“So tell me, Lydia. What are your thoughts about last night?”
He sipped his tea and made a face.
“I’m not really a tea-drinker,” he muttered.
Lydia, meanwhile, tried to gather her wits for what she felt might be a challenging discussion.
“Last night was nice,” she said.
Von Ritter inclined his head, an indication that she should expand her answer.
“But?” he said.
“But…nothing. It was nice. I enjoyed it.”
“All of it?”
“Apart from Milan being weird. Everything apart from that.”
“What did you enjoy the most?”
She took a deep breath. “Your company.”
He smiled.
“I’m honoured. So, are you saying you want more of it? My company, that is?”
“Yes.”
The word was out. She felt light and free. She smiled with the unexpected pleasure of doing what she wanted, instead of what she ought.
“Right.”
He paused to stir his tea again. Lydia felt as if she were awaiting a verdict in a trial. It was almost as if he were psyching himself up to reject her. But that wouldn’t make sense. Why would he do that, after the kiss and bringing her here?
“Lydia, I’m very conscious of the fact that we don’t know each other very well.”
“Not yet.”
“Indeed. Not yet.” He smiled. “Before we go any further, I’m going to tell you something about myself. Something that might alter your opinion of me.”
“Oh. Gosh. Go on, then.”
“I mentioned having certain tastes that don’t appeal to all.”
“Ah. Yes, I remember.”
“I’m going to tell you what those tastes are. If you then decide to walk away, you must promise me you won’t tell a soul. I don’t want this repeated as gossip all over the orchestra. Is that clear?” His mouth, a straight line, challenged her to defy him.
A little afraid, Lydia nodded.
“I’m not a gossip.”
“Good.”
“Okay, then. When it comes to relationships, I like things a certain way.”
“What way?”