by Ruby Hill
It was to her shame that she admitted the man was attractive. She remembered the evening when they planned the dinner. He had shown her a great kindness by allowing her to sit and rest her weary legs, even though she was a servant in his household. Then at their last meeting, the sun had shone directly through the window and around the Duke of Hawdon, clothing him in an almost ethereal light. His hair, which she had thought of as merely brown, became a mixture of tones and shades, and his eyes had been bright like the sky. The sudden rush of her heart had been a reaction to his handsome features, and despite her knowledge that society called him a rake, she had found herself lost in his mesmerizing hazel pools. He had grinned at her lazily, and she'd dropped her eyes at once, hating the chills that crept up her skin as she realized she'd been staring at him. It had been a particularly awkward moment.
“Ah, Mrs. Edwards!”
“Your Grace,” Esther replied, butterflies dancing in her stomach as she dealt harshly with the rush of attraction towards him. Putting it to death, she bobbed a curtsy. “What can I do for you?”
“Nothing, particularly,” Amos replied, appreciating how her gentle nature intensified her beauty. “I am wondering if everything is in place for tonight?”
“Yes, of course, Your Grace,” she replied, keeping her eyes on his feet. “Everything is ready. The dinner will run smoothly; I assure you.”
“I am glad to hear it. I expect the guests to be arriving six o’clock, and we shall sit to dine at seven o’clock precisely.”
“Very well, Your Grace,” Esther replied, demurely. “I will ensure everything is ready before six o’clock.”
"Thank you," he replied, his voice becoming a little softer. He paused for a moment before continuing. "How are you settling in, Mrs. Edwards?"
She glanced at him, a little taken aback. "Very well, Your Grace. I thank you."
"I am glad to hear it," he replied, his eyes caressing her face. "I should hate to lose you. You are doing such an excellent job."
"Thank you," she said, lowering her gaze to the floor. To her astonishment, she felt his fingers tip up her chin.
"Don't be afraid to look at me," he said, quietly, a slight smile on his face. "I enjoy seeing your smile."
Esther was unable to speak. His hand was strong, but gentle, and the hammering in her chest became almost painful. Raising her eyes, her breath hitched as she took in his tender look and the lightness of his eyes as he gazed at her. A sudden sound of footsteps broke the spell, and Amos moved back from her, a slightly frustrated look on his face.
"Thank you, Mrs. Edwards," he muttered, dropping his gaze. He began to move on, walking past her down the hallway before spinning around. "I quite forgot. Lady Heber will be joining us for dinner. I am sure you will wish to thank her for her recommendation, so I shall arrange for you to see her at some point in the evening."
The panic that swirled through her veins caused Esther nearly to blurt out that she could not possibly do such a thing, holding herself back by sheer force of will. “Thank you,” she replied, keeping her tone light. “I would be most grateful, Your Grace.”
Nodding, the Duke continued down the hallway, leaving Esther breathing hard and eventually leaning heavily against a beautiful marble piece. The cool alabaster helped calm her senses, and she eventually was able to walk back to the kitchen. There was simply nothing she could do. She just had to hope that her godmother could find a way to prevent Esther from having to go above stairs. Touching her chin where the Duke had placed his fingers, she smiled to herself a little dreamily. As much as she tried to prevent it, he was making his way into her heart.
* * *
“Lady Heber, how glad I am to see you. How are you feeling?” Amos bowed, kissing her hand.
“Thank you, Duke. I am quite well,” she replied, looking around at the assembled guests. “I believe we are in for quite a feast tonight!”
“Indeed,” he replied. “The cook has been hard at work.”
Agnes smiled. “Bernard tells me that the new housekeeper is doing very well. I am so very glad.”
“She is excellent, I must confess. She will wish to thank you, I am sure. I shall have her sent up to speak to you, if you would like?”
“Oh no, Duke!” Lady Heber laughed, patting his arm and trying her best to remain offhand. “The poor woman will be frightened out of her wits coming to speak to me in front of all your other guests. I shall go to see her myself, once dinner is over.”
Amos frowned. “You will go downstairs? To the servants’ quarters?”
She shook her head at him, a tiny smile on her lips. “I am not as arrogant as you might think, Your Grace. I have no concern about going below stairs. Now, shall we go through?” Trying to quickly change the subject, Agnes took his arm and, together, they walked through to the dining room.
* * *
“She has run off; I am certain of it!”
Agnes refrained from rolling her eyes, however much she wanted to. Lord Bertram had been going on about his missing daughter for quite some time, and she wished he’d change the subject. The other guests, however, were all agog, asking more questions.
“Has she eloped?” one asked.
"Come now!" Lord Bertram laughed. "That girl has neither beauty nor brains. She had not one single suitor!"
Agnes felt herself grow angry, twisting her hands in her lap as she kept her expression empty.
"No one would have eloped with her," he continued, before taking a long slurp of his wine. "That is why I encouraged her to engage her affections to Lord Thompson."
“Lord Thompson!” one of the ladies gasped. “He is so much…older than she!”
Lord Bertram shrugged. “It was not as if my daughter had any other offers, my dear Lady Johnstone. I would have seen her settled and happy.” He put a hand on his heart, as though he was quite distraught over her disappearance. “I feel something terrible must have happened to her. I cannot for one moment think why she would hide from me.”
"I can," Agnes muttered before she could stop herself. She closed her eyes for a moment, praying that no one had heard her unguarded words, but her prayers were not to be answered.
“What do you mean, Lady Heber?” Lady Johnstone asked, her face alive with interest. “You are her godmother after all, are you not? You must know why she has run away.”
Agnes groaned inwardly, hating that she had to now feed the gossip mill. Lady Johnstone was known for gossiping, and anything Agnes now said was sure to be passed around the drawing rooms of other respectable ladies by morning. “I have no idea why the girl would disappear,” she replied, coolly. “Although, of course, we are all very concerned that she is missing.”
“Of course,” Lord Bertram boomed, attempting to capture everyone’s attention once more. “Nothing would make me happier than her safe return.”
“She will be quite ruined, of course,” another gentleman remarked. Mutterings of agreement rippled around the table, and Agnes felt her anger begin to rise.
“None of that matters to me or to Lord Thompson,” Lord Bertram continued, his words silencing the crowd. “All we want is her to return home safely so that she can wed Lord Thompson, just as was arranged.”
“You mean, the man will still have her?”
“Of course,” came the reply. “The man is quite in love with her, I am sure. Since there is no possibility of elopement, we have concluded that she is simply hiding somewhere and that there will be no stain on her reputation.”
Agnes’s eyes flashed. Lord Thompson was still waiting to marry Esther? She couldn’t believe it. “What has the man got over you, Francis?” she asked, loudly, glaring at Lord Bertram.
Complete and utter silence filled the room.
“I beg your pardon, Lady Heber?”
“I said,” she replied, her voice deadly. “What has Lord Thompson got over you that you would so willingly sell your daughter to him?”
Bernard stared at his mother, aghast. Getting to his feet, he tried to
mumble an excuse for her behavior, but she cut him off with a swipe of her hand. Shamefaced, he sat back down, dreading what his mother was going to say next.
“The man has nothing on me,” Lord Bertram blustered, his face reddening. “He loves my daughter; that is all.”
“Codswallop,” Agnes replied, stoutly, inciting a gasp from the other guests. “You know that is not true, and so do I. You must have lost a great deal of money to him, Francis, and it should be you who deals with the consequence of that, not your daughter.”
“You speak too freely, Lady Heber,” Lord Bertram seethed, rising to his feet.
She shook her head, the anger continuing to pulse through her veins. “You are a selfish, low-down, greedy man who has pushed his daughter to the very brink, so the only choice she has is to run away! You would have coerced her to marry Lord Thompson, despite him being the same in years as you, and she would have obeyed eventually because, despite everything, she still loves you. For what it is worth, Francis, I am glad the girl had enough sense to leave you, despite what it might do to her reputation. I can only hope she can stay well enough hidden so that you will never find her!”
Her voice rising to a roar, Agnes thumped the table with her fist before dramatically leaving the room. The entire room stayed silent only for a moment before it rose to a hubbub of frantic conversations and excited whispers. Only Amos stayed silent, a thoughtful expression on his face as he gazed at the door that Agnes closed as she left.
8
Ignoring the surprise of the servants, Agnes made her way down the back stairs, rage practically billowing from her as she walked. “The audacity of the man,” she seethed under her breath. Her love for her goddaughter filled her with a protective rage, and the news that Lord Thompson still expected a betrothal to Esther was quite shocking.
Esther was busy overseeing the last of the dishes, thankful that soon her responsibilities of the evening would be over. A lot of tidying up had to be done and many dishes needed washing, but that was not within the housekeeper's duties. Leaving the kitchen, she almost walked straight into Lady Heber.
“Godmother!” Esther gasped, grasping Agnes’s hands. “How glad I am to see you!”
Agnes squeezed Esther’s hands, but whispered to her, “Not here, my dear. Any of the servants may spot us at any moment, and I am quite sure they are already wondering why I am downstairs. Have you a room?”
Esther nodded. "This way." She and Agnes walked quickly into Esther's private parlor, set apart for both her personal and business use. Closing the door, she and Agnes embraced.
“I have been so worried about you,” Agnes exclaimed.
“I am quite well, Godmother, but I am so glad to see you,” Esther began, hugging her tightly. “I have been so anxious this evening. My father being among the guests has rattled my nerves. I keep expecting him to march in here and demand my return home.”
Agnes let out a small laugh. “My dear, you have nothing to fear, I assure you. Your father will certainly not be making his way downstairs any time soon. I assured His Grace that I would come and speak to you myself, so that you would not have to make an appearance in front of the other guests.”
Moving to sit in a chair, Agnes settled back with a sigh, her soul happy as she saw her goddaughter was truly safe and well.
“Some tea, Godmother?”
“Please,” Agnes replied, her anger blowing away like the steam that rose from the teapot. “I am afraid I said some harsh words to your father.”
“In front of the guests?” Esther exclaimed, turning wide eyes onto her godmother. “Surely, you didn’t!"
Agnes smiled a little contritely. “I’m afraid so, Esther. You are well aware of my outspoken nature, and I could not let the things that loathsome man was saying pass without censure.” She glanced at Esther, her face a little remorseful. “I am sorry, my dear. I know you love your father still, but I must confess, I find his treatment of you utterly dreadful.”
Esther shook her head, pouring the tea. “Is he very angry?”
“He is,” Agnes replied, frankly. “But he insists that, even when you are found, you will marry Lord Thompson.”
Esther’s face went white with shock, and she sat down heavily, barely managing to hold onto her steaming cup of tea. “What?” she breathed.
Agnes set her mouth in a thin line. “I am sorry to tell you this, Esther, but the man is insistent, it seems.”
With a shaking hand, Esther placed her cup of tea and saucer onto the small table to her left. She didn't know what to think, her whole body trembling at the thought.
"It has taken so much for me to leave him behind, and it has been for naught?" she whispered, panic clawing at her throat. "No matter what I do, Lord Thompson is always going to be waiting for me."
Agnes moved to sit next to her goddaughter, flinging a comforting arm around her shoulders. "It will not come to that, Esther. We will find a way out."
Esther let out a harsh laugh. “There is no way out. The only thing I can do is hide until… until Lord Thompson dies!” She covered her hands with her face. “Who knows how long that will be?” Her voice was muffled as she took in great heaving breaths, forcing the tears back down.
Agnes rubbed Esther’s back in small, comforting circles. For once in her life, Agnes did not know what to say. They had both thought that as soon as it became clear that Esther had run away, the stain on her reputation would be enough to send Lord Thompson far from her. Neither of them had ever considered the possibility that the man would still be chasing a betrothal to Esther.
“Whatever shall I do?” Esther asked, dropping her hands down to her lap, the tears she had been holding back no longer at bay.
"I don't know," Agnes confessed. "But we shall think of something. For the time being, you can remain here and continue doing a marvelous job of running the estate."
Esther sniffed. "He seems to be a very good man. Is he pleased with me?"
"Of course he is!" her godmother exclaimed, patting her hand. "You needn’t have any worries on that account." Getting to her feet, she smoothed her skirt and took a breath. "Well, I must be getting back. Although I shall not apologize to your father, I must ensure that I appear contrite over my harsh words."
A glimmer of a smile appeared on Esther’s face as she stood up, embracing her godmother once more. “Thank you for everything you’ve done for me,” she said, truly grateful. “I know we can find a way out of this.”
“Of course we will,” Agnes replied, patting her back. Moving towards the door, she laughed as a sudden idea hit her. “Perhaps Bernard can be persuaded to marry you.”
“I do not think she is quite his type,” a voice said, as the door swung open to reveal the stern face of the Duke of Hawdon.
9
“Your Grace!” Esther gasped, executing a clumsy curtsy, not sure where to look. Her heart seemed to stop completely in her chest before catching itself and beginning to tear out a frantic beat.
Agnes collected herself almost at once. "Duke!" she cried, immediately feigning ignorance. "Whatever can you mean?"
Amos said nothing, walking into the room and carefully shutting the door behind him. Without a word, he turned and faced the two ladies, seeing the carefully executed blank expression on the Lady Heber’s face and the milk-white face of his housekeeper.
“Tell me the truth,” he began, quietly, his gaze fierce as he turned to Agnes. “This…” he gestured to Esther, “…is the Lord Bertram’s daughter?”
Agnes did not know what to say, looking helplessly at Esther, who was staring at Amos with a tortured look. Closing her eyes briefly, she let out a long breath and nodded.
Amos exploded.
“How dare you do this to me, Lady Heber? I am harboring a runaway daughter whose father is currently a guest at my dinner table? Are you aware of what dangers you have put her in, and me as well? If she is discovered, what do you expect me to do? Marry her? Both of our reputations will be ruined!”
“I—” Esther began, trying to tell him that she did not ever intend to force him into marriage, but Amos did not even look in her direction.
“I cannot believe that you would deceive me in such a manner! Even with the difficulties the girl is in, why did you not simply speak to me? I am sure that, together, we could all have come up with a reasonable solution to help your goddaughter.” He flung a look at Esther, seeing her tremble, but his heart did not care. He was too angry to care about anything.
Agnes drew herself up as tall as she could. “Duke,” she commanded, gazing at him severely. “That is quite enough.”
“Don’t you dare—” Amos began, his voice growing louder, but Agnes was not to be interrupted.
"I said, that is quite enough," she repeated, talking to him as though he were a small boy. "Now, you will return to your guests and spend the remainder of the evening being your usual charming and amiable self." She held up a hand to put a stop to the diatribe about to fall from his lips. "Esther, Bernard and I will meet you in the drawing room once all your guests have left, and we will talk all of this through then." She did not even wait for a response from him, opening the parlor door and waiting for him to walk out.
Amos was inwardly seething, but, for some reason, found himself walking out of the parlor door and up the back stairs. Agnes was right; he was too angry to listen to anything either of them had to say. He hated the thought of returning to his guests and making idle conversation with them when he had an important situation to deal with, but he had no choice. Plastering a smile on his face, he returned to the drawing room where the rest of the gentlemen had only just returned to join the ladies, having enjoyed their port and cheroots.
Lord Bertram, Esther’s father, had obviously been drinking in excess; his red cheeks and nose were an outward indication of too much liquor. He was speaking far too freely, his laugh loud and abrasive. Despite all that, Amos found his way over to the man, managing to pull him into their own private conversation.