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Nora gulped deep, ragged breaths of air and forced her emotions into some semblance of control. There would be time enough for tears later. “I need to pack.”
“Pack? Whatever for?”
“I need to leave.” She swallowed again against the grief that wanted to bring her to her knees. “Lydia is better... she should be well enough to travel.” She moved forward and took down one of the old, worn bags she had once carried all her worldly possessions in. “There is no reason we should not make our way while the weather is fine.”
“No reason... what of your position?” Scarlett brought over a bundle of Lydia’s clothes and helped Nora pack them into the bag. “What of...”
Her voice wavered, and not even the best will in the world could keep it steady. “He dismissed me. He wants no wife who comes with the burden of another man’s child. Nor does he want a maid in such circumstances.”
“Oh, Nora, love. I am sorry to hear it. But surely…” Scarlett stopped, then took her arm and gently guided her to sit by the fire. “Now then, tell me what happened.”
Nora did, telling Scarlett about Arthur’s actions, how he had accused her, then accosted her, and finally dismissed her once he learned the truth.
Scarlett kept silent during the tale, only to offer a worn handkerchief when the tears began to flow. Only when Nora’s words had subsided into weary sniffles did she speak. “Well, now, I’ll not deny he behaved badly, the cad. Still, it sounds as if he might not have had a much better night than we did by the way you described him. Perhaps he was only overwhelmed? A man who has too much on his mind is oft a fool.”
“What does it matter? He sent me away.” Nora sighed and winced at the rawness of her throat. “And given the reports in the scandal sheets, it is best I leave before I am sent from the town as a laughingstock.”
“I doubt it is so bad as all that, but I’ll not deny a change of scenery might do you good.” Scarlett rose and helped her to a chair before she moved to gather some more clothing from a line strung in the back. “Have you thought of where you’ll go?”
Nora considered the question. Her options were limited, and she hadn’t thought of anything save leaving as soon as possible. “Perhaps Bath, to my Aunt’s house there. She has always been kind to me.”
But thinking of Bath reminded her ofthat man, which reminded her of Arthur, and she flinched. It hurt too much.
She winced, and an aching smile twisted her mouth. “Or perhaps it is time for a new start. I could give Lydia to my mother. She would be overjoyed to have her, and Father would accept her, at the least. And I could take passage on a ship to the Colonies, perhaps. Somewhere where no one has ever heard any of this. I could make a living, somehow.”
“No.” Scarlett dropped to kneel in front of her. “How could you even think of leaving the wee one?”
Bitterness overwhelmed her like a choking cloud of smoke. “How could I not? I have done her no good by being in her life. What have I ever given her? The stigma of a bastard child, before ever she was even born. And through my own folly, I’ve lost her two chances for a good home and a father. She would be better off without me.”
“That she wouldn’t.” Scarlett shook her head, took Nora’s chin, and made sure their gazes met. “That little one has the best mother in the world in you. And the best auntie Scarlett as well.” The redhead smiled, but Nora could find no strength to respond to the gentle joke.
After a moment, Scarlett sighed. “Nora, love, it isn’t the wee one you’re hurting. ‘Tis yourself.” She gripped the sides of Nora’s face and stroked a tear away. “Truth love, why are you so set on running? ‘Tis yourself you’ll make miserable, and your life you’ll ruin, not the babe’s. Why not wait and see how things settle out? Mayhap once your man has had a chance to think things over, he’ll reconsider. Why not wait a little?”
Nora gulped, swallowed, then buried her face in Scarlett’s shoulder. “I cannot.”
“Whyever not?”
“Because... I cannot bear to be here if he chooses against me. To walk the streets, knowing I might see him, but have no more than glimpses... to live in the same city, but without him... my heart could not take the wounding of it, and I cannot bring myself to risk it.” She sniffled and used Scarlett’s handkerchief to blow her nose, finding a watery smile. “Only a fortnight ago, I would cheerfully have gone the rest of my life without ever knowing more of him than most servants are required to know of their masters. And now... now the thought of never calling him Arthur again makes my heart feel as if it is cracking in two.”
“Oh, love…” Scarlett sighed, and Nora felt a gentle kiss pressed to the top of her head. “Well, I cannot fault you for that. Still, do not run off to the Colonies just yet, yes?”
Gentle pressure guided her to sit up so she could meet Scarlett’s eyes again. The redhead waited a moment to ensure she was paying attention, then spoke softly and intently. “If it’s a new place you need for a few days... go to Bath. Go see that Aunt of yours, and show her your darling. Stay a few days until you’re not so raw inside. Then write to me, and we’ll sort the matter out together.” Her grip firmed. “I shall miss you, but I understand needing a change. So long as you do not deliver our darling wee one to those hidebound, old-fashioned louts you call your parents—or your father at least—then there’s no harm in taking some time.”
The words made sense. Nora took a few deep breaths. “You are right. That is the best thing to do. I shall go to Bath. There is a Royal Mail coach leaving soon, I think.”
“That is best.” Scarlett nodded. “You will not want the wee one on a regular coach.” She rose. “Speaking of... you see to the little one and get her ready for travel. I shall finish the packing for you.”
“Thank you, Scarlett.” Nora took a deep breath, then rose and began the process of rousing her daughter to prepare for the journey.
There was a long way to go, and for all she would miss Scarlett, it was better for her to be gone as soon as possible.
Gone from London and from the memories and the men it contained.
* * *
The walk from his home to the club had done little for his temper. By the time Arthur entered the doors of White’s, the morass of aching fury and betrayal had condensed into a painful knot in his chest, controlled but no less sharp and harsh.
He scarcely paused to give his coat to the man at the door before he was inside, heading for his private rooms with a barked-out order for a bottle of distilled spirits and a glass to be sent up.
