Chapter Twenty-Four
‘Have you drunk the entire bottle of whisky?’ Adler burst into the room, startling Ralston.
Ralston grimaced. ‘Why? Do you want to join me? I’ll have Stevens fetch another and a glass.
He came with this rented townhouse and will fetch anything I need.
Convenient what money can buy, isn’t it?
’ He’d been living in a rented dwelling on St James’s Street for a little over a week. He knew he would not stay here forever.
Adler came forward and picked up the empty bottle, then placed it on a sideboard. ‘Christ, Ralston. You look like horse shit.’
He bristled at the insult and glared at his friend. ‘What’s it to you? Besides, I’ve never felt better.’
Adler’s lips twisted in a cynical grimace. ‘I find that hard to believe. You should celebrate the victory of your bill passing.’
He should feel victorious. He’d worked on that bill tirelessly for over a year.
He’d carefully drafted the law, made alterations to get more to agree to it, had met with lords to cultivate allies and practiced speech after speech in his study.
He should be thrilled. He’d even imagined celebrating with his wife.
He felt nothing.
He should find the emptiness unnerving. He didn’t care.
Adler watched him. ‘You should also know you missed another House session.’
Had he? The thought of returning to the House lacked its normal thrill. A sourness centered in the pit of his stomach. ‘There will be others.’
‘You’ve never missed a session. Weber’s friends are still licking their wounds from your political win and will no doubt gather to propose a counter bill of their own.’
Again, nothing. He lacked ambition and the normal fire he felt from political machinations. ‘It will survive without me for the time being.’ He needed time and space away from her.
‘You should go home,’ Adler said.
Ralston shook his head. ‘Not if Lady Ralston is there.’
‘Go home,’ Adler said, his voice firmer. ‘You need to speak with your wife.’
Ralston shot him a hard glare. ‘Why? She is no different than any other woman. I should not have believed she was.’
Adler let out a long sigh. ‘Your wife is not Margaret.’
At the mention of his first betrothal, a spark of annoyance flared in his chest. ‘You’re right. Nora is worse.’
She was a liar. She’d told him she’d cared about him. It was nonsense, of course. What woman would lie about an offer to travel abroad for an entire year if she cared?
‘You don’t believe that about Lady Ralston. Margaret lied about the baby and cheated with another man.’
His short bark of laughter lacked humour.
He’d believed Nora was a more trustworthy wife than Margaret would have ever been.
Which made her betrayal worse. His feelings for his wife went much deeper than any he’d held for Margaret.
It was why his chest felt like it had been carved out with a dull spoon, and he couldn’t face Nora.
‘My wife didn’t blink an eye as we celebrated her success after her presentation,’ he said. ‘All the while, she was planning to leave for a full year. Once she’s gone, she will most likely find another lover, a like-minded scientist.’
Adler’s voice hardened with frustration. ‘Then give her a reason not to leave. Christ, Ralston, you can be mule-headed. The problem is not with Nora but with you. You need to trust her. How long will you avoid her?’
Ralston grunted. ‘I’m in no rush.’
‘Then you better come to your senses and hurry because I heard Lady Ralston’s ship is leaving in two days’ time.’
Ralston sobered as fast as his body would allow.
He endured a cold bath, three cups of coffee and a foul-tasting drink Adler swore would work to get the whisky out of his system.
Stevens offered to shave him and after he dressed quickly, not bothering with the intricate folds of his cravat, he arrived home.
He couldn’t let his wife leave without further discussion. After all, they had a business agreement to uphold.
His butler’s eyes widened as he stepped into the house. ‘Your lordship.’
‘Where is Lady Ralston?’ he demanded.
‘Lady Ralston?’ The butler froze.
Before he could open his mouth and demand an answer. Mrs Hanning hurried into the vestibule and stopped short at the sight of him. ‘My lord!’
‘Lady Ralston. Where is she?’
His housekeeper stared, clearly at a loss for words. What the hell was wrong with his staff? They looked like frightened deer. A heavy feeling settled in his gut.
Mrs Hanning finally spoke. ‘Lady Ralston is…is—’
‘Where, dammit?’ He never swore to his staff and their eyes widened in unison.
Mrs Hanning jumped. ‘Her ladyship left for the dockyard an hour ago.’
He took a step back as if she’d slapped him across the face. ‘She left? I thought the departure was two days from now.’
The housekeeper shook her head. ‘No, my lord. Who told you that?’
Adler. His friend wouldn’t have known. And it wasn’t Adler’s fault anyway.
It was his.
Christ. Everything was his fault. For the first time, he experienced a sense of panic.
Now sober, he recalled his cruel words. She’d told him she cared for him and how did he respond?
He’d called her selfish and accused her of being worse than Margaret.
What had he been thinking? His heart hammered in his chest and the tension that had been building inside him exploded with frightening intensity.
Without another word, he spun on his heel and sprinted back to his carriage.
‘To the dockyards! With haste!’ he shouted to his driver.
As the wheels of the conveyance travelled torturously slowly through the city traffic and then over the cobbled stones leading to the docks, his thoughts were tormented.
With pulse-pounding clarity, he realized he loved his wife.
Nora was nothing like his ex-fiancée. What a fool he’d been to even compare the two women.
Nora was different. Intelligent. Vivacious. Passionate. And loyal.
She’d always been honest and it was his inability to trust that had driven her away. His political career meant nothing if he could not share it with her.
If she departed before he could confess his true feelings, he’d never be the same again.
Nora’s satchel and trunk had already been delivered by the crewmen and stored in the corner of the cabin.
Another trunk rested beside hers, that of her cabin mate, Miss Lyons.
They would share the small space for the journey to Venice.
A bunk bed, a wooden table and a single chair occupied the rest of the cabin.
Nora hesitated, not knowing if she were to occupy the top or bottom bunk.
She rubbed her temples, feeling the beginnings of a headache.
Rather than excitement at her upcoming adventure, the nagging in the back of her mind refused to be stilled.
Terrible regrets assailed her when she thought of her last conversation with Ralston.
She’d longed for him to hold her, instead he’d been angry at her deception and had reminded her of their business arrangement.
The cabin door opened and Miss Lyons entered. The woman was dressed for travel in a blue merino wool dress without a scrap of lace. ‘Lady Ralston, I see you have settled in.’ She waved a hand towards the beds. ‘I prefer the top bunk unless you have a preference?’
‘No, that suits me.’ She watched as Miss Lyons set her satchel on the table. ‘Please call me Nora. We are to be cabin mates and will be spending time together.’ Nora sat on the bottom bunk. The mattress was thin, and it would be uncomfortable for the journey. Her headache increased in intensity.
‘Please call me Joan.’ The woman’s brown eyes watched her behind the lenses of her spectacles. ‘I sense you are troubled, Nora.’
Nora looked up. ‘Troubled? Forgive me if I seem deep in thought. It’s just the excitement. I am grateful for the opportunity to join the group for this experience.’
Joan tilted her head to the side and studied her like one would a rare item in a curiosity cabinet. ‘Yet, you are also conflicted, aren’t you?’
How could the woman tell? ‘Well… I—’
‘The day of your presentation, I noticed Lord Ralston in attendance. I also saw you two afterwards. He was happy for you,’ Joan said.
He had been. His unwavering support had meant much to her. She’d been horribly nervous, and his encouragement had helped. Afterwards, he’d been genuinely happy for her and had celebrated her success.
How had she shown her gratitude? She’d kept Miss Lyon’s surprising offer to travel to herself.
Nora’s confusion over the decision had kept him in the dark.
Did he believe she was going to leave him without a thought about their marriage and his own feelings?
Although she hadn’t meant to hurt him, she had.
It wasn’t fair to him, and she understood his anger.
Was that why he’d reminded her of their initial arrangement?
If only he would have allowed her to explain.
Joan took off her glasses, polished them on her sleeve, then slipped them back on. ‘As women scientists we have it especially difficult and must work harder to prove ourselves. Our research must be impeccable and well-documented. Men do not take us seriously.’
‘I understand.’ Nora wondered what the woman had gone through to become a member of the London Scientific Society. The male members must have resisted.
‘Science is a rare gift,’ Joan said. ‘We as scientists cannot simply stop thinking. Ceasing our studies is like killing a part of our brains.’
The woman’s encouragement was expected. Then why did Nora feel a wretchedness of mind she’d never known before?
‘And yet,’ Joan said, waving a hand, ‘true love is even rarer.’
Nora’s gaze snapped to hers. Was she insinuating that Ralston loved her? A raw and primitive grief overwhelmed her. If only it were true. ‘You are mistaken. His lordship has never professed his love.’
‘A man’s actions are more meaningful than his words.’
Nora stood closer. ‘What are you saying?’