A Different Class - 2

Chapter Two 

He hailed a cab, and gave an address a few miles away. Within ten minutes Bec was sat in a booth of a very elegant wine bar, watching Nathaniel at the bar. She was in awe of his presence, even his shoes were elegant, and probably more expensive than any pair she owned. He was very tall, with that blond hair, short and well kept, and unlike his obese, excessive father, he was athletic, slightly tanned and good looking in a posh, perfect kind of way. She was never more glad that she'd dressed for the occasion, and didn't feel under dressed in the bar that would be so uncomfortable. For all the pomp and ceremony that this sort of place demanded, she didn't feel intimidated by the occasion.

A gang of girls all in matching trouser suits sat near the bar giggling over champagne, but all turned to stare at him as he headed towards her with a wine bucket and two glasses. He was s o comfortable in his skin, she couldn't imagine Johnny or Lyle her two best mates even contemplating drinking wine in a bar, by then they were heathens!  

“Is Pinot Grigio ok? I ordered some mixed tapas too, you’re not veggie are you!”

She shook her head, “That’s a statement not a question!”

Nathaniel nodded, “I am quite an observant man! One of the things you DIDN'T argue with father about was meat!”

She took the glass he poured for her and took a long sip in what she hoped was a ladylike manner. His intonation, as perfect as everything else about him, started to feel a little threatening, the last thing she wanted was to appear as his father had viewed her. Common and inconsequential.

“So Nathaniel? Can I call you that?” She broke the silence and dragged her mind away from her own insecurities.

“It’s Nate actually, to everyone but my father dearest!”

“Okay, Nate, so what do you do? Seeing as you know so much about me!”

He smiled as he swallowed a small sip of his wine, “I work for a major city bank….I process accounts for overseas clients, and create portfolios…..does that make any sense? because sometimes I get confused!”

She shrugged, not finding his attempts to belittle the intricacies of his work condescending, “sort of, so these are megabuck accounts then?”

Grinning, he nodded, “pretty much so, I keep an eye on the current trends of stocks, shares and advise my clients. I travel a reasonable amount, mainly to New York or Washington, with the current climate my trips into Europe seem to have reduced! But the rest of the time I just manipulate figures.”

She traced her finger around the rim of her glass, “I doubt that very much, I expect you’re both very intelligent and very important, don’t tell me let me guess, Eton then Oxford?”

He smiled, “Cambridge actually. And again Ms Taylor don’t prejudge!”

Despite the warning in his voice he took her snap comments in good humour. She was instantly apologetic,“Ok. Ok. And call me Bec, only my boss and my parents called me Rebecca, or anything else so formal.”

“Past tense? Are they not around anymore?”

She shook her head, “they both died, my dad when I was a six, my mother when I was nine. I was in foster care til I went to University.” She snapped her mouth closed, annoyed that she'd let that fact spill out so easily, she was normally a closed book. Not even her group of best friends knew much about it, and here she was chatting so freely with a stranger.

Nate was silent as he looked at her, he could tell that she’d said more than she intended, and her vulnerability was tugging at his heart strings. “That must have been so hard for you….we are a million miles apart? I did not realise.”

She shook her head to clear the fog of depression that was always just a few moments away. “No, not really. As I said to your father, we're all varieties, but when it comes down to it, we all breathe, eat and 'use the bathroom'!”

“You said that? Oh I so wish I had witnessed that! What a classic comment!” He had another drink then looked at her again, “you are probably the feistiest woman I have ever met! Probably my Dad too. No wonder he was so defensive...” He saw her eyes widen. "He's a man! Threaten him he will fight! I am not excusing his behaviour!"

“And does that scare you like it scared your father?”

He laughed, “no, definitely not. But it does intrigue me! You intrigue me!”

The conversation halted as a waiter laid several dishes between them. And Bec struggled to digest that last comment.

“Do you like Spanish food?” She had to pull her eyes up to meet his when he finally broke the silence.

Rebecca nodded heartily as she pierced an olive with a cocktail stick and slipped it into her mouth, “I spent a year in Barcelona during University. See I‘m not completely unworldly, not totally uneducated.”

Nat paused to spear his own olive then crunched it looking at her intently, waiting until he'd finished before he spoke. “I know that. I think you are a very intelligent and smart woman.”

She blushed, “no, just scraped through college and worked in a bar in Barcelona…”

“More freedom than I had I suppose. Straight from school to University to a job climbing the scales at this bank…” he looked rueful. “There's a lot to be said for a year working in a bar. I think I would have loved it.”

With irony, she nodded, “I’m sure you would. Though how would you cope with sharing a flat with four other students, a dirty flat that is, above Las Ramblas. Just enough cash to pay your bills….” She looked at him and laughed, “To me it was the greatest adventure, but I sense to you it'd have been a below budget level holiday. You're right that we're different.”

He nodded, “but different is good. I like different!” Eyes pierced her, those deep blue eyes. 

Bec blushed in his gaze dropping her eyes, instead looking at the plates between them, then using her fork she scooped up an albondiga, a spicy meatball. Reaching her lips she realised it was a little too big to slide into her mouth, so she tried to bite at it delicately.

Laughing Nat reached out quickly with a napkin and caught a large dribble of tomato sauce before it landed on her suit.

She swallowed the food, then put the fork down, “God I’m such a slob, sorry Nat, I try not to be! Maybe your dad is right. I'm not worthy of cleaning your shoes, am I?”

“For God’s sake Bec, get over it! So you dribbled a little sauce! It’s hardly shoplifting or knife crime! I think you are refreshing. And I do not mean that in a condescending way at all. I have had enough of the  protocol and procedure that litters my life. I would love to just throw everything in and live in a beach hut….or climb a mountain…..I don’t know be spontaneous. I am sick of the stigma that my title brings. I envy you so much!”

They ate in relative silence as she tried to contemplate his words. She thought that being the future Earl of Cartwright, a titled aristocrat was all that everyone could want. Opportunity, chances, financial security...he made it seem like a cross he had to bear, and he wasn't happy at that.

Nate gestured to the barman for another bottle of wine, and when it arrived he pulled a note out of a dark brown leather wallet and handed it to the waiter, “Keep the change!”

Pouring them a glass each they discussed light topics, the weather, the news, the traffic problems in certain parts of the City. Anything other than themselves, they’d both given way more information than they would instinctively this early on.

It was dark outside when she finally looked at her watch. “I really should be going….it’s so late!”

Nat glanced at his watch, “me too, I’ve got to be on the seven am Manchester train tomorrow.”

“There was me thinking that my eight thirty meeting with my ecstatic boss was a big deal!”

He smiled, “your day may be marginally more pleasurable than mine if that’s the case. And he has every reason to be ecstatic with you! I’ll call us a cab.”

“I’m sure you don’t live anywhere near me, I’ll get myself a cab.”

“a) I dragged you here so it is my responsibility to get you home and b) if there is one thing I am, it is a gentleman. So I will see you home!”

He offered her a hand and she took it as he led her out into the dark street, trying to ignore the sudden rapid increase in her heart beat at the feel of his warm strong hand ensconcing hers.

It took just a few moments to find a taxi, and they travelled in companionable silence the few miles to her home, all the time his hand still held hers and her heart pounded almost making it impossible to hear any conversation, fortunately he was silent.

Nate paid the taxi at the end of the grove that led to the old converted house of which her flat was the middle floor. She stared at him as he turned away, pocketing his wallet.

“I am not expecting to come in, or take advantage of you; I just want to see you to your door. Is that alright? I'll get another taxi once you're safe.”

She shrugged, “I suppose so.”

“Now!” he said as they started towards her house, “I was quite enjoying holding your hand, do you mind?”

She gasped silently as he reclaimed her hand, she hadn’t felt this excited in years, she ignored the voice that warned her she’d never felt this much….what was it? Attraction? 

At the door he stepped back, “I have actually enjoyed this evening far more than I imagined. You are good company Rebecca.”

She smiled up at him, “I am as surprised as you…”

With that he cupped her face with his hand, softly, yet with intent, “I’m going to kiss you….so if you want to run, now is the time…”

Bec had never been warned like that before but she was powerless to resist as his lips came down gently on to hers, and her heart hammered against her chest, butterflies threatening to dislodge the shared bottles of wine and food as her stomach lurched, all the time his lips were gently assaulting hers, prising them apart, and then finally his his tongue slid in to meet hers. Her arms were clamped around his neck, his were running leisurely up and down her spine.

“Gosh!” he finally breathed pulling away. “I cannot believe my behaviour…I am so much better than this, groping you, a lady, in the street.” He straightened her jacket, “I'm on the first Monday morning commuter train to Manchester in the morning. Can I meet you Tuesday? I’ll take you out for dinner?”

Nate spotted the look or reluctance in her eyes, “it is just dinner Rebecca, a nice little Italian I know, a dozen tables, no fuss, just relaxed, me and you and a chicken Alfredo?”

She smiled, “that would be lovely.”

Bec could hardly sleep with anticipation, and after a long almost interminable day in work, she met her best friends Johnny, Lyle, Tara and her boyfriend Jase. The four of them, minus Jase had met in Uni and been firm friends ever since.  They’d all shared a flat until six months ago when Tara had moved in with Jase, at the same time the boys took an extended holiday around Europe. Bec had been unable to afford the rent on their home alone, and the thought of sharing a home with strangers repulsed her. So she’d moved into a smaller flat on her own. Expensive, but the best thing she'd done. 

They still met up most weeks to catch up, usually over a Chinese or Indian meal and a few beers. Tonight was no exception, but they were expecting the inside gossip on her very public encounter with Sir Edward. She'd been unable to exchange more than the odd text with any of them, and she knew that there'd be a long debrief over several pints that evening.

“Cider?” Lyle shouted from the bar as she entered the pub that was equidistant between their homes, and their regular meeting spot.

Bec nodded, giving an 'of course' facial gesture, as she followed his hand directions out via the back room to find Johnny and Tara outside in the beer garden.

They all hugged as she squeezed around the table next to them.

“So superstar, how was it really?” Tara asked her face in a presumptuous  grimace.

Bec shook her head, “Aw-ful! The man is an absolute bigoted buffoon. I have to say it was hell on legs. I never, ever want to see him again.” She then regaled stories of his actions and elaborated on things they'd seen on TV.

“Well you won’t, will you?”

Bec gave a shrug. All bets were off since his dapper and handsome son had swept into her life.

“What does that mean?” Johnny asked, “Do I sense some gossip?”

“What gossip? Lyle asked, placing a tray of drinks on the table.

“Well,” Tara started, “Bec was just saying that a fortnight with Sir Snobby Knob was more than she could handle, and she never wants to see him again….then there was a but!”

“But?” he asked sliding on to the bench opposite her.

“His son Nate has asked me out on a date!”

“Little Lord Fauntleroy? Surely you’re not going!” Tara was agog.

She shrugged, “I’d have said no a million times, but he’s ok….so I said yes!”

They all shouted and laughing slapped her on the back, “What the hell!” was her only answer.

After a raucous Indian meal, she headed home, glad of the alcohol to help her sleep.