Page 82 of Ruined by the Wrong Earl

‘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?’

‘Finding a man confident in his own masculinity, not intimidated by a woman’s intelligence, is uncommon. Finding one who supports a woman, fully encourages her endeavors, whatever they may be, is the rarest of them all and special.’

The words of wisdom were enlightening. Was it possible her husband did love her? His actions showed he’d cared, but love? It was a much more meaningful emotion. Was she wrong, did he care more than she’d thought?

‘What of you?’ Joan asked. ‘Did you tell his lordship you love him?’

She hadn’t. She’d been afraid of rejection. What if he felt the same? What if he found her pros and cons list before she could finish it and he believed she did not love him? He had difficulty trusting, but so did she. She should have told him she loved him. Was she brave enough to confess her true feelings now?

Was it too late?

The blast from the ship’s horn made her jump.