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He sauntered off towards the bar, and I relaxed. So this was a proper date since he’d labelled it as such! Maybe that’s what I needed: to be caught off guard, herded to a pub, and fed a vegan burger. If this had been formally arranged by text, I would’ve been a nervous wreck worrying about every minor detail. But here I was, dressed like a homey with a zit on my chin, and Thomas didn’t seem to care less. But then again, he wasn’t Jeremy, so I had less skin in the game. Going out to dinner with him would be a monumental event, but dreams were free.
We’d eaten our burgers and were on the fourth round of drinks, my shout. The pub had filled up considerably, but it was getting on for eight. I was enjoying this date way more than I thought I would. Thomas had pushed up the sleeves of his prison shirt to reveal extremely muscular forearms, which were quite distracting. As well as telling me more about the e-bike shop, which he’d started with savings from a couple of years working as an investment banker, he’d been regaling me with funny stories about guiding at the castle.
Somehow, we got back onto the subject of Mary Blandy. Thomas mentioned she’d had smallpox and her face was badly scarred. So her father had offered a substantial dowry to entice eligible gentlemen to marry her. I was adamant that her dowry was instrumental in Captain William making a play for her and utterly convinced she had been wrongly hanged.
‘Mary’s story could be added to the book. She had smallpox, and the dates are right,’ I mused, playing with the end of my ponytail. I’d ditched the cap and tied my hair back hastily and hadn’t even been to the bathroom to check if it was neat and tidy. This level of nonchalance was unheard-of for me. Though slightly fuzzy-headed after four ciders, I was still coherent—and definitely not drunk!
‘What book?’ Thomas’s foot nudged mine under the table, but I didn’t mind. He’d been doing that on and off for the last half hour.
‘I’m working on a smallpox project being undertaken by my boss, Professor Trelawny—Jeremy. He’s writing a book.’ My stomach fluttered a bit upon saying his name aloud. God, what was I like?
‘Wow, he’s quite famous in history circles.’ Thomas raised an eyebrow and looked impressed. ‘What’s it like working for him?’
Sublime hell, I thought. ‘Great,’ I replied a tad too enthusiastically. ‘He trusts me to take the initiative. We have weekly meetings, and he makes us fancy espresso. He’s turning me into a bit of a coffee connoisseur ...’
I could hear my voice taking on that wistful, dreamy tone, and I flushed. Thomas’s gaze was assessing, and I averted my eyes, feeling exposed. ‘I should probably get going. I think I’ve had one too many. But it’s been nice chatting.’ And I could report back to Eleanor that I had gone on a date with him.
‘Yeah, we should do it again,’ said Thomas unexpectedly.
‘Really?’ I had thought it would be one and done.
‘Sure. I had a good time. You’re interesting to talk to since you’re a history nut too.’
I giggled. ‘I’ve never thought of myself as a history nut, but I guess I am.’
‘I’ll walk you out.’
‘OK.’ I stood up and swayed slightly like I was on a full-rigged ship at sea.
‘Whoa, easy.’ Thomas grabbed my arm, and we staggered out of the pub. Maybe it had been five ciders. I’d lost count ...
Outside, I gulped in some mouthfuls of fresh night air, and my head felt slightly clearer.
‘Thanks. I’m not used to drinking that much,’ I said, disentangling my arm from Thomas’s. ‘Only the odd glass of wine at our Jane Austen evenings.’
‘Oh, I think Eleanor mentioned that. Sounds like fun.’
‘Yes!’ We walked down the street together, chatting about Jane Austen, of whom I discovered Thomas was a fan, until I realised I’d just been going along with him and we’d crossed over the river.
I stopped walking. ‘I’m going in completely the wrong direction!’ I poked his shoulder. ‘You’ve been distracting me with Pride and Prejudice.’
Thomas laughed. ‘Where are you supposed to go, my fair lady?’
‘Back yonder.’ I waved a hand in the general direction of my flat.
‘Come to mine for a coffee if you want. I’m literally five minutes from here. You can sober up and tell me all about your Mr Darcy fantasies.’
I wavered. I should go home and read some more of Mercy’s memoir. I was dying to find out what happened with her and Jasper. But the night was still young, and he did want to discuss Mr Darcy ...
Thomas lived in St Thomas’s Street. When I found that out, it tickled me so much that I giggled with glee and whacked his elbow. Unfortunately, this caused his key to go flying out of his hand and into the bushes of a neighbour’s front garden. He had to go crawling around in there on his hands and knees, which made me giggle harder.
‘Stop laughing. You’ll wake them up!’ he hissed.
‘It’s only eight thirty!’
‘They might have babies or something.’
‘Do they?’ I whispered.
