Chapter Nine #2
Her mother let out a long sigh. ‘I did. I know it’s different for you, Nora.
I had other difficulties. My parents did not approve of Armen Magarian.
He was not English, not titled and not rich.
Even worse, he worked in trade. I met your father when he delivered a rare Turkey carpet to my friend’s home.
We talked and I found his travels fascinating.
He was different than the stuffy, boring Englishmen at dances and balls.
He was darkly handsome, educated—not from Oxford—but from an overseas monastery, and he had potential.
When he proposed, my parents refused his suit. ’
‘Then how…’
Nora’s eyes widened when she realized a fact that she’d never considered before. Perhaps it was because she’d never wanted to consider it. Nora was twenty-six years old, and her parents married twenty-seven years ago. Which meant…
‘You were pregnant with me,’ Nora said matter-of-factly.
Her mother’s normally stoic facade altered a bit. Her cheeks reddened. ‘Yes, it’s true. We shall not talk of it further.’
Well, if her mother was embarrassed by it after all these years, who was she to bring it up? Her sisters were wise enough to do the math, but they had never thought to do so. Nora would respect her mother and would not speak of it.
Then, even more unexpectedly, her mother stood and placed her hands on her shoulders. Looking into her eyes, she said, ‘Like I said, you will be fine, Nora. I have no doubt you are stronger than I was when I wed.’
After leaving the dressmakers after her final fitting with her maid in tow, Nora stepped onto Bond Street.
‘Are you thirsty, Jane?’ Nora asked her maid.
The woman eyed her. Jane was a few years older than Nora and a widow with brown hair and eyes. She was quiet and took her duties as a lady’s maid seriously. Rosey happened to be a maid for all sisters and had attended the house party, but Jane had been with just Nora for two years now.
‘Thirsty, miss? Perhaps we can visit Gunther’s. Or hurry home.’
‘I was thinking of another establishment. One across the street.’ Nora pointed to where a wooden sign for the White Bear tavern hung.
Jane let out a visible gasp. ‘A tavern? But that establishment is not…wouldn’t be at all appropriate for a young lady like—’
‘It will satisfy our thirsts.’ She grabbed her maid’s hand. ‘Come along then. I won’t tell Mother if you don’t.’
The drink Nora had in mind was whisky. Or a good gin. After spending days in Madame Fleur’s dress shop being poked and prodded for her wedding gown and trousseau, she believed she was entitled to one drink.
They entered the tavern. Men in corduroy jackets as well as finely tailored coats eyed the pair.
The women in the establishment were limited to barmaids and two others in brightly coloured gowns with low bodices.
Nora ignored them all and moved towards an empty table in the corner.
It was perfect. The lighting in the place was dim and the corner even dimmer and isolated.
She’d wait for the barmaid to approach to serve them.
Perched on the edge of her chair, Jane scanned the room with the frightened look of a rabbit being hunted by a dog.
‘Relax,’ Nora said. ‘It’s the middle of the afternoon. There are no brigands here.’
‘Brigands?’ Jane’s brown eyes widened in her pale face, and she looked around even more frantically. This time she reminded Nora of a bird in a cage with a hovering house cat.
A buxom red-haired barmaid approached. ‘What would you two lovelies be having?’
‘A whisky, please,’ Nora said.
The barmaid propped a hip on the table. ‘Oh, a bad day or a good one?’
‘A long one,’ Nora admitted. ‘And I’d like a drink to commemorate the end of my freedom.’
The barmaid gave Nora a sympathetic look, as if she understood her predicament. ‘I’ll be sure to bring the best the house offers.’ She turned her attention to the maid. ‘And you, miss? What will you be having?’
‘Water,’ Jane said. ‘But first, is there a retiring room in this place?’ She looked as if she might be ill.
The barmaid laughed. ‘An outhouse for the men. But follow me and I’ll show you where the ladies use. No one will disturb you and you can return on your own.’
Nora was left alone in the corner and let out a sigh. Jane would return soon enough. Until then she had a private moment to herself to—
‘What are you doing here?’
She looked up at the stern, masculine voice to see Ralston standing before her. He stood with his legs spread and his jaw tense. His dark hair looked even darker in the sparse lighting of the tavern. She was so surprised at his unexpected appearance, it took her a moment to answer.
‘What are you doing here?’ she responded with a question of her own.
‘I asked first.’
From her seat, she craned her neck to meet his gaze. ‘I’m thirsty.’
His eyebrows drew downward into dark slashes. ‘There are numerous establishments where a lady could go. May I ask why you are alone and unchaperoned in a tavern?’
‘No, my lord, as we are not yet married, I don’t believe you have the right to ask. But to put your mind at ease, my maid accompanied me and will return at any moment.’
His unreadable dark stare should have put her on guard, but the truth was she’d never feared him. Still, it would be foolish to irritate him on the eve of their wedding.
The barmaid sailed over with a tray full of tankards and a glass. She placed a whisky on the table. ‘To the end of your freedom, miss.’
Nora felt a tingling from her scalp to the pit of her stomach as Ralston pulled out a chair and sat beside her. ‘Perhaps,’ he said, lowering his voice. ‘I’d also like a whisky to celebrate with the lady.’
‘Yes, my lord.’
Ralston smiled at the barmaid, and she hurried to do his bidding.
His calm demeanor was more intimidating than any show of anger. ‘You do not have to stay,’ she said.
‘You prefer to drink alone?’
‘I’m not alone. My maid is with me, remember?’
Just returning, Jane spotted Ralston sitting with Nora and scurried back to the bar.
‘Oh, dear. You’ve upset my maid,’ Nora said.
He responded with a slow, devilish smile. ‘I’ll apologize to her later.’
The barmaid returned and set his whisky before him.
Nora swallowed, her throat suddenly dry, and raised her drink.
‘Wait,’ he said. ‘You wanted to celebrate.’
She shook her head. ‘I didn’t mean it.’ At least not with him. How could she drink to the last day of her freedom with him sitting beside her?
‘Well, now that we are sitting here,’ he said, his voice even, ‘let’s celebrate together. How about a toast?’
‘To what?’
‘To finally being alone before our wedding.’
This was a simple request. They hadn’t been alone since the village fair. His visits at her home had always been chaperoned and his behavior had been proper and stiff. Seeing him in a non-formal setting could be welcome. Would he act differently?
Still, her suspicions arose. He must be angry at finding his fiancée drinking in a tavern. She wouldn’t let down her guard. ‘I suppose we have not spoken privately since returning to Town. My mother is ever-present and watches us like a hawk.’
They both sipped their whisky. The liquor burned her throat and settled low in her stomach.
His dark eyes studied her. ‘Are you nervous to marry?’
She lowered her glass. ‘What bride wouldn’t be? Are you?’
He shrugged. ‘What groom wouldn’t be?’
The warmth in his voice sent her heartbeat into dangerous territory. She was also surprised at his honesty.
‘Marriage has us both feeling uneasy,’ he said.
Once more, she admired his confession. There was a budding honesty between them at the moment.
‘I know my attention has been split between the wedding and the first reading of my bill,’ he said.
Her interest was piqued by this. ‘When is it?’ A month had passed since the house party and it was now May.
‘I fear the timing isn’t perfect. Parliament is in session until it winds down come mid-July. The reading of my bill is the day after our wedding.’
The timing did not bother her, but it must be stressful for him. ‘So soon? I wish you the best.’
He smiled. ‘And I’ll be sure to stand by your side at the wedding. And afterwards at the wedding breakfast. If it is too much, you must let me know. There is no set rule that we must stay until the very end. Our guests can enjoy themselves without the couple.’
Her gaze lifted to his, to the dark enigma of his eyes. He was trying to quell her worries and she appreciated his support, more than he knew. ‘Thank you.’ The simple words were the only ones that came to mind.
‘Enjoy the rest of your drink, Nora. If you don’t mind, I’ll wait until you’re finished with the whisky and escort you home myself.’