Rescuing Lord Inglewood: A Regency Romance

by Sally Britton

  Not one of them would guess correctly at his feelings on the matter. Of that he could be certain. He tipped his hat to them, then nudged his horse’s ribs to follow after the cart. The fine spring day had dissolved into something of a mess. But at least he acted with honor.

  Chapter Seven

  Dear Isaac,

  I do not know what stories you will hear, as far away from London’s Society as I wish to be. You doubtless have more pressing matters on your mind as this war draws to a close. But I wished to tell you the truth of things, so you will not think less of me.

  Esther stared down at the letter she had started a half dozen times since her soaking at the picnic. This time she sat at the table in the Everlys’ house, though she had been to London and attempted the same thing there between Diana’s lectures and forced shopping trips. It didn’t seem to matter how or where she tried to write, she could not bring herself to tell her brother about her foolishness. Impulsivity apparently ran in the family, given his purchase of a commission and her abrupt engagement.

  The wedding was tomorrow. The matter had been much simplified when Silas said their banns need only be read in one church, as her family’s ancestral home and his were part of the same parish. That had been one of the few things he’d explained, more to Mr. Everly than to her. She’d sat in the study, in dry clothes with a blanket wrapped around her, while Silas spoke of the matter to her host.

  Esther was given a day in bed before she was sent to London, a letter from Silas in her hands, to tell her stepbrother and Diana of the change in plans.

  The days passed by in a blur, with no further word from Silas directed to her, but several notes passed between Hugh and the earl, including lists of what ought to be purchased for her in London. And money. Silas paid for everything. Dictated everything. Diana barely consulted Esther on more than her color preference of her gowns. As an earl, accustomed to people obeying him, perhaps Silas knew no other way to behave.

  An earl. And Silas. Although she had hoped to find a comfortable marriage, she had not dreamed even once of marrying a high-ranking peer or her brother’s boyhood friend. A country gentleman, or a man of business like her stepbrother, as a husband had been a comfortable thought. Her only desire for marriage had been to attain one of mutual convenience and respect.

  She did not know the first thing about being a countess. Thinking too long on the subject, of the responsibilities she knew nothing of, the time she would have to spend assisting Silas with his political work, made the world press in about her. Her chest grew tight, her throat closed, and she had to distract herself with something else entirely.

  “Esther?” Diana’s voice called through the closed door just before she rapped upon it. “Esther, Lord Inglewood is here to see you.” The Everlys had generously provided rooms for Esther, Hugh and Diana, and nursery space for their four children.

  Why would he want to see me? He hasn’t bothered himself with me since announcing our betrothal. She bit her tongue to keep from saying the words aloud. Their situation was her fault. She knew that. But she wished they might’ve talked of what was to come, spent some time learning about each other and what this marriage meant for them. Instead, Silas returned her to London and sent her instructions through her stepfamily.

  He hadn’t heard a word she said to him the day of the picnic. Or if he had, he didn’t care to understand them.

  Esther rose from her desk and stepped into the hall. Diana waited, foot tapping impatiently. She swept her eyes over Esther’s figure from the top of her head to her toes and nodded in satisfaction. “He is in the garden.”

  It did not take long for Esther to navigate her way out of the house and into the gardens on the eastern side, already dipped in the shadows of the house at that hour of the day. She heard Silas speaking before she saw him and paused when she realized he was conversing with someone already. The last time she had eavesdropped, it had gained her nothing, yet she hesitated to interrupt a discussion already underway.

  “…believe it. I am doing exactly the best thing.”

  “For who? You or Esther?” It was one of the twins. Likely Grace, given the gentleness of the question.

  “He doesn’t know.” The skeptical tone revealed Hope was present, too. “Esther has been batted about by everyone like a shuttlecock. You cannot keep doing that to her. It gives her no sort of permanence.”

  “The position of Countess of Inglewood ought to be permanence enough,” Silas said, sounding exasperated.

  “A title does not make a person happy,” Grace’s soft voice said, barely loud enough for Esther to hear.

  Was everyone going to discuss her future with Silas except for her? She looked down at the paving stones a moment, gathering her courage, then raised her head to call out, “Lord Inglewood? Are you here?”

  She heard Hope hiss, “For once in your life, think of something other than your standing in Society.”

  “We are here, Esther,” Grace called.

  Esther walked around the last hedge hiding their position. The twins rose from the bench they occupied as she approached, while Silas remained standing near a small fountain, his back to her. Hope came forward first, putting her hands upon Esther’s arms.

  “You look lovely, Esther. You will be a perfect bride tomorrow.” She kissed Esther’s cheek and stepped aside.

  Grace came forward and embraced her. “Do not stay out too long. It will be dark soon.” Then the twins left through the same break in the garden hedges Esther had entered.

  Esther waited a moment, studying Silas’s figure. He stood as tall as ever, his posture ramrod straight, though his hands were clasped behind his back. His dark hair appeared almost blue in the dimming light. No one could deny he was handsome, and from what she knew of his work in Parliament, he was clever, too. How could a man such as he even think of taking someone like her to wife?

  “Did you wish to speak to me, my lord?” she asked, refusing to step any closer to him. Their lives had turned upside down, their future joined in a most uncertain path. He had every right to be angry with her.

  “I think we are past the formalities, Esther,” he said, his shoulders momentarily falling as he sighed. Then he turned to look at her. His expression, stony and firm as ever, did not hide the dark circles beneath his eyes. “Call me Silas.”

  She had applied powder under her own just that morning in an attempt to hide the evidence of her disturbed sleep. For a moment, her heart went to him in sympathy. Their engagement had not been easy upon him, either.

  “Very well,” she said, keeping her tone low. Indifferent. “Silas. Why have you sought me out?”

  His brows pulled together, betraying his puzzlement, before he raised his hand to his forehead as if to smooth out the evidence of his thoughts. “We are to marry tomorrow. I thought it important we speak. There are things you may wish to know, concerning what happens after.”

  “Diana and Hugh have kept me informed,” Esther said. “They seemed to think it appropriate to share the contents of your letters with me. We will wed at the church, have a breakfast at Everly Respite, and then you will leave.” Again.

  “I must finish some political business in London. War business, actually.” He rubbed at his forehead again, then dropped his hand back to his side. “I hope to return the second week in April.”

  “I see. That does sound important.” A thread of satire made its way into her words. “Too important to have me along with you in London. I suppose it is best that I remain at the Keep.”

  Silas stared at her, then he took a step in her direction. “I will be back before you know it, and you will have time to adjust yourself to your position.”

  “Time, but no guidance. Silas, I do not know the first thing about being a countess.” Her voice rose and she swiftly bit her tongue, reminding herself she had promised to show no more emotion than he did. How did he hide everything so well? The drawings depicting him as a marble statue, still being carved as he stood in Lords, were startlin
g in their accuracy.

  “You are an intelligent woman,” he said, lifting one shoulder in a shrug. “And you know the house already. It will be fine, Essie.”

  Her words came out clipped and hot. “Do not call me that.”

  He jerked his head back. Was that what it took to reveal what was behind his marble facade? Shock from her falling into a stream, surprise when she stood up for herself?

  “That is not my name,” she said, tone quieter.

  “It is what Isaac called you,” Silas said, stepping forward again, peering at her closely. “What he always called you.”

  “Especially when he was leaving me behind. ‘Essie, you are a baby. Go back to the nursery. Essie, you are too little to come. Essie, I am going to fight the French.’” She wrapped her arms protectively about herself. “It is what my father called me before he died, what my mother whispered the last time I saw her, and I am done with it. Trimming my name from Esther to Essie does not make me smaller, or sweeter, or more understanding of people forever abandoning me. Go to London tomorrow. Directly after breakfast. Then stay as long as you wish.” She whirled around, ignoring when he called out to her.

  Guilt tried to creep into her heart, but she thrust it out. Tomorrow, though she had never wished for such a thing, she would be a countess. Countesses ought not feel guilty over standing their ground and speaking their minds.

  ∞∞∞

  Silas sat on the fountain’s edge and dropped his face into his hands. He really had no choice but to let Esther walk away. After their conversation the day of the picnic, before she’d fallen into the brook and sealed their fates together, Esther had exhibited a strength of opinion that surprised him. Though he’d been uneasy about sending her back to London, he had insisted upon it. Everyone must see her in town preparing her wedding trousseau. And he had stayed behind, readying the Keep for a new mistress, changing dozens of plans and reorganizing his schedule to accommodate a wedding.

  He couldn’t be away from London for long. Not when rumors that Prussia was moving on Paris circulated. And Wellington was pushing further inland. Though Silas stood in the House of Lords most days, he had lent his mind and a considerable amount of his fortune to the Home Office. He did not take part in the clandestine movements of spies and government agents, but those in power made him privy to information in the hopes that Silas would lend his personal property to the men who risked their lives to get their jobs done. Men like Isaac.

  Although their marriage was forced, Silas had not truly been averse to it. He’d always liked Esther. There were many times he coaxed smiles from her as a child, usually when she was told she could not take part in whatever game the boys played. Apparently, they remembered those times quite differently.

  He rose from the fountain and considered going back into the house, but Esther would not be likely to greet him kindly. It seemed another night alone was his fate.

  Perhaps Esther might speak with him more civilly after the wedding. He did not plan to leave for London immediately. There were things he needed to tell her, about his plans for the summer, about the house in Town. Elements of their marriage must also be discussed, especially since they barely knew each other.

  Silas sought out his horse and made his way home. He attempted to turn his mind to other matters, such as combating political opponents who might use his hasty marriage against him. This occupied his thoughts for a time, until he was back on Inglewood land, and someone called out to him.

  “My lord, the Earl of Inglewood, what are you doing on the road at this time of day?” the friendly voice called.

  Silas pulled his horse around, surprised to find another rider coming nearer. “Jacob the Almost Vicar,” he greeted his friend in kind, allowing a smile to stretch across his face. “What are you doing here? I did not think to see you until June.”

  “I heard you were getting married.” Jacob answered with an easy shrug. He wore the dark coat men of the cloth seemed to prefer, and a tall hat. “And my family will not mind me coming home before the living is ready.” His horse came abreast with Silas’s. “Congratulations on your marriage, Silas.”

  Silas’s smile slipped away. “Do you think Isaac will mind? I assume you have heard at least some gossip about all this.”

  “Hope wrote to me.” Jacob grinned.

  “That woman brushes aside the strictures of society like they are nothing more than sand flies.” Silas shook his head. “Although I am grateful for it this time, if it brought you home to visit. I must go back to London. I would appreciate having you here, as well as the twins, to keep an eye on Esther.”

  Jacob raised his blond eyebrows and he cocked his head to the side. “Keep an eye on her? Isn’t she returning to London with you? So you can show her off to all your snooty London set?”

  Of their group of friends, Jacob came from the humblest of circumstances. Isaac was a baronet at a young age, Silas an earl, and the twins’ father was one of the wealthiest landowners in the county. Jacob’s family owned a small amount of property, and his parents had seven children. That left precious little in the way of funds for dowries or education.

  Silas's family had the right to bestow the parish’s living on whomever they wished. The current vicar, a man nearing seventy, had at last decided to retire. Silas sponsored Jacob’s education with the hope that one day he could give the living to him.

  “I cannot take Esther with me to London,” Silas said firmly. “Our marriage is too new, under unfavorable circumstances, and I will not have her subjected to cutting remarks or the curious gossips. Next Season things will be different.”

  “Hm. Does Esther know you are protecting her?” Jacob asked.

  Silas shook his head. “Not yet. But she will. I suppose Hope told you how Esther feels about the match?”

  “Oh, she told me some of the tale. Do not worry too much. There are worse things than an arranged marriage. At least your bride likes you.”

  If Esther had ever liked Silas, he doubted she felt amicable toward him at the moment. Time would help. There would be an adjustment period. Eventually he hoped their relationship would warm into at least a mutual fondness.

  “It is not the worst arrangement,” Silas said aloud. “We know each other, our families; her brother is one of my oldest friends.”

  “But what is Esther Fox to you, Silas?” When he asked the question, Jacob sounded less like himself and more like a vicar. “You are about to speak vows before God and your neighbors, promising fidelity and protection to a woman you barely know. Are you thinking of what comes next? Your whole life as it stretches before you will be connected to hers.”

  Years ago, Silas might have laughed at his friend’s sudden seriousness. Jacob often went from lighthearted laughter to the most solemn sorts of contemplation. He had been the conscience of their little group. Silas led them from one game to another, Hope and Isaac spurred them into greater daring, Grace tempered them in kindness and safety, and Jacob kept them from acting in a manner that would shame their parents. To an extent.

  The position of vicar suited him well.

  “I intend to be a good husband, for as long as I live.” Silas let the words settle in his heart. Would it be enough? Was he enough? He shifted uncomfortably in his saddle. “Would you care to come share a drink with me?” he asked. “Perhaps we might even beg dinner of Cook.”

  “The night before you marry, do you think I would leave you alone?” Jacob’s grin widened and the attitude of a pious vicar vanished. “Of course I will come. Married men haven’t time for their friends, so I need to take advantage of your last hours as a bachelor.”

  A heaviness Silas had tried to ignore lifted from his shoulders. He had hoped to spend the evening with the Everlys, but Esther’s current regard for him had put aside that idea. He hated being alone in the Keep, though it was something he had tried hard to grow used to.

  When his parents had died in a boating accident, his paternal grandmother had dedicated herself to the task of rais
ing him; her austere manner never exactly eased the loneliness of his boyhood. Only his friends had done that for him. When she passed away, four years ago, Silas had no one to go home to anymore.

  Perhaps that was the thing he looked forward to the most about his marriage to Esther. The houses he lived in would no longer stand empty. Even if Esther felt less than charitable toward him, she would still occupy the Keep when he returned to it next. That thought filled him with a contentment he had not felt in years.

  Chapter Eight

  April 3rd, 1814

  Wearing a new gown of blue, with ivory lace at her throat, and a bonnet cheerfully adorned in sapphire ribbons and white flowers, Esther sat through the morning services wearing what she hoped to be a peaceful expression. She sat between Diana and the end of the pew, close to the aisle. On the other side of Diana sat Hugh, and their three eldest children. They were on the Fox family bench, which her brother had continued to reserve despite his absence. And at the front of the church, all alone, sat her bridegroom.

  She watched the back of Silas’s head through most of the service, noting he appeared to have had a fresh haircut. He wore a fine coat of forest green. The color would look well with his eyes.

  Guilt pricked at her heart at last. At least she had someone to sit beside, and had been surrounded by people since their betrothal. The Everlys, her stepbrother’s family. There was always someone at hand to talk to about her marriage, or to distract her from the fact she would soon be a countess.

  The sermon was not overlong. Mr. Spratt, the vicar, was getting on in years and preferred to be home in front of his fire rather than making lengthy moral speeches. The people gathered in the church were informed of the wedding, though most already knew all about it. Esther had caught a few snatches of conversation, in which a handful of matrons had postulated how exactly she came to be engaged to their earl.

  Hugh rose to escort her to the front of the church, standing in place of Isaac to give her away. If only Isaac were home. Being on his arm would make everything feel better.