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Memories crowded in. “You were shaken, but you wouldn’t explain your abrupt return. But that was the night we all swore we’d be bachelors. And you swore you’d never got to an altar unless you were dragging one of us away from it.”
Ralph stood silent for a long moment, then he shoved himself free, righting his jacket with stiff, jerky movements and withdrawing a handkerchief to stem the blood from his nose. The skin near one eye was darkening in the promise of a black eye as well. Arthur let him go, responding at last to Samuel’s hand on his shoulder.
Ralph studied his face over the wadded cloth for a moment, then sniffed as an ugly expression crossed his face. “So the little minx told you. But did she tell you how much she wanted it? Did she tell you how bored she was, attending balls with her spinster aunt until she near perished of tedium? Or perhaps she told you how she enjoyed the thrill of sneaking around? Did you know? A few pretty words and two or three meetings, and she opened her legs for me faster than a two pence whore on an alley corner.”
Arthur’s second punch sent him reeling back, the skin over his cheekbone split, and only Samuel’s hand stopped him from delivering a bruised kidney into the bargain. He was still considering it when Ralph’s words registered. “Balls?”
Ralph glared at him. “Yes. I said that.”
Nora was educated. She had the manners of a lady, she could dance, and she was well-read. He had never thought of it, but… “She was never a maid, was she?”
Ralph snorted, then spit blood. “Not that you’d know it from her behavior, the little slattern, but she wasn’t a maid when I knew her.” He sneered. “Well, she was not a maiden for long, and I suppose she wasn’t a maid of the other sort no matter she behaved like one.”
“Here now. A bit of respect. Whatever the circumstances, she’s the mother of your child.” Samuel flicked a vaguely disgusted look at Ralph.
Arthur flinched, disgust roiling his belly. “No. He’s fathered no child, not with Nora. I’ll not give you any claim on the child.” He shook his head, his mind flickering over options before remembering a story his mother had told him as a boy. “No, as far as you or I are concerned, her father and Nora’s former lover is an honorable man who was an officer in the Royal Navy and was lost at sea.”
“Her... it’s a girl?” For the first time since the truth had emerged, Ralph’s expression lost the contemptuous twist to it. “She…”
“She is none of your concern. Her birth father was an honorable mariner, and as for how matters stand now, her care will be my concern, and I will thank you to stay away from my family, Huxley. Consider our acquaintance dissolved.” He spun on his heel. “Samuel?”
Samuel cast a look at Ralph, then shook his head. “I’m with you, Arthur.” Arthur gave him one quick nod, and the two left the room, and their former friend, behind.
Samuel waited until they were down the stairs to speak. “So, you’ve decided to take the girl as your wife after all?”
“Nora. Yes.” He swallowed, the ache in his throat now present for an entirely different reason. “I thought... I thought she’d seduced a man and got herself with child, but knowing this... this changes everything.”
“I suppose it does.” Samuel nodded. He studied Arthur’s face, then clapped him on the shoulder. “I wish you luck. I’ll find David and tell him what’s transpired.”
Arthur nodded, his throat nearly too tight to speak. He collected his coat and hat as quickly as he could, ignoring the looks he received for his bloodied knuckles and shirt.
His throat hurt, and his chest was an aching ball of grief and shame as he turned his steps toward home.
He had hurt Nora. Nora, who had only done the best she could, after the indiscretions of one of his friends. Sweet, brave, honorable Nora.
He was running by the time he reached the end of the block.
CHAPTERTWENTY
Arthur was out of breath, red-faced with exertion, and almost shaking with both strain and the turmoil of his emotions by the time he returned to the manor. All his thoughts were on finding Nora.
His mother met him in the entryway. “Arthur.” Her gaze flicked over him, turning stern in disapproval of his unkempt state. “What have you been doing to get in such a condition?”
“It does not matter.” He gulped in a few breaths. “Have you seen Nora?”
Perhaps his mother had encountered her and delayed her departure.
“I have not.” She folded her hands and peered at him. “Now, what is going on?”
“I told you, it does not matter. But I need to find Nora.” He exhaled sharply, trying to think.
“Arthur…” His mother’s warning tone stopped him in his tracks. He sighed, then turned back to her, making an effort to bring himself under control.
“I am sorry, Mother, but I am in a hurry, and I haven’t time for long explanations. Suffice it to say... I am looking for Nora.” He paused as a thought struck him. “And if I can find her, you may find that you have a grandchild sooner than expected.”
His mother made a scoffing sound. “I’ll have no grandchild at all if you cannot bring back the mother.”
Mother. The letter…
