The Titan Drowns: Time Travel Romance by Nhys Glover (highly recommended books .txt) 📕

lang="en-AU" xml:lang="en-AU">With barely a word exchanged between them, they walked a block of Brook Street along with all the other evening revellers heading for Grosvenor Square. By the time they’d found the club’s discrete but classy entrance, Eilish’s feet were killing her. It wasn’t just the walk, she realised. She had been wearing these awfully uncomfortable shoes for nearly two days now and her arches and toes were not appreciative. Flat sandals or bare feet were what she was used to at home. And even on Jumps, most eras she had spent time in usually had comfortable footwear she could withstand – like sneakers in the latter part of the twentieth century.

‘I’ll go get a meal and then be out here waiting for you when you’re ready. Don’t leave here without me. You clear on that, Irish?’

‘Perfectly. Enjoy your meal and feel free to imbibe a little. It might improve your mood.’

‘I’d tell you to do the same, but you better stay clear-headed. Will you raise the subject tonight?’

‘Not sure. I will play it by ear. Which is what I have done for the last seventy years, I will remind you again.’

‘Yeah, message received loud and clear, doll. Just be careful, okay?’

Eilish nodded and turned to go up the short flight of stairs to the outer doors where a doorman in full livery waited to open the way for her. Drawing in as deep a breath as her corset would allow her, she smiled her greeting to the servant as he ushered her through into the inner sanctum.

Of course, she had read about men’s clubs. However, nothing could have prepared her for the atmosphere once she crossed the threshold. It was like entering a lavish library that smelled of lemon polish and leather. Wood panelling lined every wall, and electric lamps glowed warmly from elaborate sconces attached to the panelling. A wide, but surprisingly steep, staircase was directly in front of her, and the black and white tiled floor beneath her feet had to be marble and onyx.

She was immediately approached by another servant, this time in a white penguin suit, who asked for her name and that of her dinner companion. Then, after being assisted out of her fur, cocoon coat, she was led to a pair of etched glass doors to the right, which led into the only area where a woman was permitted – the dining room.

The ceiling was cluttered with sparkling chandeliers here, which bounced light off every shining surface in the room, especially the silver service. As she glided between the tables covered in white damask, she became aware of the mellow tones of a string quartet playing softly in the background. The room was already quite full, and many heads turned in her direction as she made her way toward the handsome, elegantly attired Maxwell Ingham.

When he saw her, he rose and took her hand. ‘Eilish, you look beautiful!’

In the interim hours since their first meeting, she had convinced herself that her initial reaction to this man was not as startling as she had thought. She had even started to wonder whether Luke was right about Max’s gender orientation. Many women had been fooled into falling for men who had no sexual interest in them.

However, as soon as she saw that look in his heavy-lidded hazel eyes, she knew that what he felt for her was not disinterest. His eyes seemed to devour her and she felt breathless under their powerful scrutiny. Whatever had been seeded between them earlier in the day had blossomed into an even more painfully intense electricity that arced between them now.

‘Thank you, Max. You look very handsome too.’ She allowed the maître d'hôtel to seat her and place a damask napkin on her lap.

Max seemed somewhat taken back by her compliment and she wondered if she had made a social blunder. Did women compliment men in this era? Her cultural download provided her with much information, but there were omissions.

‘I hope you do not feel compromised by dining with a married man in this way,’ he said softly, his low-timbered voice scraping pleasantly across her senses. She loved his very formal Etonian accent, which was not too different from what they spoke at home. It might seem starchy to some, but while there was genuine warmth in the tone, she could not call it stuffy.

‘I am a New Woman, Max; such ideas do not concern me. This is a public place. We are doing nothing wrong. What else matters?’

He smiled at her then and she felt her heart skip a beat. It was such a gentle, heart-felt smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes and warmed their depths.

‘I am glad. It was not until after you left that I realised I may have inadvertently placed you in an untenable position for your occupation’s sake.’

‘Believe me, my occupation has taken me into many far less savoury situations. I am just happy to be here with you so we can continue our conversation of earlier today.’

‘As am I. I have thought of very little else since our last meeting. My clients today have been somewhat at a loss with my woolly-headed assessments of their cases.’

Eilish felt her face warm with a blush. This open sharing of his feelings was unexpected for one who had seemed so proper. It was probably inappropriate for a married man to say such things. Even so, they warmed her and seemed to describe her own distracted state since they’d met.

‘I do apologise. That was an unsuitable admission. I am finding it hard to decide what to say to you. I have never… felt like this before.’

‘Like what?’ she asked breathlessly.

At that moment, a waiter arrived with the bill of fare and proceeded to pour iced water into glasses.

‘Would sir care to see the wine list?’

‘No, thank you. Just bring us a bottle of your best champagne.’

‘Of course, sir.’

Eilish busied herself with the menu. It was in French and she had to consult her download to translate it.

‘The food here is excellent. They have one of the best French chefs in London. Would you like me to suggest possibilities I think you would enjoy?’

‘Please do. Everything looks so delicious. I must tell you though, I do not have a large appetite so only a few courses will suffice.’

‘Good. Our propensity to consume huge quantities of food is only second to the Ancient Romans. I restrict myself to three courses when I can. It is difficult to do when invited to another’s home. Some of the ton seems intent on competing with each other over the amount of courses they offer. I was at dinner with a certain Duchess last season where there were fifteen courses served. Even eating sparingly, I was so uncomfortable by the end of the evening I could barely move.’

‘When so many are living hand-to-mouth it seems indecent to consume excess quantities of food just for the sake of it,’ Eilish said, hoping she did not offend.

‘I agree completely. And over-eating is not good for your digestion or your general health. Have I talked you out of your meal entirely by now?’

Eilish laughed softly and shook her head. Once more, she found herself caught by the mesmerising effect of his warm gaze. How had she lived so long and never experienced this breathless enchantment?

‘Then I would recommend an entrée of Soufflé au Fromage – a cheese soufflé, very light and mild. For the main course, the Steak au Poivre with Cognac Sauce is an excellent choice – not too peppery. A selection of seasonal vegetables accompanies it. Then for dessert, I suggest the Mousse au Chocolat or a Fromage platter, if you do not have a sweet tooth.’

‘Oh, I definitely have a sweet tooth and have a particular craving for chocolate at any time. That selection sounds perfect.’

When the waiter returned to take their order, Eilish enjoyed their interaction. Rather than treat the man as an insignificant servant, Max called him by name and asked after any specialities of the day that might be of interest. He listened with genuine attentiveness to the man’s expert opinion, but then opted for the courses they had already selected.

‘Do you know all the staff by name?’ she had to ask.

‘Most of them. This is my home away from home; particularly since my marriage … umm… that does my wife a disservice. What I mean is that my work keeps me late most nights and rather than disturb the household, I often eat here before going home. If I am very tardy, I will stay here for the night. Kensington is not far, but it is far enough if I have a late night and an early start planned.’

‘Will you go home tonight?’

‘Yes. My wife has gone to Kent to visit her father. Oh dear, I seem unable to…’

‘Max, please. You do not have to watch your tongue with me. I will not write anything defamatory about you or your domestic situation. That is not the nature of the article. I would prefer it if you spoke honestly rather than politely with me.’

Max’s face showed several emotions in the silence that followed. The first expression was astonishment, the second was disbelief, and the third seemed to be cautious hope, as if he was looking for a trick and yet was desperate for there to be none.

‘I try to always be honest,’ she said again, so that her meaning was clear. ‘Although there are times when honesty does not serve the greater good.’

‘You are a woman after my own heart. There are some men of the law who are accomplished liars and charlatans. I am not one of them. If I do not believe in my client’s case, I do not take it. So saying, I have mastered the art of diplomacy over the years, especially with my wife.’ He stopped and groaned, rubbing his forehead.

‘All right, it is probably becoming clear to you that my marriage is not much more than one of convenience; for my wife’s convenience, rather than my own. We are not happily married. However, up until today, I have not been overly concerned about it. I have never been a particularly hot-blooded man. Maybe my Victorian parents are to blame for that, I do not know. I married Agnes because she seemed to be a damsel in distress and I saw myself as Lancelot or Saint George. Unfortunately, my gallantry was wasted.’

At that moment, the wine waiter arrived and showed Max his selection. They sat in tortured impatience as he opened the champagne with a pop and poured the icy, bubbling liquid into fragile glasses. After tasting the wine, Max gave the man the go-ahead to pour. Then, for several more moments, they sat and drank in silence.

‘Until today?’ Eilish asked finally, picking out the most significant part of the tense speech to focus on. Her voice wobbled unsteadily.

‘Until you walked into my office, to be exact. Please, I do not mean to offend you and I would understand completely if you felt the need to leave immediately. However, I have spent my life constrained by caution and restraint and I am afraid that if I continue in that way, I might lose the only chance for…’

‘Max…’

‘No Eilish, let me finish this blundering monologue before you make your apologies and leave. I have never felt the need for romantic intimacies. My wife does not care for my attentions, and after the initial rebuff, it did not concern me. Nor have I let my attentions wander elsewhere, until today. I am not inviting you to be my mistress, if that is what you think…’

‘Max, stop.’ Eilish interrupted his tortured speech with some impatience. ‘You do not have to say these things to me. I know you are not a man who takes matters of the heart lightly. That you feel something for me is a compliment unlike any I have ever received.’

‘But?’ He looked at her