Scent of Triumph by Jan Moran Read Free Book Online

set.
    * * *
    The Leibowitz home was in Belgravia, an exclusive area of London. Danielle caught her breath when she entered the gracious foyer. “What a lovely home, Mrs. Leibowitz.”
    “Thank you, my dear.” Libby removed her gloves, handed them to a butler. “But you must call me Libby. All my friends do.”
    The wood parquet floors and Aubusson rugs reminded Danielle of her parents’ home in Paris, and the Bretancourt family chateau in Grasse.
And how I miss my parents, too
, she realized. French Impressionist and J.W. Turner paintings lined the walls, and gleaming vases of fresh roses scented the air. With a pang of sadness, Danielle noticed silver-framed photographs of attractive, smiling people—much like the photographs that filled her own home.
Would she ever see it again?
She asked, “Your family?”
    “And extended family.” Libby met Danielle’s gaze. “Love is really the most important element in any home, isn’t it?”
    Libby motioned to a uniformed servant. “Sarah here, our upstairs maid, will find some suitable clothing for you. You must get out of those damp clothes right away. Come with me, I’ll show you to your rooms.”
    Danielle and Max followed her up a sweeping mahogany staircase, its rail polished to a smooth sheen, sleek beneath Danielle’s hand. She caught the faint aroma of lemon oil. A crystal chandelier sparkled overhead, as fine as their own factory produced, she noted, frowning as she thought of their employees’ fate. A stab of sorrow sliced through her.
    They reached the second floor and Libby turned. “I want to reiterate that you’re welcome here for as long as you wish.”
    “You are too kind,” Max said.
    “Not at all. It’s a little selfish on my part, really. You see, we were not blessed with children. We tried to claim Abigail and Jonathan as our own, but their parents wouldn’t hear of it.” She smiled wistfully. “A home this size needs people. You’ll give us company and conversation. I think it’s a fair trade. I only wish the circumstances were more favorable.”
    “So do I,” Danielle said.
    “Here we are.” Libby opened a door at the end of the hall. Danielle stepped inside. The plush carpet felt soft beneath her bare feet, which were rough and bruised from her ordeal.
    The guest suite stretched the width of the building and consisted of a sitting room, bedroom, and bathroom. English Hepplewhite mahogany furniture and a sunny yellow and peach tapestry combined to create a setting of serene elegance.
    A fireplace graced the sitting room and filled it with the comforting aroma of crackling wood. Danielle crossed to the windows, where a delicate Chippendale writing desk overlooked a manicured garden. She gazed out at a green maze of clipped hedges woven among a colorful blanket of well-tended roses. Tall trees in the early stage of coppery fall foliage surrounded the perimeter. Danielle sighed. How could she ever again enjoy such beauty, in the face of such worry and heartache?
    Her thoughts were drawn to another lovely garden a thousand miles away. She remembered their beloved home, her son, and Sofia. Her head tingled, her skin grew cold. She gripped a chair for support.
    “Oh my dear, please sit down,” Libby said. “You’re white as a ghost. A hot bath and a nap should do wonders.”
    Danielle sank onto the chair, her head spinning.
    Max started toward her. “Is it the baby?”
    “I’ll be fine, Max.” She waved him away.
Of course it’s the baby! And the war, and my son, and Sofia, and....
    Libby clicked her tongue and plumped a pillow on the bed. “Right, then. There are dressing gowns, fresh towels, and feather down pillows, and writing paper in the desk. My butler, Hadley, will see to your post and telegrams if you wish. You’re welcome to use the telephone. There’s one in the library downstairs. Simply give the number you wish to call and the operator will ring back when your call is answered. If there is anything else, Sarah will