“Shall we be on our way?” Nick asked. “You’re sure you wouldn’t rather I take you to Gunter’s?”
She nodded. “Quite sure. I believe I just proved my ability to stand fast in a dangerous situation. And if the public house is as you say, the experience will be incredibly boring.”
With Emma in tow, however, Nick knew their upcoming visit would be nothing of the kind.
The inside of the public house was dim and quiet with only a few patrons seated at the tables and chairs arranged throughout the room. Talk died down as she and Nick entered, a pair of grizzled old men looking up from their mugs to stare at her with undisguised interest. They looked away again quickly enough, Emma noticed, most likely because of the fierce look Nick gave them in return.
“Let’s find a table,” he said, keeping hold of her arm as he steered her toward a shadowed corner of the tavern.
“There’s one near the window that looks much more cheerful,” Emma told him, slowing their progress as she pointed out the other table.
“Sitting in the most noticeable spot in the entire place isn’t a good idea. This will do fine,” he stated, his tone inflexible.
She made a face, which she saw him pretend to ignore as he led her the rest of the way to the corner he had selected. When they reached the table, she slid her arm free of his and made to walk around, but he stopped her with a gentle touch.
“You sit here,” he said, pulling out a simple, straight-backed wooden chair that faced away from the other patrons.
“Why?”
“I don’t like having my back to the room. Old habit from my war days,” he added at her quizzical expression.
“Oh.” Deciding it wasn’t worth the argument, she slid into the offered seat. Rounding the table, Nick sat down across from her.
“Is it really so dangerous in here?” she leaned over to whisper, shivering with excitement at the idea.
Unable to resist, she looked over her shoulder to inspect the other patrons, wondering what untrustworthy types she might have missed on first glance.
At one table sat the two old men who had stared at her when she’d first come in; the pair had gone back to drinking their ales, bluish gray pipe smoke hovering above their grizzled heads like a small cloud. At another table sat a trio of young men with ink-stained fingers and harried expressions that made her wonder if they might be clerks taking an early supper break. And occupying a third table were four rather ordinary fellows dressed in plain vests and jackets who might have been anything from laborers to merchants to artisans; it was impossible to tell.
To her great disappointment, none of them looked particularly menacing at all.
As for the keeper of the public house, he at least seemed a bit more pugnacious with a short, thick build, shiny bald pate, and wiry brows that were knitted over his eyes like two lumps of wool.
He wiped the counter while shooting a disapproving glare in her direction. In that moment, it dawned on her that she was the only woman in the room.
“This place isn’t dangerous,” Nick told her with wry amusement once she’d turned back. “If it were, you would not be here.”
The barman, scowl still in place, lumbered up to them. “What’ll yeh ’ave?” he growled.
“Ale for me and tea for the lady,” Nick said before she had a chance to speak.
“Tea?” she shot back, giving Nick a reproving look. “I can have tea anytime.” Looking up, she sent the barman a wide smile. “I’ll have ale too. A small one, if you please.”
“She’ll have tea,” Nick countermanded. “And we’ll share a plate of your best meats and cheeses and bread to go with it.”
“Mustard or chutney with that, Guvnor?” the man asked. “My missus spent time in India with her father afore I married her and she makes a right tasty fixin’ with apples and pears.”
“It sounds delicious. We shall try both.”
The man nodded, then shot Emma another disapproving look before turning away.
“He’s not very friendly,” she complained as soon as he was out of earshot. “Surely I am not the only woman to ever set foot across the premises.”
“With the exception of his wife and possibly a daughter, you might well be. This isn’t the sort of public house that caters to working ladies and their companions.”
She frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Never mind. I should not have mentioned it.”
Emma cudgeled her brain trying to make sense of his statement. “But what sort of women—oh—” She broke off suddenly, leaning close again. “Do you mean loose women? Are those the kind you’re talking about?” Not that she knew much about such unfortunate females, but even she had heard rumors of their existence.