“That is so,” Nicholas agreed. “And if it means we cannot speak with each other, I am sorry for that. I have always appreciated your counsel.”
His grandmother looked at him sadly. “I cannot counsel you, grandson. My counsel is for those who share my world.”
“Though I do not share it, I do not judge it,” Nicholas replied gently. “And I believe you tried to help me, even though the way you did it was wrong.”
“Believe what you will.” Her tone was hard. Nicholas swallowed hard. In the past, he would have been tortured by that tone, but now he understood she was hurt, and wishing also to hurt him. He swallowed again.
“I will speak to you soon,” he said as mildly as he couldmanage. “I wish you a good day, Grandmother. I will be going out later, but I will visit you again before too long.”
She didn’t say anything, and Nicholas turned around and went to the door. He hoped she would speak to him soon, but as he went out of the door and into the hallway, all he could feel was that a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He had confronted her and tried to set matters right, and if she chose to settle things peacefully, he would be grateful.
He knew he had done his best, and that was all that mattered. He walked to the stairs and hurried down, his heart feeling lighter with every step.
Soon, he would be talking to Bernadette. That thought could only fill him with joy and anticipation and he hurried down the stairs to find the coach. In a few brief hours, he would be in her company again.
Chapter 28
Bernadette sat at a table indoors in one of London’s most celebrated tea-houses. Judy sat with her, and Bernadette fidgeted awkwardly with the tablecloth, feeling her heart thud nervously in her chest.
Despite having seen him but a few hours ago, she could not stop thinking about him. Memories of his kisses, of his words, intruded each time she let herself be still. She’d played the pianoforte for most of the morning, trying to distract herself from sweet musings.
“Miss Rowland?” Judy murmured warning her of someone approaching. Bernadette looked up from the tablecloth, heart thudding, but it was only the proprietor, though, coming over to their table, a smile on his big, friendly face.
“Madam? Would you like to order something?”
Bernadette shook her head. “No, thank you,” she replied hastily. “I’m waiting for somebody to join us.”
“Ah. I see.” The proprietor smiled warmly at her. “Sorry to bother you.”
“Not at all,” Bernadette answered politely as the maninclined his head in a respectful gesture and then turned back to the rest of the tea-house.
He’ll be here soon,she reminded herself, her fingers plucking nervously at the green muslin of her gown. She felt as though she was meeting him for the first time. Itwasthe first time: the first real outing they were going on together, by their own choice.
“Milady?” Judy’s voice interrupted her musings.
“What is it?” Bernadette murmured, and then she felt her face flood with a flush, heart thudding nervously. He was in the doorway, wearing a dark brown velvet jacket, a silk cravat and with his blue eyes alight with warmth.
“My dear Bernadette,” he murmured as he approached the table, bowing low. “I apologise for my tardy arrival. I had a few matters to take care of.” His voice was low, his dark-blue gaze bright where it held her own. Bernadette swallowed hard, finding it hard to breathe. She could smell the leather-and-pomade smell that was the scent of him, and her heart raced with joy and longing.
“Nicholas,” she greeted him, flushing with the use of his name. Though she’d become accustomed to using it, in this setting it felt more intimate than before. “How nice to see you.”
Nicholas smiled and drew out a chair, sitting down opposite her. Judy, who had been focusing on Bernadette, suddenly became engrossed in a copy of theGazettethat was lying on the table. Bernadette’s heart swelled with thanks. She was the best—or the worst—chaperone in the history of London, she was quitesure. Bernadette loved her for that.
“How are you?” Nicholas asked as he settled down at the table, stretching out his legs under it. His hands moved across the surface of it and found her fingers. She sighed, feeling a tingle of longing and excitement spread through her body.
“I am well,” she managed to say. She guessed he wanted to know how her parents had reacted. “I had a pleasant morning, with no trouble.”
“Good. Good.” He inclined his head, looking suddenly weary. Bernadette cleared her throat.
“And you? How was...how are your grandparents?” she asked carefully, not sure if he was comfortable with talking about it.
He sighed, shaking his head. “Not happy,” he said, looking tense for a moment. Then he grinned. “But then, very little makes them so; so, I am sure I shouldn’t feel too guilty.”
Bernadette giggled. “That’s good,” she said softly.
“Madam? Sir?” The proprietor appeared at their table. “May I fetch you something?”
Nicholas glanced at Bernadette, then answered. “Tea, please. For three. And would you fancy a slice of cake, Bernadette?” he inquired warmly.
