Chapter 13 ALEX
AT PRECISELY ONE P.M., I collected Nancy for our date.
I knew Evelyn wouldn’t comment. In fact, there was a good chance she would approve.
Nancy was much more down-to-earth than the previous women I’d dated, some of whom Evelyn needed to screen calls from when things soured.
This time was different. And while I couldn’t explain why, my instincts told me not to question it.
What I did know was that there was no lingering ache when in her company.
The doors of the lift opened onto the basement, where Evan waited by the Range Rover. “Nancy, this is Evan, my driver and bodyguard.”
“Pleasure to meet you.” She extended her hand.
“Likewise, Ms Cooper.” Evan shook it, and I thought I spotted a rare approving curve of his mouth, matching my own expression. None of my previous dates had ever shaken his hand.
Nancy slid into the back seat, and I joined her. Her eyes widened as she looked around at the blacked-out windows and raised privacy screen confining the space. She pulled her handbag closer. “Are we going on a journey?”
“Not a long one.” I smiled reassuringly. The nerves pouring off her were a testament to how outside her comfort zone our date must have been. Yet here she was, willing to give us a try.
Her posture eased a little. “Is that all I get?”
“Patience, Nancy.” I rested my hands in my lap and gave her a sly side-eye.
She scoffed and shook her head. Evan turned the car out of the basement and took the first right and the following right.
A minute later, we pulled up at The Gherkin.
“Here we are.” I put on the black baseball cap and sunglasses I always kept tucked in my pocket for moving about in public, and held out my hand.
“Seriously?” Nancy laughed and took it, stepping out into the City’s lunchtime bustle. “I think we could have walked.”
“Ah, but that wouldn’t achieve the covert effect we’re going for.” I tipped my cap and interlocked with her arm.
She sniggered. “Whatever you say, Mr Bond.”
“Which one?” Not Roger Moore. Please not Roger Moore.
“Hmm,” she considered. “That’s still to be decided.”
I pressed the button for Searcys on the top floor, and she looked at me, trying to hide a smirk. “What is it?”
“It’s just you and towers.”
I looked down at her and removed my cap. “It must be the beautiful view.”
The lift opened, and Nancy gasped. We were surrounded by glass that showcased a sweeping three-hundred-and-sixty-degree view of London.
Next to us stood the City’s superstructures, of which my tower stood proudest. Beyond the lift, a single waiter guided us to a table for two in the centre of the restaurant.
The unobscured peak of the building’s glass dome sat directly above.
She looked about in wonder, and I watched her, satisfied.
We were the only people there. I’d hired the entire place for our secret lunch date.
“This is pretty slick.”
“I’m glad you approve.” I pulled out a chair for her to sit before flicking my jacket buttons free and taking the seat across. Some light piano music started from below, and she glanced in its direction. “Bach,” I answered her unasked question.
“Ah.” She took a sip of water and eyed the polished silverware.
“Is it too much?”
“No, no, it’s just a little overwhelming. I’m not used to it.”
“That is a tragedy I will do my best to amend,” I said sincerely.
She scanned for a menu, but none was on the table. “So, what are we eating?”
“They do a great afternoon tea, I thought we’d enjoy.”
“Like little sandwiches and cakes?”
I nodded. It wouldn’t have been my first choice, but at least it would be something familiar, given she ate the same packed lunch every day.
“Sounds good.” Nancy looked out at the view with a restless energy.
“And there’s champagne if you would like it.”
“Well, I’ve still got an afternoon of work to face…but maybe one glass.”
I gestured to the waiter, who brought over a bottle of Dom Pérignon in an ice bucket and poured us each a glass. “To beginnings,” I said, clinking her flute. She smiled and took a sip, looking pleasantly surprised. “So, tell me more about yourself.”
“Sure, what would you like to know?” She unconsciously rapped her fingers against the tablecloth.
I refrained from reaching for her hand. “I’ve been intrigued by your name. It’s classic.”
“Is that a compliment?”
“Absolutely. Nancy Mitford: nineteen twenties satirist, socialite, Bright Young Thing.”
“Well, I’m definitely not a socialite; I’m too much of an introvert. Bright…I hope so.” She placed her glass down carefully. “How about Sister Nancy?”
“You were named after a nun?”
She laughed out loud, visibly relaxing. “No, the singer. You know, ‘Bam Bam’.”
“I can’t say I do, but I’ll look it up. Why did your father decide to name you after a singer?”
Nancy scoffed. “Mum and Gran named me, although Dad approved of the choice. Mum wanted a name that reflected my roots. Sister Nancy was the first Jamaican female MC, and my mum and Gran both have cy names.”
“Cy names?”
“Lucy was my gran, Tracy is my mum, and yours truly.” She tapped the base of her glass. “I take it from your comment that your father named you.”
“Yes, although there wasn’t as much thought put into it. Over half of my male ancestors were called Alexander. I’m the seventh.”
She chuckled. “He’s not big into originality, then?”
“He’s big into tradition. That’s what matters.”
“Is that why you’re not keen on being addressed as ‘lord’?” Her insight caused me to shift in my seat.
“The title certainly has its uses, but it feels too formal for you.”
She watched me. “That’s a shame.”
Oh really? Something about Nancy seemed too innocent for role-play. But then, you never could tell, especially with the quiet ones. “So, how long have you lived in London?” I diverted.
“My whole life. Born and raised on…World’s End Estate in the west of Chelsea.”
I nodded, already knowing this, but it was a good sign she was willing to say. “I also grew up around Chelsea. Before I attended boarding school, that is.”
Nancy’s brows flashed playfully. “Oh yeah, let me guess. Eton, Harrow?”
“Eton. It’s another of our family traditions. And before that, Wetherby Preparatory School in town.” I couldn’t help but frown at the mention.
She tilted her head. “You don’t sound too thrilled. Didn’t you enjoy it?”
“I enjoyed school, but I preferred boarding to attending day school.”
“Wasn’t boarding lonely?”
“It could be, but I made it my home.”
The waiter interrupted us, bringing over a three-tier silver platter neatly arranged with trimmed sandwiches and an assortment of bite-sized cakes. Nancy thanked him, and I gestured that I’d serve.
“School was better when my brother joined, although he’s two years younger and needed extra support.”
“Why’s that?”
“He’s deaf.”
“Are you two close?”
“Very. William also lives in Chelsea. We hang out a lot and row together.”
“I think I’d have liked a brother or sister,” she said, examining a cucumber sandwich before popping it into her mouth.
I smiled at her small admission and retook my seat. “Was that not on the cards?”
“Mum was seventeen when she had me. She and Dad were school sweethearts, but his parents planned to return to Jamaica. He asked her marry him, but she didn’t want to leave Gran.
So, Mum, Gran, and I lived together on the estate until she died when I was twelve.
Mum never got with anyone else, so it was just us two from then on. ”
To my surprise, her tone reflected little sadness. “It sounds lonely.”
“It never felt that way. There were always people around growing up. I’ve known my mates Jem and Kim since our mums went to baby group together.
And Gran lived on World’s End since it was built.
Between her and Mum, they knew most people by face or name.
Their friends would hang out at ours when I was growing up, and Mum’d do their hair.
There are like twenty different women I call auntie.
” She laughed at the recollection. “And school was right around the corner, my friends went there, and we still hang out.”
I spent a moment considering. “Then, I rather envy you.”
“Really?” Nancy baulked and took another sip of champagne. “That’s the last comment I expected to hear from a lord.” She dropped her gaze, but I wasn’t offended. Her honesty was deeply refreshing.
“It sounds like you’re close to your family, and you enjoy living there.”
She considered my assessment while trying the salmon and cream cheese, not at all phased by showing her appetite.
My lips curved, satisfied. “Yes and no. It hasn’t been easy.
We’ve always had to scrape by, and we don’t own our place; it’s a council property.
But we like living on World’s End. It can get a bad rep, but it’s overstated.
We know our neighbours. Mum volunteers with this and that. We still have a community there.”
“Well, that is somewhat rare… I don’t think I’ve said more than three words at a time to my neighbours.”
“So, where’s home for you?” Nancy rested her chin on her palm while sampling a pink macaroon.
My gaze lingered on the sugar coating her bottom lip. “I’ve got a house on The Boltons.”
“Wow, nice location.”
“It’s…quiet. I’ll have to give you a tour sometime.” I rubbed my finger along my chin, testing a theory.
Her gaze dropped to my mouth. “Sure, I’d like that.”
Silence ensued while we eyed each other. I broke it with a question I’d been dying to ask. “So, why do you ride a motorcycle?”
She shrugged. “A girl’s gotta get around town somehow.”
“That’s not the reason.”
My candour caused her to look down at her plate. “Because it gives me freedom, independence…power.”
“Didn’t you have those things before?”
A veiled expression drew over her, and she looked away at the panorama. “I can’t get over this view.”
“I’d rather look at you,” I said softly.
Her eyes drew back to mine, and I smiled reassuringly, then lifted my flute and took a sip. Her eyes focused on the signet ring. “What’s the design on your ring?
“It’s my family crest, the rose and stag.” I placed my glass down, removed the ring, and held it out for her.
She took it in surprise and examined the emblem.
“The stag symbolises strength, courage, and nobility.”
“And the rose.”
“Beauty, honour, and England.”
She smiled mischievously, handing it back. “That seems like an awful lot for one little pinkie to carry around all day.”
I took the ring and slid it back on my finger. “It’s not that little.”
She blinked a few times, looking scandalised, then hid the blush growing on her cheeks with a long sip of champagne, inevitably finishing the glass.
Her eyes widened in further embarrassment, realising she’d broken her one-drink rule less than halfway through lunch.
I couldn’t help but chuckle and raised my glass in salute, downing it in one.
She held back a laugh, and I motioned to the bottle of champagne for a refill. She nodded, relaxing once again.