‘Class act, aren’t I?’ she smiled.
‘No, no. The flat’s in chaos, so I’ve sorted it out. Some of the stuff has been shipped out to Peru. At least we’ll have a bit more space to sit, have dinner. Oh shit. Something’s burning.’
‘Supper?’ said Ros with a grimace.
Dom disappeared into the tiny galley kitchen and returned holding a blackened pan.
‘What was that?’ she asked, peering into its depths.
‘Chicken à la King.’
‘No longer looking too royal.’
‘Let’s go out,’ he said grabbing her hand.
Twenty minutes later, they were in a quiet French restaurant on a side street in Covent Garden. As the light outside faded and the waiter lit the candle placed between them, Ros thought she could be back in Paris.
Dom smiled at her, and his expression was so loving, she felt guilty for doubting him.
‘Thanks for cooking,’ she said as the waiter poured them glasses of crisp white wine.
‘Thanks for putting up with me,’ he replied, clinking his goblet against hers.
She raised her eyebrows. ‘The expedition?’
He nodded. ‘I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said in France, and you’re right. For so long it has been just me. I haven’t had anyone or anything else to think about in any decision I make, except maybe the readers of Capital. But now there’s you. You are the most important thing in my life and I want to make some changes to accommodate that. To accommodate you.’
‘You make me sound like a four-poster bed you’ve got to squeeze into a studio room,’ she laughed. Ros never felt comfortable with compliments or emotion, but secretly she was thrilled with his words. After the tension at Les Cyprès, she had never imagined he would say them.
‘I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to do,’ she said, treading carefully. Half of her was still imagining it was a trick. ‘Travel, adventure, it’s your lifeblood. I don’t want to change you. The only thing I want is for you to be happy. For us to be happy.’
‘We could go and live in Paris. Or the South of France. Get that shack you liked the sound of, with the bed for two.’
‘What about Capital?’
‘We could set up a French sister publication. For English-speaking ex-pats. Robert can run the London edition, I can become international chief, and you, Rosamund Bailey, rising star of the industry, can be editor-in-chief, Capital Paris.’
‘Now that sounds like an adventure,’ she said grinning.
The enthusiasm on his face softened.
‘But first I need to go to Peru. I can’t pull out now.’
It was the first time she had ever heard him talk about the expedition with anything other than excitement.
‘I don’t want you to pull out,’ she said softly.
‘You don’t?’ he said with surprise.
Ros paused as the waiter brought their food. Then she took a fortifying mouthful of boeuf bourguignon and looked at Dominic.
He frowned. ‘What is it?’
‘I went to the Foreign Office today.’
‘The FO? Why?’
‘Because I’ve decided to come with you to the Amazon.’