That made Esther’s lips twitch, and she almost smiled. “Grace? She is no more fearsome than a kitten.”
“She has all the patience I wasn’t born with, however, and will out-wait you.” Hope made a show of looking bored.
Finally, Esther relented. “Very well. I will tell you everything. But you will keep it between us.”
“And Grace.” Hope corrected her posture, a gleam of excitement in her eye. “I cannot keep secrets from Grace. But go on. Let me hear your story.”
Esther looked from the eager Hope to an uncertain Mary, then nodded to the maid. As Mary helped her from her travel clothing, Esther told of the morning that Hermes fell, of rescuing Silas, and the ensuing dilemma with her reputation. Then she excused Mary to finish unpacking. It did not take long to reveal what she had heard listening through the crack of her brother’s study.
“I am being treated like a helpless child,” she said, finishing the story. “No one has consulted me about a thing, merely told me what to do and how to behave myself.”
“That would be rather upsetting,” Hope agreed, her brows lowered thoughtfully. “Given that all of this happened because of an act of bravery on your part. It is most unfair. When Silas comes, I think you ought to tell him exactly how you feel.”
Esther had been pacing, wearing a night-rail over a clean shift, but stopped short of a step when Hope spoke. “Lord Inglewood is coming here?”
“He said he would visit his estate while you stayed with us.” Hope shrugged. “That was in the letter to Father, too.”
Esther drew herself up to her full height. “Why? I thought he meant to watch over the situation in London.”
“I haven’t any idea.” Hope pushed herself out of the chair and came forward, wrapping Esther in an unexpected embrace. “I am glad you told me of your troubles. I will do my best to help you forget them, as will Grace. We will have a lovely time while you visit.”
“I—Thank you.” Esther barely had time to return the affectionate gesture before Hope whirled away and out of the room. Mary closed the door behind her, with a puzzled expression that must have matched Esther’s.
“I’m not sure I would’ve told her anything, miss,” Mary said, her face full of worry. “She doesn’t seem like the sort to keep things like that to herself.”
“Oh, she will tell her sister, certainly.” Esther folded her arms over her chest, protecting herself from a future she could not see. “I think she will be an ally while we are here. Hope was a fierce protector and fighter of causes when we were children.” But Esther had never been one of those causes and hadn’t any idea what to expect from her lady knight errant.
∞∞∞
Before Silas stepped foot on his land, he could smell the sea. His family had owned several miles of the shoreline for generations, and built their somewhat unique house at such a point that they could look out of its highest towers for a clear view of the North Sea. It had always been rather comforting to him, the sight of all that water stretching before him, the smell of the briny air. No matter what happened to him, to the Keep, to Great Britain itself, the sea would always be there, its waves crashing onto the beach throughout time.
He stared out at the sea only minutes after arriving at Inglewood Keep, from the balcony of his room.
The continuity of the sea steadied him on the rare occasions he doubted himself or his direction. Such as the moment he made plans to salvage Esther Fox’s reputation. Of course, given that she had saved him from being crushed by an antiquated god, he owed her his best efforts on that score.
His lips turned up slightly at the memory of her wit, though she lay injured upon a couch. The girl had grown into a beautiful woman. If the rumors died down, he might have need to write Isaac for permission to get to know Esther better.
A picnic had been arranged with several local families for that afternoon, and he had received an invitation to join them while he’d been preparing to leave London. The Everlys had sent it to him, in case he planned to be at his estate in time to attend. A gathering full of old neighbors and acquaintances, and held in the informal outdoors, would be the perfect place to check and see how far Esther’s encounter with him had spread.
Silas rested his elbows on the stone rail. The gossip in London had died down somewhat, as had the sly remarks at the club. One foul Whig had hinted at Silas’s less than noble behavior during an evening’s meeting at Lords. Gratefully, the papers hadn’t said anything yet.
What would Isaac say if he knew the precarious position of his sister? Silas had written him, giving a full account of Esther’s actions and the consequences thereof, in order to avoid Isaac hearing of a scandal without being forewarned. Though it was likely he men of the army cared little for ballroom gossip, given all they were going through.
“My lord,” Arnold said from the doorway. “Do you wish to prepare for the afternoon out?”
“Yes.” Silas adjusted his posture and slipped behind his mask of stone once more. “It promises to be a fine afternoon, Arnold.”
His valet bowed his agreement, and in his usual efficient manner had Silas turned out in style in a trice. Arnold had been with Silas long enough to know exactly what the earl required. While his clothing was of fine material, he wore somber colors and conservative cuts. None could ever accuse him of being a dandy or a slave to fashion. Silas’s dark blue coat, buff breeches, and a good pair of boots would see him through the picnic comfortably and respectably. His cravat, white as snow with a plain silver stickpin, marked him as a gentleman not about to do anything nonsensical.
He mounted his horse for the ride to Everly Refuge, three miles inland from his front door, fully expecting the day to turn out in his favor.
Chapter Six
Esther smoothed the front of her pale blue walking gown, peering into her looking glass with pursed lips. Her dark hair and eyes normally led her to choose more dramatic colors for her wardrobe, but as she was attempting to look the part of an innocent lady, with absolutely no reason for her name to be linked to a certain earl’s, more subdued colors seemed appropriate.
A knock at the door ended her self-study. “Esther, the cart is ready for the picnic. Are you finished?” It was Grace who called her, Esther felt certain of it. Grace had a way of speaking gently, no matter what she said, whereas Hope always sounded direct if not scolding when she brought someone to task.
“Coming,” she called, snatching up her gloves from the dressing table. She hurried out the door and caught up with Grace at the stairs. She slipped the wrist-length gloves on, attempting to show more enthusiasm than she felt for the day’s activities.
“The weather held out. I thought for certain it would rain again.” Grace’s usual calming manner did little to ease Esther’s thoughts. Esther had almost hoped for a storm. The rain had come and gone a great deal over the week she had been with the Everlys.
Several families she knew from her childhood would be present at the Everly picnic. The Parrs, the Keyes, a smattering of Kimballs. Silas had sent word, too, that he planned to attend. Not to her, of course, but to Mr. Everly, who had also not told her, but informed his wife. Mrs. Everly told her daughters who, thankfully, informed Esther.
Considering it was Esther’s reputation at stake, the frustration of being left untold and unconsulted at every turn continued to mount. Her headaches due to the injury she sustained a week before had finally abated, which left her thoughts surprisingly clear and focused. As kind as the Everlys were, each day with them drove into her thoughts two things; Society’s view of her interaction with Lord Inglewood was ludicrous, and the way she was shunted aside in every plan was insulting.
By the time they reached the meadow, next to the blooming apple orchards, Esther had worried herself into a confused state.
What role did she play at the picnic? Ought she to ignore the earl or pretend they had the oldest of friendships?
The first sight of the white flowers was the reason the picnic had been organized. The Eve
rlys were quite fond of their orchards and celebrated the first blooms, the first fruits, the harvest, and even the brilliantly colored leaves in the fall.
Esther stepped out of the cart, bringing with her a basket of pastries. Servants had already put out a table and chairs, thick tablecloths were spread in sunshine and shadow, and guests had arrived. Nursery aged children played lawn games in the middle of the meadow.
“What a splendid day,” Hope said, appearing at Esther’s elbow and hooking their arms together.
Grace stepped up to Esther’s other side, her expression politely pleasant. “Keep your shawls at hand. The breeze still has a chill to it.” She shivered and pulled her dark green shawl around her shoulders. The twins were easy to tell apart today. Hope wore a bright yellow gown and a scarlet shawl, proclaiming boldness to all the world, while Grace wore a dove-gray gown and a darker wrap, her expression subdued.
Together they walked to the blankets to reacquaint Esther with their neighbors.
“Oh, Miss Fox. It has been an age since we have seen you,” Mrs. Parr declared, rising to her feet to embrace Esther. “Not since your dear mother passed. My thoughts have often gone to you and Sir Isaac. I hope he is well on the Continent?”
Beneath the ease of small talk, Esther started to relax. From one neighbor to the next she walked, asking after the health of relatives, and finding not a single sniff of rumor concerning herself or Silas. Not until Mrs. Keyes spoke of him.
“Dear Miss Fox, how wonderful to see you,” she said. “My, my. It doesn’t seem long ago that you and my dear Merriweather were playing together in the nursery.”
“How is Miss Keyes?” Esther asked quickly, though not interested in the answer. Merriweather Keyes had been a rather vain child, and her appearance in Society the year after Esther’s had been marked by suitors fawning all over her.
“Perfectly well.” Mrs. Keyes leaned closer, her tone turning sly. “In fact, I have rather high hopes for her at present. She is walking with Lord Inglewood in the orchard.” She stepped back again with a satisfied smile. “He asked her for a stroll moments after he arrived.”
Esther’s stomach twisted. Rather than wait to see her, which was supposedly the whole point in coming to the place of her exile, Silas had immediately secured time alone with one of the absolute worst people of Esther’s acquaintance. Why would he wish to spend even a moment with Miss Keyes? Artifice marked every action that woman took.
“The trees are lovely,” Grace said, most cordially. “I love walking beneath them myself.” She looped her arm through Esther’s. “Miss Fox, do come look at the blossoms. You have not seen them yet.”
After Grace led them several steps away, Esther whispered, “Thank you. I have never been fond of the Keyes.”
Without flickering an eyelash, Grace said, “Nor have I. But they are good neighbors, and it is difficult to escape their society without causing other issues.” Grace paused when they reached the first of the early blooming trees, then peered into the orchard. Esther looked, too, and saw several couples and small groups of people walking through the rows of trees. She thought she caught sight of Silas’s tall form moving between tree trunks, but it was likely no more than her imagination.
“You needn’t worry about Silas,” Grace said.
“I beg your pardon?” Esther blinked and looked down at the delicate woman. “I wasn’t—”
“You were. A little. He is too clever to let Miss Keyes into his life on a permanent basis.” Grace smiled gently. “She is a terrible gossip, for one thing. I imagine that is why he is walking with her, to see if rumor of what happened in London has come here yet.”
“Oh.” The knot inside her loosened a small measure.
“Excuse me. My mother appears to be looking for me.” Grace gave Esther’s arm a friendly touch before walking away, back to the table where the older set had taken up seats and plates. Esther watched her go, then looked about for some means of entertainment for herself. Most ages were represented by the guests, though children of school age were absent, including the Everlys’ school aged sons and daughters who boarded away from home. There were young ladies and gentlemen, the middling set of couples and parents, and a handful of silver-haired people sitting in the sunlight, draped in shawls.
She had decided to go watch the children play lawn games when Silas called to her from behind, his rich voice immediately recognizable.
“Miss Fox, there you are.”
She composed her features, raising her eyebrows and pressing her lips together in a smile as she turned. “Lord Inglewood. Miss Keyes.” She curtsied, meeting Miss Keyes’s gaze squarely. Silas bowed and the blonde beauty on his arm performed a perfectly executed dip.
“Miss Keyes said you were visiting,” Silas said, his expression completely neutral. “As soon as I learned of it, I knew I must seek you out. I wish for news of Sir Isaac.”
That was his plan? To pretend to hardly know her, and seek her out for the sake of her brother? Esther’s eyes darted from his to Miss Keyes, whose chin was lifted higher than necessary, and her arm snaked around Silas’s most possessively.
In an instant, Esther was reminded of the summer she turned twelve years old. Merriweather Keyes had been present at a small party, Isaac and Silas were eighteen and starting University soon. Merriweather had watched them, her eyes gleaming, and said to Esther, “A baronet would be a fine husband, I think. But an earl would be better.” At the time, Esther had tried to hide her disgust and forget the troublesome girl. What child of twelve schemed to marry an earl?
A child that, as a nineteen-year-old woman, still schemed.
“Miss Fox?” Silas asked, breaking through Esther’s distasteful thoughts. “Are you well?”
What had he asked before? Something about Isaac. “Perfectly, my lord. I was only thinking how best to tell you of my brother’s doings.” She sighed somewhat regretfully. “While there is much to tell, I cannot imagine a lady of Miss Keyes’s sensibilities would wish to hear it. War is a most unpleasant subject.” Esther smiled in what she hoped was a suitably compassionate manner. “Perhaps we may speak on it another time. But I will tell you Isaac is well, of course.”
Hopefully Silas was intelligent enough to realize she was asking for a private word with him. Of course, as he was one of the leading members of the Tory party, he ought to have some brains to decipher things with.
“People have spoken of wars our whole lives,” Miss Keyes said, batting her eyelashes. “I find the subject most dull, actually.”
Silas's eyes briefly flickered to Miss Keyes in a way that Esther thought betrayed his dismay, but his expression quickly settled back into one of neutrality. “I would not wish to bore you, Miss Keyes. Won’t you find a spot for us to enjoy luncheon? I will take Miss Fox on a turn through the orchard and rejoin you shortly.”
Esther bit the insides of her cheeks to keep from laughing when Merriweather Keyes appeared surprised, then angry. She had been cast aside, at least for a time, and it was her own fault. She fixed Esther with a narrow-eyed gaze, then her chin resumed its lofty tilt.
“Of course, Lord Inglewood. A pleasure to see you again, Miss Fox.” Miss Keyes took herself away, her skirts rustling almost indignantly.
Watching the lady’s retreat, Esther murmured quietly, “Did you know she is laying a trap for you, my lord?”
“It could not be more obvious,” Silas said, his tone as low as hers. “Thankfully, she lacks the cunning she thinks she has in abundance. Miss Fox, will you join me for our walk?” Her first response was a frown. “We must keep up appearances,” he added.
“Yes. I suppose we must.” She took his offered arm and followed him into the trees. “Which appearances, exactly, are we attempting to maintain?” she asked after a few moments. The grasses beneath the apple trees were soft and new, the air around them filled with spring and life. It almost made her feel more charitable toward Silas, but she could not forget his slight of leaving her out of all the plans.
&nbs
p; “That we are old acquaintances, due to the friendship between me and your brother,” Silas said. “Which is the truth, of course. There is nothing more to our relationship.”
“Of course not. There never has been.” Esther’s gaze fell to the ground, her voice echoing to her from the past. Can I come, Isaac? Please, Silas. I want to play, too.
Their answers were all variation on the same. You are too little. Babies belong in the nursery. Little girls cannot come.
“We have not spoken since that day at the Spartons’ home.” Silas’s deep voice was touched with more emotion. Perhaps regret. When she peered at him from the corner of her eye, Esther saw the same expression he had worn moments before. Did he hide everything he felt? He had not always been so difficult to read.
“No, my lord.” She averted her eyes to the grass, wondering how bold she might be with what she had to say. “Though I understand you visited and orchestrated my removal from London.”
“I thought it for the best. With you out of sight of Society, people might turn their minds to fresher scandals.” Silas paused in their walk, giving her reason to look up at him again, meeting his deep green eyes. Surprisingly, when she kept her focus there, Esther found she could interpret his feelings. Those eyes were earnest. Even kind. “I must thank you again, Miss Fox. Your quick action doubtlessly prevented my injury, perhaps my death. I owe you a great deal.”
Esther shivered and pulled the shawl tighter about herself. “Nonsense. I acted on impulse and would have done the same for a stranger. We are both whole, and that is all that matters.” She took a step, attempting to drag him forward with her, but Silas stayed still.
“I do not think you understand, Miss Fox. That selfless action almost damned you in the eyes of Society, marking you in a way that could harm your prospects and your family’s reputation.”
She pulled her arm from his and stepped back, taking in his countenance and most particularly his eyes again. “My lord, I understand perfectly. Having been raised all my life as a lady, whose duty it is to uphold the family honor by guarding my own virtue, I know precisely what is at risk at this very moment.” She clenched her gloved hands and started walking again, uncaring if he followed.
Rescuing Lord Inglewood: A Regency Romance Page 5
