Then a new thought occurred. “Surely he doesn’t think that you and I… that I am—” she breathed.
“No. He doesn’t,” Nick said in a firm tone, “which is precisely why he hasn’t asked us to leave. If you don’t want him to change his mind, I suggest you be quiet and behave. No more trying to order pints of ale for yourself.”
She shot him a reproachful look. “Gainsaying my request for an ale was rude of you, you know. I do not see why I cannot have a glass.”
“My God, you’re a handful. How did you ever even manage to acquire a post as a governess? They can’t have known you well. That much is certain.”
She looked down, using the movement to hide her sudden dismay. In all of today’s excitement, she’d completely forgotten the story she’d told him—or rather the erroneous assumptions he’d made that she’d conveniently allowed him to believe. Now what to say?
To her immense relief, the tavern keeper chose that moment to return with their drinks. He placed a rich nut-brown mug of ale in front of Nick, then a pot of hot tea and a cup in front of her.
“Have you any milk and sugar?” she ventured, noticing their absence.
The barman gave a disgruntled huff and shuffled off again.
“Do you think he heard me?” she asked.
Nick grinned. “Oh, he heard you. It will be interesting to see if he complies.”
From the other side of the room came the discordant squeal of wood being scraped against wood as the four occupants of one table pushed back their chairs and rose to their feet. Their heavy leather boots rang out against the oak plank floors as they crossed to the far corner. All of them talked and laughed noisily as they went, ale mugs clutched in their hands.
One of the men stopped in front of what appeared to be a round slice of barrel wood affixed by a nail to the wall. Out of its scratched and scared surface, he yanked several pewter-colored metal objects with short white feathers attached to the ends.
“What is it they’re doing?” Emma inquired, making no effort to disguise her interest.
“Looks like they’re starting up a game of darts.” Nick raised a surprised brow. “Are you not familiar with the game?”
“No. How does it work?”
He sent her another slightly disbelieving look, then answered her question. “Basically it’s a competition that tests coordination and accuracy. Each player tosses a set number of darts at the board and scores points depending on how close to the center they land. There’s variation on throwing techniques and scoring methods, but that covers the most important particulars.”
Craning her head around in a way she would never have dared in normal company, she watched the men begin to play. The first dart thrown went wide of its target, eliciting groans and good-natured jeers from the man’s companions. The next man to throw was better, his dart landing with a resounding thunk near the center of the circle.
A roar of congratulations and backslapping ensued.
She watched long enough to see the next two men take turns before she swung around to face Nick, a wide smile on her face. “Oh, it does look fun. Do you suppose we could give it a try later, once they are finished with their game?”
“No,” Nick said automatically. “Anyway, those games can go on for hours, particularly when there is drink involved.”
“But perhaps once they’ve played for a while, they would let us take a turn.”
Nick made no reply this time.
She opened her mouth to debate the matter further when the tavern keeper appeared and laid a blue-and-white china platter filled with meats and cheeses in front of them. He followed that with two small dishes, one containing mustard and the other a glistening golden chutney. Bread came next, and then, to her surprise, a pitcher of milk and another small dish containing a few lumps of hard brown sugar that looked as if they had just been chiseled free from a much larger piece.
“Thank you,” Emma said. “This looks delicious.”
“I’ll tell me wife you approve.” Despite his surly disposition, Emma had the sneaking suspicion he was pleased.
Nick handed her a set of the pewter utensils the man had left along with a china plate whose pattern matched the platter.
She placed a slice of ham and a small wedge of creamy yellow cheese onto her plate. “Just because we’re eating doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten about the dart game,” she informed him. “We can see if they are still playing once we are finished.”
“You are not playing darts in this public house.”
“Well, where else am I to play darts, then, if not here?”
Nick stared for a long moment, then shook his head. “You are incorrigible.”