“How would I like my steak done, madam?” Sebastian mimicked, smiling across at her.
“He’s also medium rare.”
“So—”
“How—”
“No, you first,” she said.
“So what brings an American girl to London?”
“My father’s in the diplomatic service, and he’s recently been posted here, so I thought it would be fun to spend a year in London.”
“And your mother, what does she do, Samantha?”
“Sam, everyone except my mother calls me Sam. My father was hoping for a boy.”
“Well, he failed spectacularly.”
“You’re such a flirt.”
“And your mother?” Sebastian repeated.
“She’s old-fashioned, just takes care of my father.”
“I’m looking for someone like that.”
“I wish you luck.”
“Why an art gallery?”
“I studied art history at Georgetown, and then decided to take a year off.”
“So what do you plan to do next?”
“I start work on my PhD in September.”
“What’s the subject going to be?”
“Rubens: Artist or Diplomat?”
“Wasn’t he both?”
“You’re going to have to wait a couple of years to find out.”
“Which university?” said Sebastian, hoping she wouldn’t be returning to America in a few weeks’ time.
“London or Princeton. I’ve been offered a place at both but haven’t made my mind up yet. And you?”
“I haven’t been offered a place at either.”
“No, stupid, what do you do?”
“I joined the bank after taking a year off,” he said as the waiter returned and placed two plates of ham and melon in front of them.
“So you didn’t go to university?”
“It’s a long story,” said Sebastian. “Another time perhaps,” he added as he waited for her to pick up her knife and fork.