll pick you up at a quarter to nine. Does that give you enough time?”

“It's fine.” All she wanted to do was check on Teddy again, have a bath, do her hair, and dress, and she didn't take long.

“See you in a little while,” he said as he put an arm around her and kissed her cheek. And as he did, he was tempted to ask if she wanted to stay another night, if Teddy was doing well. But he thought he'd wait and see what she said after she called home, and spoke to the nurses and the boy.

And when she did, she was pleased with what she heard. Teddy had had another good day, and he was laughing when he talked to her. He and the nurse had been reading a book of jokes she'd bought for him before she left. He read her a couple of them, and she laughed with him, and she was smiling when she got in the bath. She had promised him she'd be home the following night. She was booked on a six o'clock flight, and it would be around nine o'clock Paris time when she got home. She had thought about staying another night, but it didn't seem fair to him.

She wore a simple white silk cocktail dress that night, with a white cashmere stole, her pearls again, and white silk Chanel shoes with black toes. She carried a white evening bag with nothing more than a lipstick and her room key in it. She didn't need more than that. And this time, she decided to wear her hair down. And Bill looked even more impressed than the previous night when she opened the door. He was obviously taken with her, and it pleased her no end.

There was such a softness to her, such a gentleness, and so much femininity. She defined everything he had always wanted in a woman, and all Bill could do was regret he hadn't found her years before.

“How was Teddy when you called?” he asked as they walked downstairs. Neither of them had the patience to wait for the elevator, and they preferred walking, down at least.

“He was in great form. He read me half a dozen jokes, and the nurse said she's never seen him so well. I don't know if it's the medication he's been on, or the weather, or just good luck. But whatever it is, I hope it holds. I told him I'd be home tomorrow night.”

“Oh,” Bill said, and she saw the look in his eyes as he turned to her on the last step. “I was hoping you might want to stay another night. I have to see the ambassador tomorrow, and I don't think I'll be free much before noon. That doesn't give us much time before your flight.”

“I know,” she said, as she tucked her hand into his arm. “I thought about that, but I didn't have the heart to tell him I wanted to stay another night. I suppose I could call tomorrow.”

“I wish you would,” he said honestly. “Why don't you ask him if he'd mind?” He didn't want to steal her from her son, but he wanted her to stay. And she wanted to stay too. She felt torn between her son and him, which was an unfamiliar feeling for her.

“I'll call in the morning and see how he feels. But I can't promise anything. If he has a bad night tonight, I should go home.” She was responsible above all.