As his voice carried over Aubrey’s head, she was amazed at the complete transformation of the barkeep’s demeanor. “We do sir, right this way.”
She was amazed and also miffed.
Quite miffed.
Once she’d been seated and the barkeep had left the two of him alone, she could hardly contain herself. “That was… Why… I can hardly…” She was so outraged that she could hardly put together a coherent sentence. “Why is it that he was so obliging where you were concerned after being so, so, so unobliging toward me?”
Mr. Bateman merely chuckled as he unfolded the napkin that had been placed on the table in from of him.
“It absolutely isn’t fair!” And yet she’d known this inequity existed. She’d experienced an abundance of it within her marriage. Somehow, a part of her had imagined she’d escaped such disparities when she’d left Rockford Beach. Apparently, she hadn’t.
“It absolutely is not.” Mr. Bateman smiled when a maid opened the door carrying two tumblers filled with ale. “Thank you, luv.” He winked at the young woman as she smiled flirtatiously at him.
Aubrey felt utterly deflated. Was every woman either luv orPrincesseor darling to him? And was that all that any woman ever was? Somebody to be charmed at will and then ignored when she was no longer convenient?
It wasn’t fair.
And she oughtn’t to be angry with Mr. Bateman, of all people. He owed her nothing. In exchange for a ride in her carriage to London, he’d been helpful and pleasant.
But he was a man and therefore could not really be considered a friend.
She stared down at the amber liquid in the glass before her and exhaled a deep breath. It wasn’t Mr. Bateman’s fault that she did not know how to cope with men like that barkeep.
“Ah, come now, Mrs. Bateman. Nothing can be all that bad.” Of course, he would joke about it.
Aubrey forced herself to smile.
“I wish I knew better how to deal with a person like that man. I wish I knew what to say that would make him realize I am a person, just as everyone else. That I am respectable.” And yet she knew that a woman could mostly only ever demand respectability through the man who protected her, whether it was her husband, a brother, or father.
“You do not need a man to establish authority.” Mr. Bateman stared at her steadily across the table. “You have the power inside of you and I have every faith you will learn how to summon it before long.”
His confidence gave her pause.
“Can you give me any hints as to what this undefinable trait is that is hiding inside of me, because I was failing miserably before you came to my rescue.” She brushed at her clothing. “I don’t suppose it helped that I’m covered in mud.”
“It matters not if you’re covered in mud or dressed to be presented to the queen. It is your own strength. From what you’ve said, you’ve endured more than most ladies your age already. What carried you through till the end? What kept you from giving up on life? Figure that out, Princess, and you’ll find yourself respected by those who matter.”
Aubrey felt as though he was telling her something she already knew, and yet whatever it was, it eluded her.
“What carries you through?” She asked. Because no one could ever argue that Mr. Bateman of Trequin Bay did not command great respect.
He rubbed at his chin. “Knowing who I am, I suppose.” At the confusion in his gaze she guessed he’d not evernotfound himself highly regarded.
“Admit it. You have always had it.”
But he was shaking his head. “When we first arrived in England, the other boys thought I was strange. I talked funny. I had come from a country that didn’t garner much esteem at the time. In addition to that, I was the new boy in school.”
“Surely they did not hold all of that against you?” She imagined him running around in short pants, getting into all sorts of trouble and leading others along as well.
“I was barely seven, and I was scrawny and pale and had the voice of a choir boy. The older children called me Cocky Talkie.” He ran a hand down his face. “It was a shortening of my Christian name.” He looked an altogether different type of adorable when he was embarrassed.
“And that is?”
“Cochran. Cochran Charles Bateman.”
Aubrey tucked the information away to mull over later.
He stared out the window. “There was this one boy, mean as hell. Sat behind me in class and delighted in hitting me on the head throughout class. One day, decided I’d had enough. Not very original, but I turned around and plowed my fist into his nose. Blood everywhere. Miss Teller, I’ll never forget. She made us sit beside one another for the rest of the term. The blighter’s been my best friend ever since.” He was shaking his head as he remembered. “Damned Hollis, howled as though I’d shot him with a revolver. To this day, I’ve yet to see so much blood come out of one person.”
