The Bore Crown was a tavern along Thames Street, which happened to also offer rooms for travelers. It was among the suggested establishments by the coachman, but given more money to spend, he would quickly choose a different establishment – something befitting Claire’s status. Nick was worried about her and had reasons to doubt the sincerity of the enthusiasm that she was showing. Nevertheless, he indulged her.

Nick placed an arm around her shoulders when she requested to go with him to talk to the inn keeper. They were out of place because of the way they were dressed and he didn’t like the way some of the men were staring at his wife. Call him selfish, but he much enjoyed being stared at than watching others stare at his wife.

The crowd inside the dining hall of the tavern was loud, he wasn’t sure that she had ever been to a place like that. The good thing though, was nobody dared to call either of their attentions. A number of transactions were done all at once – business and personal – but above all that, the general population of the tavern was intent in getting themselves possessed by the spirit of ale. It was a good place to hear juicy gossips, especially after the alcohol did its job of lowering the inhibitions of the customers. Tempting as it was, Nick couldn’t just deposit his wife in their rented room and then spend the night mining information. She would most likely want to come with him just as she did when he fetched the keys. Besides, didn’t she say that their little tragedy was like a honeymoon away from home? 

“Can we have food served in our room?” he quietly asked the innkeeper after the keys were given to them. 

The young man behind the desk nodded. “Most certainly, sir.” He opened a drawer and pulled out a list of the food that was being served for the night. Ordinary food, nothing fancy. He ordered a course of fish, vegetables and bread, plus wine for the two of them, and hoped that the food was good.

Their room, he thought, was overly simple, but clean. There was a double bed, a dresser, and a vanity table. Its floor and walls were made of wood, two widows were at the far end of the room. It was clean, well illuminated, and functional. It would do for the night, but he wasn’t sure what Claire thought about it. 

He closed the door behind him, after they both entered, shutting out the noise from the dining area. “This is the other side of England,” he said slowly, as if she wouldn’t understand that London was not all elegance and riches. She was a sheltered heir to a title and she wasn’t very aware about the real world. This was just a glimpse of the working class. 

“I hope you like it so far, your majesty” he teased, bowing low at the waist, then wincing as the action stressed his wound. A smile tugged the corner of his lips even as he winced. “We’re lucky to find one not too far from the port. Not too many drunk either. I would encourage you to mingle with all the people if I wasn’t feeling greedy tonight.”

Nick moved to the bed and sat on its edge. “I didn’t like the way some of those men were looking at you,” he confessed. “Why don’t you try wearing something that covers significantly more of your skin? I will take you shopping for more conservative clothes. I’ll even pay for it.” He chuckled thinking how silly he was sounding. Would she think that he was being jealous? Was he being jealous?
 
He lay down on the bed, with his arms under his head and his legs dangling at the edge and waited for their food to arrive. “Come here,” he invited. “Sit with me. Don’t worry, I will not take advantage of you.”