Rescuing Lord Inglewood: A Regency Romance

by Sally Britton

  Mary nodded, tears appearing in her eyes. “Thank you, my lady. I didn’t know I meant as much to you.”

  “You do, Mary.” Esther meant every word she’d said to the sweet maid. She needed the young woman at her side, adrift as she was in an unfamiliar world. “You will grow into the position, as I must grow into mine.” Then she offered Mary a reassuring smile. “And just now, this countess wishes very much for a nap. I am quite tired from the day’s events.”

  “Yes, my lady. Let me help you.” The girl’s eyes darted once to the door between the earl and countess’s chambers, but she said nothing, and did not look again. Esther tried not to look, either.

  Once tucked between her sheets, the curtains drawn over the window, Esther attempted to find some measure of peace in oblivion. Unfortunately, Silas’s face appeared in her mind’s eye, looking as it had when he spoke his vows. At the time she had thought his expression strangely earnest. He had looked almost as though he were striving for something as he spoke, or yearning for his words to be true. There was more than duty and honor in his tone and language. There was something else. Something deeper.

  Perhaps hope.

  Esther rolled to her side, pulling a pillow to her chest. Hope for what?

  Her mind turned back to the vows she had spoken, as she had tried to simply get through the public ordeal of a wedding.

  …For better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish…

  Guilt pricked at her conscience, then her heart. The things she promised had not involved her coldness to Silas, her bidding him leave as soon as possible, or hiding from him for the few hours they might actually speak to one another about their joined lives. Of course, she could not see her promise to love coming to fruition any time soon. Love made her too vulnerable to pain when he left, as he inevitably would on the morrow, and likely many times in future.

  Suppressing a most unladylike desire to groan, Esther gave her pillow one last firm squeeze before crawling out of her bed. She gave a few yanks to the bell pull and then went searching for her clothing. She found it in her small dressing room and soon had an armful of her most comfortable underthings and a gown. They were not the fine things Diana had insisted she buy during her time in London. Comfort and familiarity were her priorities.

  The door opened and Mary came flying inside. “Is something wrong, my lady?” She looked from Esther to the bed with wide eyes.

  “I have decided I do not wish to nap,” Esther answered, thrusting her things at Mary. “Help me look presentable. Do you know where the earl is at the moment?”

  Mary, bless her, went to work without further hesitation. “His man said he went walking, toward the beach. We were just discussing how fine a day it was for such a jaunt.”

  “Perfect.” Esther helped as much as she could, twisting her slightly mussed hair up into a knot behind her head. “A straw bonnet, Mary. Something we just need a pin to secure.”

  In moments she had the bonnet, pin, and a spencer pulled over a suitable gown. She found a pair of flat-soled half boots, which were inelegant but perfect for walking across the sand. As a child, she had been permitted to occasionally walk the beach without shoes or stockings. A countess likely should not enjoy the same freedom.

  Leaving her room with speed, Esther tried not to concern herself with what the staff might think of their new mistress practically running through the house to get out the rear doors. She skipped across the wide terrace, down the steps into the gardens, and then hastily out the back gate to the beach. As soon as her booted feet hit the sand, she cast her eyes about for some indication of where Silas had gone, even looking down at the ground in case his were the only boot prints to be found. A fresh set of men’s tracks went to the south.

  Kicking up sand as she went, Esther held her bonnet to her head with one hand while the other kept her balance as she ran. She saw his figure, still in his elegant wedding clothes, some hundred yards or so ahead of her. He moved slowly enough she had hope of catching him.

  After she halved the distance between them, her lungs burning and her run most awkward as her feet sunk and slipped in the sand, she tried calling out to him. The rolling waves drowned out what sound she made. She halved the distance again, and she pulled in a deep breath to call his name, when he stopped and turned.

  Her gait slowed and she raised a hand to wave at him. Silas raised his hand as well, then started walking in her direction. Esther tried to catch her breath, watching his approach with some apprehension. Coming after Silas had been an impulse decision; something Diana always said would land Esther in a great deal of trouble. Diana had been right, of course, as Esther’s acting on a moment’s inspiration had led to a necessary marriage.

  “Esther,” he called, his voice carrying over the sound of wind and waves. “I thought you were resting.” From their closer distance she could see his eyebrows drawn down enough to make wrinkles appear on his forehead, and his mouth pressed into a straight line after speaking. Had she upset him? Perhaps she had intruded upon much needed solitude.

  “I couldn’t sleep,” she shouted to him, taking a few hesitant steps closer. “You are leaving tomorrow. It was wrong of me to waste the time with you.” She waited, body tense, for his response, perhaps a rejection.

  Silas came all the way to her before he spoke, his contemplative frown still in place. “I do not want you to tax yourself on my account. It has been a troublesome few weeks for both of us.” They stood almost toe to toe. “Though I will admit that your company is appreciated.”

  The knot in her chest loosened. “I am glad to hear it. If not somewhat surprised. I have not exactly been cordial in our limited time together.”

  He offered his arm to her and they started walking back the way she had come. For several long moments, neither said a word. Esther took the opportunity to breathe deeply of the briny air, enjoying the way the wind kicked up droplets of water just enough for her to taste the salt occasionally upon her lips. Her family’s home, Woodsbridge, was further inland, but she and her brother had regularly visited their friends near the sea. This place was more like home to her than London had ever been.

  “I remember we used to play on this beach for hours,” Silas said at last. “Running all along the shore, searching for crabs, digging pits for buried treasure, and chasing the waves back into the water.”

  Esther peered up at him, surprised. “I remember a little of that. My nurse always took me in when she thought I’d had too much sun. But you, Isaac, Jacob, and even the twins, would stay out for hours and hours. Isaac always had a sunburn.”

  “I suppose you were still small when we loved the beach the most.” He sounded almost sorry for that. But while five years did not seem like much distance at present, as children it had been an insurmountable gulf, keeping her far from the sport he made with friends nearer his age. “I do remember you being about more often than not, though.”

  “Maybe it only seemed that way because Isaac was forever telling me to stop being a bother.” She forced a smile, thinking on her brother. “Do you think he has learned of our marriage yet?”

  Silence fell between them again, and she looked out to the water, watching Silas from the corner of her eye. Without his marble mask in place, his expression was relaxed and his stare fixed on a point at the horizon.

  “I sent Isaac a letter the day of the picnic. I expect his response any day. It will likely come here.” He avoided looking at her, his attention focused on the waves lapping toward them. “I can only hope he approves of our course of action, that I am not a disappointment to him, but I did not see any other way out of our situation. You must believe me on that score, Esther.”

  She tilted her head to one side, pursing her lips in puzzlement. “You cannot be serious, truly. Isaac adores you. How could he ever look down upon our union? You are the best of friends and he will be grateful you looked out for me.” The words stung less than they had but days before. Esther’s fury over t
he situation had abated. “If he is disappointed in anyone, it will be in me.”

  “You think you ought to have let Hermes have his way with me?” Silas asked, his tone flat.

  Esther jerked to a stop and stared at him. “Of course not! I spoke of the brook incident. My temper—” She stopped talking when she caught the way his eyes crinkled at the corners. Was he biting the inside of his cheeks? “Oh, you horrible man. I see you have not outgrown your teasing.”

  He lifted one shoulder in a shrug and his smile slowly spread across his face. Oh, but he was handsomest when he smiled. His green eyes brightened, his whole demeanor changed, and she almost glimpsed the boy he had been. “You were always so easy to tease, and always surprised by it. Isaac certainly never gave you reason to expect it.”

  “Isaac saw himself as a protector, not a tormenter.” She tried to remain irritated with him, but another secret to Silas’s smiles were how infectious they were. “Which is why he will be terribly shocked by his sister’s behavior. He shall think I ought to have known better, with all the times he risked himself to keep me poised and proper.”

  “You miss him a great deal.”

  Esther looked away when the laughter in Silas’s expression was replaced by gentle concern. “He is all the family I have left. Hugh and Diana mean well, of course, but they must be relieved to no longer have to care for me. Hugh was so much older and already married when our parents wed. We have never been close. After Mother passed away, Isaac and I were quite alone.”

  “I hope you no longer feel that way,” Silas said, his voice almost too low to hear. “You are part of my family now, Esther.”

  She tried to smile. “Your family, Silas? But you haven’t anyone, either.”

  His arm stiffened beneath hers, then relaxed. “I supposed a second cousin poised to inherit my title does not count for much. What I meant—what I mean to say, Esther—” He stopped walking and she did as well, turning to peer up into his handsome face. He wore that expression from the church again. That earnest, hopeful look that tugged at her heart in a most alarming manner. “I hardly remember what it was like to have parents. My grandmother was not exactly affectionate. But I am—I am quite looking forward to being a husband and to the family that you and I will form together.”

  It was by no means an eloquent speech, yet she heard the truth in his words. Her heart rose and she nearly believed him.

  As much as she wished for harmony between them, however, she hesitated. Though he spoke with conviction he had treated her as no more than a responsibility. One he might be fond of and might even prove useful in providing an heir. But he felt nothing for her. He expected her to take orders. He would not even ask her to come with him to London, nor explain leaving her behind. She could not risk caring for him when he saw her as no more important than a prized pet.

  “This is a subject for when you return from London, I should think,” she said briskly, putting enough distance between them so that her hand barely rested upon his coat sleeve. They resumed their walk. “How long do you anticipate being away?”

  “Perhaps a fortnight, if nothing too exciting occurs on the Continent,” he answered slowly, the resolute tone from before replaced with solemnity. “If your brother’s letter arrives here before I do, you have my permission to read it.”

  How magnanimous. “Thank you.” Esther said nothing more personal for the remainder of the walk, though she attempted to be agreeable by pointing out boats upon the water and flowers growing near the sand. They were soon inside, and Silas did not try to engage her on personal matters again.

  Chapter Ten

  Whatever Silas expected from Esther, it had not been the vulnerability that by turns made her cry or her temper rise. He paced his room, quietly so as not to disturb his countess in the next room, attempting to puzzle her out.

  Her fluctuating moods reminded him of the sea itself, at times storming angrily and others times casting the lightest of mists upon the shore. Some might say the sea was unpredictable, but to one who studied it carefully, the patterns and warning signs of upheaval were easy to note. Already Silas thought he saw a pattern in his wife’s behavior. She stormed angrily when left out of making decisions, even if they were made with the best of intentions for her behalf. But her quieter, tearful moments had come on when she felt alone.

  Having spent most of his life alone, Silas did not fully understand the sentiment. Perhaps it had something to do with being a woman. A man alone might carry on very well, but a woman alone was exposed to all manner of hardship, danger, and an inability to control her destiny.

  As he dressed for dinner, their first together in his whole memory, Silas’s thoughts remained tangled in Esther’s conversation from the beach. They had almost spoken of important things, but she changed the topic to the inconsequential. Perhaps it was for the best, given that he must leave the next morning. There was no use in starting a weighty conversation that could have no follow-through for a fortnight.

  Although, he realized as his valet put a pin in his cravat, he could write to her. Words written on a page might be better received, and could not be interrupted. Yes, he would write to her. Every day, if possible. Letters might connect them in a way that would allow his return to be accepted, even anticipated, with greater pleasure and warmth.

  That decided, Silas left his room in a much happier frame of mind. Having a course of action always improved his mood. He turned toward the stairs and froze, seeing Esther there before him.

  She stood with one hand on the stair rail, half-turned in his direction, as though only just aware of his presence in the hall. The picture she made was elegance itself, and deserving of a portrait. Her light brown hair was piled atop her head, only small ringlets escaping a jeweled comb and blue satin ribbons. Amethysts dangled from her ears and coral beads circled her throat. The chandelier hanging above the stair illuminated her trim figure, the dark blue dress wrapping her in sophistication.

  “Am I too early?” she asked, her manner hesitant.

  Silas shook his head, unable to find his voice for a moment.

  Esther regarded him with a furrowed brow, obviously perplexed by his manner. “Shall we go down together?”

  “Yes. Of course.” He hurried forward and offered her his arm. “I do hope you passed a pleasant afternoon in your quarters.” She had left him after their walk ended in the gardens, to put her room and belongings to rights, she said.

  “Indeed. Yes. I even wrote to Isaac. I was hoping you could take the letter with you, since your connections are more certain about delivery than the common post.”

  “I would be happy to be your messenger, my lady,” he said, his lips turning upward when he used her title. The title he had bestowed upon her through their marriage.

  “Thank you.” Esther turned her attention to the parlor doors when they gained the first ground floor. “Our walk and the exertions of the day have left me more than a little peckish.”

  Silas chuckled. “I hope you enjoy the meal I arranged. From now on, it will fall to you to make and approve menus.”

  Her eyes sparkled up at him. “That is one duty I look forward to immensely. I cannot tell you how often I suffered through Diana’s menus, wishing for lamb instead of tripe, soup instead of eel, and fish rather than ham. And her desserts, while always delicious, were so rich that one could only take a bite or two before it was too much. It is a wonder that my stepbrother isn’t twice as wide a person, given he has eaten at her table for ten years.”

  “So long as you let me have my favorites occasionally, you have free reign in this house to serve whatever food you please.” He tried to sound gracious, like a king bestowing some great honor upon her, yet her answering smile was hesitant.

  He led her into the sitting room and saw her comfortably situated onto a plush chair near the fire. Then he took up his place with an elbow on the mantel. “Are you going to ask what my favorites are?” he asked, raising his eyebrows at her.

  Her expression be
came somewhat saucy. “I have the feeling you are going to say tripe, eel, and ham.”

  The laugh he loosed at her astute guess felt incredible, like a burst of fresh air after denying himself breath. When was the last time he had laughed? And how had Esther managed to make it happen? “You are on to me, my lady.”

  “My lord, you are far too predictable when it comes to your teasing. Your eyes always give you away.”

  “Do they?” Silas narrowed the offending orbs dramatically and turned to look into the mirror above the hearth. “You had best not warn my political opponents of that failing. I take pride in being unreadable, you know.”

  Esther sounded more thoughtful than amused as she spoke. “I have the feeling you do not tease your opponents in that arena. I have seen the drawings of you, Silas. And read about your speeches. You have a reputation for being rather unshakable and unknowable.”

  He met her gaze in the mirror, his countenance sobering. “There are times when a man’s thoughts ought to be well concealed. I have learned over the years that my position in Society gives people odd notions about what I can do for them. Many a supposed friend has only sought my influence, and several flattering females have been on the hunt for a wedding ring that might elevate them above their peers. It is difficult to tell an ally from an enemy when everyone says what they think I want to hear.”

  “You remain closed off,” she said, nodding slightly. “I understand that.”

  “Until I have determined a person’s motivation, yes.” He sighed deeply, about to run his hands through his hair before he remembered the pains taken by his valet to groom it that evening. He straightened his posture instead. “Here, at home, I like to think it is not necessary.”

  “I have noticed a general sort of relaxation in your manner today.” She offered him a less radiant smile, the laughter gone. He nearly asked what was wrong, why that displeased her, when the butler came in announcing dinner.

  There would be plenty of time to come to understand Esther. They were married, and that gave him a lifetime to study her.