by Ella Edon
She danced gracefully with her shoulders upright and her back straight. He held her hand with the tip of his index and thumb as he moved with her, as they turned around changing hands and sides. Her grace left him in awe. He was stunned. Despite being shy, her gracefulness was visually outward.
"You dance quite well."
"Thank you, Your Grace."
He smirked. Her voice was soft and gentle, like she was a babe and still cautious of what to say.
"By calling me “Your Grace,” you must know me, but I cannot say the same for you." He moved swiftly, his arm curling around her waist, pulling her close. He turned with her and watched as her cheeks flamed at their nearness.
"Your Grace..." she murmured.
Stefan let go of her as the dance came to an end. "Who are you, My Lady?"
She creased her brows. Her hands clasped together and her grey eyes stared at him curiously. He shook his head. "I don't know who you are. I would like to know —"
"Lady Esther Bowen of t Kendal, Your Grace." she curtsied while he bowed.
"Your father is the Earl of Kendal — that..." his eyes widened, “This is your ball. The ball is for you."
Lady Esther inclined her head. They were moving away from the dance floor, but all eyes were still on them. Stefan stared down at the delicate lady standing with him. Her lips were pressed in a thin line. Lips that he had kissed. Her long lashes moved as her eyes went downward.
He didn't know what was going on. He wasn't one to listen in on the gossip, but hell, he was curious about her. Her name was on the lips of so many.
"Why arrange a ball for you in the middle of the summer?"
Lady Esther shrugged. "Because I'm the only child and the Earl of Kendal may do as he pleases."
"Very well, and does the ball please you?"
"Of course, it does. It is for me."
Stefan watched as Lady Esther kept her gaze carefully away from him, somewhat cautious. He smiled. She definitely remembered what had happened days ago at the river. It was quite strange that they had shared that kiss, but he wanted to do it again. And maybe he would start by being a gentleman and apologizing. He cleared his throat, but as he was about to speak, she spoke up.
"You are coming to visit the children at the orphanage?"
He grinned. "Indeed."
"Because you feel is it your duty as Duke or because you want to help them?"
"Because I know that it is what's right. Those children deserve to be looked after. I see you like them as well, My Lady. You've given up your time to care for them."
She nodded. "The children need love. They need to know that someone cares."
"Of course."
"I only began to see you at the orphanage two days ago. I was quite surprised." Esther’s cheeks flamed as she mentioned the day that they had met for the first time.
"I hadn't known you had seen me at the orphanage. You were quite focused."
"I did see you." She clasped her hands together.
Stefan watched her.
"So...at the river...I —"
"Yes?"
She nodded and tilted her head sideways. "What happened at the river...was...not deliberate."
He almost laughed at how vulnerable she seemed, trying to bring up their kiss at the river. Seeing this as a great opportunity, he spoke first. "Why did you run off so suddenly then? You should have stayed back and told me this. You went running off, which made me think you enjoyed it quite well, My Lady."
She looked up with her eyes wide. Was she surprised that he remembered? Or was she shocked that he was teasing her?
"What were you doing there that day? Surely, you should have known that the rocky hill made the river low and that one could slip." He smirked, excited as her cheeks reddened. "And I remember saving you, and I got no appreciation for my effort now did I? Lady Esther?"
He liked seeing her so unsettled, flustered. He went on. "You look beautiful, Lady Esther. A walk in the garden, perhaps?"
Her eyes widened. Stefan wondered what she was thinking, but he could indeed guess. She shook her head. "I'm afraid I'll have to decline your offer, Your Grace."
"Of course, you would."
"Thank you for saving me, Your Grace. It was an honest accident. I was not trying to have myself killed," Lady Esther clarified, not looking into his eyes. It was as though she had imagined that he thought she had been trying to end her own life. He cocked his head to the side, wondering why she would think that.
From what he had seen through the night, with men trying to get close to Lady Esther, meanwhile she was obviously ignoring them, he could tell she was not betrothed to anyone. Neither did she seem to be quite eager, as she never gave anyone a chance to talk to her. But she looked sad. He had never seen her smile truly through the night. Something bothered her. Also, she didn't seem free with him. Spinsters who were open for suitors didn't behave so uptight. Merely looking at her, he could tell that she wanted to be anywhere but there.
"Is there a problem, Lady Esther?"
She blinked, but not fast enough as he saw her glistening eyes.
"Your Grace, I would very much like to be excused as I have guests to attend to."
He stepped closer, knowing fully well that she was looking for a means of escape, and he tried pulling her closer. She moved back instantly, not allowing herself to get too close. With one nod and a barely audible mutter, Lady Esther walked into the crowd. He could still see her. Only he didn't run after her. He wouldn't, not until he knew her well enough, not until he knew about her, just like she knew about him. But that would have to wait. He had an appointment with Claude Guerrero.
* * *
After Claude rolled off him, he lay still, staring at nothing but thinking about Lady Esther. She had clouded his thoughts all night, and he was sure she would continue to do so for the rest of the night and the approaching morning.
He sat up, slipped into his breeches, then his boots. Once he had these on, he stood up. Claude sat on the bed, both her arms were pressing into the mattress, her bosom was left bare, like she was showing them off, trying to call him back into bed.
He shook his head. "I have to go, Claude. Next time when you're in London, send me a message."
She tossed her red hair, hair that looked like flames, aside. "I most certainly will, Monsieur."
Her accent, the dripping French, lingering in every word, had always made her so attractive. But not today. This time all he saw was Lady Esther. He needed to be home.
He moved back, slipped into his cotton white shirt, took his coat from the settee, and with just a nod, he left the room. As he stepped out of the entrance of her little home, his footman, Richard, greeted him with a toothy smile. "Your Grace."
Stefan barely nodded as he stepped into the night and swiftly swung into his carriage. "Take me home, Richard."
Richard nodded again, his smile still on. "As you wish, Your Grace."
As Richard drove into the night, Stefan relaxed in the carriage. He rubbed at his temples and recognized just how exhausted he was. He needed to get home. Despite his blunt insistence on not getting married, he didn't want to openly disrespect his mother by staying out too late or not sleeping at Sands Castle. That would mean he was outright disobeying her. He didn't want that.
The wheels rolled to a halt and Stefan looked out, only to see that they had arrived at Sands Castle. He alighted the carriage and walked to the door. He pushed the double French threshold open and stepped in. The butler, Alfred, walked out of the salon, and on seeing him he bowed. "Your Grace. Thank the heavens! You’ve returned. The Dowager would like to see you."
Stefan nodded once and headed towards the salon. He stepped in with his hands stuck in the pocket of his breeches. The Duchess sat on the lone chair beside the hearth, rocking back and forth whilst knitting. The house seemed very quiet. Perhaps his siblings had gone to sleep. He took a seat and rested his elbows on his thigh. "Mother, you've sent for me."
The Dowager Duchess did
n't look up, she simply nodded. "You attended the ball."
He inclined his head. "I promised that I would."
"Did you see any good maidens? One who would make a good duchess?"
"Mother, we've discussed this."
"We have, indeed. Which is why I'm asking if you have seen any."
"No, mother. And I don't think I will be seeing anyone fit to be the Duchess of York anytime soon."
The duchess chuckled, then she looked up. "If you say so. Your siblings have been put to bed. You could kiss Robert goodnight before you go to bed as well. He had wanted to see you."
Stefan smiled. He knew why Robert wanted to see him before he went to bed. In the early months after their father's death, Robert had mistaken him for their papa. And he had wanted him to read him books to bed, just like their papa used to do. Stefan, however, didn't like to read books or poems, unlike his papa. But he made sure to stay beside Robert while he slept.
"You look so much like my Robert," his mother murmured.
He knew she didn't know that he heard her muttered remark, so he simply stared in silence. He thought Robert looked more like their papa, and that was why he had been named after him.
"Agnes would —"
"Goodnight Mama." He stood up abruptly. His mother's gaze snapped to him. With clenched jaws, he strode out of the room. They could talk about papa, but not her. No, not her.
* * *
He knew that a visit to the orphanage meant he would see Lady Esther again. She was once again sharing something with the little children. Lady Kinross had told him the specific days which Esther came to the orphanage.
"Since Lord Milway broke off the engagement, the lady has drowned herself with work here. She is happy while she is with the children. Happy to help the young lads and lasses. But I see her sorrow. Every time I look into her eyes, I see her sorrow," Lady Kinross had said.
"Lord Milway? The lady was engaged to be wed?"
Lady Kinross had blinked. Knowing that she had said too much, she rushed away. But he knew where to get good town talk, which was why he had paid Yvette — a talkative prostitute, who wanted money for anything, even her gossips. She knew all. Yvette had been of no great help, however. She had simply said Lord Milway announced their separation because they were not compatible, and that it had been of mutual agreement.
But he felt there was more to the story.
"The lady fled the ballroom, I tell ye. She fled just before the gentleman emerged and announced to all that the engagement was off. But he looked pleased about this, I tell ye. And the lady hid from public events for a long time, and I think the ball the other night was like a re-debutante. She was looking for another suitor," Yvette had said, before downing the cup of beer. And her mouth began moving again, not only from talking but from the bread she left on the table. He couldn't believe what he had done, approached the whorehouse just to get gossip. As he had relaxed into the wooden chair and watched Yvette demand more money before she spoke again, he realized how absurd his actions were. But perhaps they were worth it. Because now, as he stood watching Lady Esther feed the little ones, he knew that his curiosity was not entirely satisfied.
"And bread for Alanah," She placed one loaf of bread on the child's plate and smiled at her. The little girl gazed hungrily at the roll, but smiled back and replied with a hearty, toothless “Thank you.”
Puffing a breath, he stood by, watching her. A little girl said something to her, and it made Esther smile a little, then cast her lashes down. She always did that. Like she was afraid to look anyone in the eyes. She was quiet, too; she didn't talk much. She didn’t laugh very much. Only a little smile now and again. He wondered if Lord Milway has done this or if it was merely part of her demeanor.
He was so curious about her that it irked him. Why was he so interested in knowing about her?
"Lord Milway was her childhood friend. They had been betrothed almost since birth." Yvette had added. When he snapped his gaze to her, she shrugged. "'Tis what I've heard, Your Grace."
Just like Agnes. He swallowed as everything came rushing back. She was just like Agnes. And all over again, he was a teenager and his life was rushing before him. He needed to save her from herself.
Lady Esther wore a blue muslin and beneath he could see the glittering black shoes. As she walked aside gradually, with grace and uncertainty, he felt the need to pull her away, so he could tell her that he knew. He wanted her to see that he knew her.
He stared on. When she looked up, Esther’s eyes didn't meet his, but she had seen him — seen him watching her. He watched as she whirled around and went the other way, talking to more children and giving them something. He clenched his jaws for a minute before finally smiling.
He wondered if she avoided him because of the kiss they had shared or because she had heard things about him. He wouldn't be surprised if she were told he was bad news.
"Your Grace, you sent for physicians, and they have arrived," Lady Kinross whispered behind him.
He turned abruptly, a small smile still on his face. Behind Lady Kinross was Antoine, the French physician who lived at the border between Somerset and York. Stefan bowed. The man spoke in French, grinning, but caught himself soon enough.
"Pardon me, Your Grace." He smiled.
Stefan nodded quickly, eager to get back to watching Lady Esther.
"Lady Kinross will take you to the ill children." His face softened. "I want to be assured that they will get better. They've caught the flu and have been separated from the rest of the children so they all wouldn't fall ill."
"I understand, I'll do my very best."
"You have no assistant? There are about a dozen children in there. "
"My assistant is away."
Stefan was taken aback. "I want the children to receive adequate treatment and proper care. You need to request your assistant to attend you. I don't believe that you alone can care for them."
"I'll have to start while I send word."
"The sisters have offered to help. The sisters from the convent. As well as Lady Esther —"
Stefan interrupted Lady Kinross immediately. "No, the lady will not go in there. She is no physician."
"As an assistant simply. She has insisted on this."
"Well, I refuse that she goes in there. I want the physician and the sisters. They have experience with illnesses and can handle it. A lady of noble birth would not know what to do." No way was he letting her go in there. Aside from the fact that she lacked experience, he worried that she would catch the croup as well — which would happen due to her lack of experience with ill patients.
"And how, Your Grace, would you know if the lady has experience? She's been here for quite some time. The children have become attached to her. She could reassure the little ones who are so sick. Experience isn't what matters here. It's to show the children that they matter." Lady Kinross ducked her head and apologized. “I’m sorry, Your Grace, for being so bold. Please forgive me.”
Stefan was still shaking his head lightly, but it dawned on him that he was imposing on Esther’s life. He barely knew her. Why then did he feel the need to keep her...safe? He clenched his jaws, sucked in a breath, and took a step back.
Lady Kinross observed him, her brows creased.
He barely said another word before he excused himself. What was wrong with him? All he needed to do was talk to the lady and tell her to snap out of it. All he needed to do was to make sure she wasn’t going to try anything foolish. The moment he saved her from herself, he would stay away from her.
* * *
He decided to stay at the orphanage all day because Lady Esther had stayed all day. She did help the children with the croup. He had seen her console a little boy with a soft hum. He had watched her move around gracefully to make sure all was well. And when all the children were put to bed, he observed as the sadness overcame her again. The small glow of happiness she had when around the children wholly dissipated.
"Good Night, Lady Esther
."
"Goodnight, Augusta." He watched her kiss the child and the moment Augusta closed her eyes, he watched her smile die. He watched as her eyes glistened as she stared at the child, as though hoping that she would open her eyes and talk to her, give her a reason to smile.
She was sad, and her escape was the orphanage. Nothing more. Stefan wanted to know how much Lord Milway had hurt her. Clearly, it was enough to make her wallow in self-pity. He snorted. “Love was nothing. And how could one man make her feel so sad in the name of love? How could she let herself get hurt in the name of it?” he whispered.