Chapter Twenty-Three
Nora returned home in a rush and hurried to her science room.
After meeting with Lady Weber, she’d gone to her childhood home to speak with her sisters.
Lady Weber had been understanding, both about the gossip rag and her offer to travel abroad, and would do her best to misdirect the gossip.
Tongues would waddle for a few days, but then there was another scandal to take its place.
Lady Sheffield’s youngest daughter was rumored to have been caught in the hay with the stable boy.
Still, the gossip rag was never far from Nora’s mind.
She needed support from her sisters and their shoulders to cry upon.
Her journal lay open upon her desk with the list she’d started before the housekeeper had shown her the awful, devastating Tatler. She still felt a sickening despair when she thought of the consequences such gossip was likely to bring.
The door swung open without a knock. Heart pounding, she whirled to see Ralston in the doorway.
He stood tall and still and did not bother to enter.
His normally meticulous attire looked askew.
His cravat was loose, the top button of his waistcoat unfastened.
Something was off. ‘Are you home to finish your list?’ he drawled.
She blinked. ‘Pardon?’
He took a step inside. ‘Your list. Your reasons for leaving for a full year to travel to Italy with those scientists.’ His tone was velvet yet edged with steel.
Her heart raced at his presence and his words. ‘You were in my room while I was gone?’ It took her a moment to realize Ralston was as angry as he was.
‘Only after I heard from Lord Weber of your plans.’
Her voice wavered. ‘Lady Weber told her husband?’ Had the lady betrayed her?
‘No. You see, he overheard your conversation with his wife. Bravo, my dear, for keeping it a secret.’
She’d never seen Ralston this distant and cold. There was an icy arrogance to him that raised the hair on her nape. She wasn’t afraid of him, but wary. ‘It was a surprise to me, as well. And I… I haven’t decided yet.’
He lifted a hand towards her open notebook. ‘That’s not what your list indicates. Seven concise bullet points skewed in one direction. For you to leave.’
She was right to be wary. This was bad. Very bad.
He thought she was not planning to consult him.
That was far from the truth. ‘You misunderstand. I haven’t made a decision yet.
I intended to tell you after I’d organized my thoughts on the matter.
As for my notebook and the pro/con list, Mrs Hanning interrupted me before I could finish. She showed me an item in the Tatler.’
‘The gossip rag? I know about that, too. Our love match is not as convincing now, is it?’ His face hardened in a way that made her stomach churn with anxiety. It was as if she could feel the coldness seeping between them. She needed to fix this, to let him know it was not as it seemed.
‘No, my lord. I’m sorry for any confusion.’ She reached for him. He stepped back.
‘Sorry for what?’ he asked, his voice sharp. ‘For slipping into my bed by accident? Or for our resulting marriage. Or for being deceptive about the offer to travel. Yes, I do believe you owe me an apology.’
The emotional distance between them grew and she felt a desperate need to draw him back. ‘You cannot possibly think that.’
‘Why not? Not once did you mention the offer you had received to travel. I’ve been thinking things through, my dear.
The invitation must have been conveyed to you when the bespectacled woman asked to speak with you privately after your presentation.
You blatantly lied and said she was interested in your notes and wanted to visit. Do you deny it?’
Her face grew warm and she knew she could not lie.
She had kept it from him, but for different reasons.
She needed time to rationalize. The offer to travel had been unexpected and she owed it to the scientific group—no she owed it to herself—to think things through before telling him.
She’d never make a decision before consulting him.
And then there were her strong feelings for her husband, which made any decision the most difficult of all. Love complicated everything.
She was aware of him watching her, waiting for a response. ‘No, I don’t deny it. She asked me to join the travelling group to the Continent. But like I said, I needed time to think. This is just a horrible misunderstanding.’
He stood there, proud and angry. ‘A misunderstanding? You sat across from me in the carriage and at the Cock Tavern and never said a word all the while knowing you would leave. That sounds like a betrayal to me.’
A betrayal? He must be thinking back to his youthful years. He made it sound horrible when in fact she was terribly torn. She hadn’t decided, even now, and had planned to discuss it with him. His accusatory tone made her own anger arise. She opened her mouth to explain. ‘I—’
His jaw stiffened. ‘I won’t stand in your way.’ His voice was quiet, but held a frostiness that made her shiver.
She stiffened her spine. ‘Devon, I fear you are thinking of Margaret. I would never betray you in such a fashion.’
‘No?’ He took a step forward and faced her. ‘This, my lady, is worse. You never said a word when you had the opportunity to do so. I’d call that worse betrayal.’
‘You’re wrong! And the fact that you don’t trust me after all this time tells me the problem is not with me, but with you.
I would have hoped such an exciting offer to travel would have been met with support, not anger.
I never made it a secret how much my research means to me and that I’d wanted to travel with a group of scientists. I’d hoped you’d be happy for me.’
‘Perhaps I would have, if you’d told me instead of my finding out from my political nemesis.’
She rubbed her temple. ‘I’m sorry for that.
But I told you I just needed time to organize my thoughts and think.
’ She’d felt safe with Lady Weber and a genuine friendship had come of their time together.
It made sense that Lord Weber had overheard their conversation.
The lady would not have spilled her secret to travel.
‘You will have all the time you need to think on the blasted ship.’ His voice was hard, unemotional. ‘Go.’ He waved towards the door. ‘Our marriage is not real, is it? Rather, it is a businesslike proposition, nothing more.’
After all they’d shared, he couldn’t believe that, could he?
She’d stopped believing that a long time ago.
It wasn’t just their shared passionate nights.
He meant more to her, more than she dared confess aloud.
Not now. Not when his past had come between them, and, in his anger, he’d thought her worse than Margaret.
He gave a curt bow. ‘As for now, I believe time apart is best, my lady.’
She didn’t want time apart. She came alive in that moment. ‘That’s not true! I care for you!’
‘Care?’ he ground out. ‘A woman who cares would have told her husband about such an offer. You are selfish and care only for yourself.’
She stood stunned, her thoughts jagged and painful.
‘Do not wait up for me tonight, my dear.’ He turned and left the room, his booted feet echoing across the corridor. A minute later, she heard the front door slam closed.
Nora had never in her life felt so devastated. Her heart ached. She ate little and her sleep was disturbed. She woke in a sweat, her sheets tangled around her legs.
She missed Ralston badly. Their argument haunted her. She’d waited up for him that first night and had given up on sleep. She ended up in his favorite chair in the library, curled up in front of the low-burning coal grate.
She imagined what she would say to him when he came home.
She loved him. Looking back, she didn’t know when her love had first blossomed.
Was it when he’d gifted her with a room for her scientific endeavors?
Or was it further back, when he’d funded her purchase of the microscope?
Or was it the night she took him to a tavern, and he loved her family’s food?
Her heart had slipped with each passing gesture, each shared moment.
Marriage had been freeing and wonderful and passionate.
To make matters worse, Ralston didn’t return that night or the next or the next.
A full week went by and his abandonment confused her.
His lack of trust in her was more devastating.
He’d thought her worse than Margret. It was far from the truth.
He needed to learn to trust but that was not something she could do for him. He must recognize it himself.
As for her husband, the only news she’d heard was what she’d read in The Morning Post. The Cotton Mills Act passed in the House of Lords. Her fingers had trembled as she’d held the newspaper.
Ralston had to be thrilled. She longed to share his sweet success with him, but he failed to return. Nora’s anxiety was at an all-time high. Miss Lyons visited later that week. Nora asked for more time to decide, and the lady granted her two additional days.
Nora arose early and immediately sought out Mrs Hanning. ‘Where is his lordship?’
The normally proper housekeeper shifted her feet and lowered her eyes. ‘He never told us where he was going, my lady.’
Nora’s despair was turning into desperation. She had no reason to doubt the housekeeper. Ralston was not planning to return any time soon.
The clock was ticking, and she needed to make a decision. Ralston’s words returned in a rush:
Go. Our marriage is not real, is it? Rather, it is a businesslike proposition, nothing more.
He’d then proceeded to call her worse than Margaret.
The hurtful words were like a knife to her heart.
Would he abandon her after their argument?
How could he be so mistrustful after all they’d shared?
His inability to trust was too deep-seated for him to overcome.
He should have trusted her or at least understood why she hadn’t told him right away.
Or was he glad for a reason to be rid of her?
She’d never considered this thought. Perhaps he was waiting for her to leave before he returned.
He hadn’t planned on marrying. Certainly not as swiftly as he had.
She was the one who’d slipped into his room, into his bed, giving him little choice.
He’d been concerned that scandal would ruin his political career.
But now that his bill had passed—in spite of the gossip everyone must have seen—there was no reason to keep her around.
Maybe this was the opportunity he’d been waiting for.
Perhaps his leaving home was so that he would not have to say goodbye or put up with any feminine tears.
She would never believe this of him. But then again, she would never have believed he would walk out and not return.
Nora fought tears as she clung to the balustrade and she dragged herself up the stairs to her room. She threw open her trunk and began tossing clothes inside. Tonight, she would begin the painstaking task of wrapping seashells in paper and trying not to cry.
Packing was a time-consuming process. Her seashells were fragile and her books heavy. The microscope had to be packed with care. Then there were her dresses, shoes and accessories. Nora was grateful when Candace and Sara arrived to help.
Candace had taken over the task of wrapping her shells in paper. ‘It didn’t take this long to move you into this Berkeley Square home.’
‘That’s because most items were stored in trunks in the attic. I never had space to unpack them in our home. Mother would have disapproved.’
‘And here?’ Sara asked as she opened her wardrobe. She preferred to help with the clothes.
Nora packed her favorite treatise, Lovell Reeve’s Conchologia Iconica into the bottom of a second trunk. Her thoughts turned as she recalled the day her husband had surprised her with her own space for science. ‘Ralston gave me my own workroom.’
Candace touched the microscope. ‘He also gave you funds to purchase your own microscope.’
‘Yes, he did.’ Nora rubbed her eyes. She was exhausted from the turn of events.
Her stress had increased each passing moment, each day and evening, that her husband did not return home.
She’d spent last night tossing and turning in bed.
At one point, she’d reached out to the pillow beside her for him.
Her body ached for his touch and her heart ached for his love.
She acknowledged that he might not feel the same for her.
Still, had their time together meant so little to him? As for herself, she’d cherish it.
‘Are you certain about leaving?’ Candace asked softly.
She lowered her eyes to hide her hurt. ‘Ralston made the decision when he didn’t return home.’
Candace came close to touch her shoulder. ‘Oh, Nora. I hate to see you suffer. In my experience, men are selfish and lack loyalty.’
‘Travelling with scientists is what you’ve always wanted. You said it was your dream,’ Sara said.
Nora rubbed her temple. ‘Yes, it was. I mean it is.’
Both sisters looked at her.
Nora cracked a smile. ‘It’s only a year. I’ll return to you both with tales of Italy.’
‘You will get to see the Colosseum!’ Candace said.
‘And spend time in the seaside town of Sorento to find more seashells!’ Sara added.
Nora’s hopes buoyed. She valued the support of her sisters. ‘And when I return, I will bring home Italian silk cloth for you, Sara. And art supplies for you, Candace. I’ll also have much to tell you both of Italy.’
She turned to Candace. ‘Keep drawing, Candace. I spotted the political cartoon you had randomly sketched of Prinny spooning gold coins into his mouth and it made me laugh.’ She shot her a wink.
‘You sold it! Keep drawing—anonymously, of course!’ She was proud of her sister and how she’d decided to use her talent.
She turned to Sara. ‘Keep designing French lingerie and dresses, Sara. I have no doubt that one day your designs will be all the rage in the Bond Street shops.’
The three sisters hugged, tears welling in all their eyes.