Page 48 of Ruined by the Wrong Earl

Chapter Fourteen

Ralston was working in his study. He’d left instructions not to be disturbed by his staff. His speech for the second reading of his bill needed precision. Every sentence bore weight. He must parry Lord Weber’s inevitable objections, particularly those concerning the costs to mill owners should child labor be limited or curtailed. Besides the economic arguments, he needed to frame the inescapable inhumanity of toiling child labor and their responsibility to end it.

His blotter had splotches of black ink where he’d pressed too hard as he scribbled his notes. This was what he did best, what he enjoyed, but lately, his concerns that the bill would fail were growing. Lord Weber was a formidable opponent and with the support of factory owners, he had the means to garner even more support.

To make matters worse, his mind had wandered too easily lately.

His pen hovered above the foolscap when a knock on the study door broke the silence.

‘Who is it?’

‘It’s me, my lord. Nora.’

His wife.

He sat back slightly, his heart hammering at the sound of her voice. He’d been keeping his distance over the past couple days, especially the nights. He’d been focused on his work and knew she must be focused on hers. Spending time with her at the circulating library had made it worse. Memories of her initiating that kiss in the reading room haunted his waking moments and sleepless nights. He acknowledged his avoidance of his pretty wife was due to his growing desire for her. To make matters worse, he genuinely liked her. She was easy to speak with, and her sharp mind matched his own. It was a danger he hadn’t anticipated, and it made focus impossible.

‘Enter.’

The door opened and she stepped inside with the soft rustle of silk skirts. Her dress was yellow, the colour of the wildflowers that dotted his country estate. Most auburn-haired women would look sallow in the shade, but Nora glowed like a breath of sunshine. Her olive-toned skin, inherited from her Middle Eastern father, was warm and striking with her green eyes.

His heart pounded, and he clutched the pen harder than necessary as he met her gaze.

‘I know you’re working,’ she said softly.

‘Yes.’ The springs of his chair creaked as he leaned forward, and he folded his hands before him. ‘Is there something important?’

She blushed a charming pink. It climbed down her neck, and he imagined how far it went. Did it reach the swell of her breasts beneath her bodice? His gaze threatened to stray. He anchored it to her eyes. He needed to stop thinking of her in a sexual nature. It was good he was sitting, or she might realize how much she affected him.

‘The house is not on fire if that’s what you mean.’ Her voice was lighter.

He chuckled. ‘Good to know.’

‘Will you go to a tavern with me?’ she asked.

The request was a surprise. ‘A tavern?’

‘Yes, to share a meal.’

‘Do you not like Cook?’

The flush deepened. Her green eyes, flecked with amber, darted away before returning to his. ‘Cook is quite competent. The tavern I have in mind is owned by my father’s friend. I had written to him of our engagement and wedding.’

‘You want to visit this place?’

‘Well…yes. In the back of the tavern is a private dining room where they serve Middle Eastern food. Many of the dishes are from Aleppo and what we prepared in our home. I want to take you there and share a meal.’

He wondered if she would always surprise him. ‘Tonight?’

‘Yes, if you can spare the time. I enjoyed our outing at Hookham’s and I thought of arranging something myself. I also thought it might be a way to ease your tension from your work.’

He studied her for a moment. He was surprised at her offer and appreciative that she’d thought of him. She didn’t mention their heated kiss at the bookstore. Her hands were folded before her, and her fingers tangled in the fabric of her skirts. He could see her swiftly beating pulse in her neck. She was nervous.

He set down his pen. ‘I do need time away from my work. Shall we go, then?’

Less than an hour later, they were seated in his crested coach travelling across London. Soon the coach stopped before the Cock and Bull Tavern. The old wooden sign creaked on its hinges in the slight breeze. Ralston hopped out and, not waiting for the driver, he lowered the step and helped Nora alight.

‘I’m curious to see this fine establishment,’ he said.