Cinderella and the Surgeon

by Scarlet Wilson

  Esther tried not to let out a squeal. They were roughly the same size so she knew it would fit fine.

  Perfect. Now she knew she had something to wear she just had to worry about everything else. Like how it would feel to be Cinderella at the ball...

  * * *

  Harry wasn’t quite sure he was playing this right. And those thoughts were strange to him, because he’d never really been in a relationship where he’d worried about things like that.

  The issue was, the whole hospital assumed that he and Esther were a ‘thing.’ And to be honest, that didn’t bother him at all. Because he was only passing through.

  Sure, he’d heard all the things about not mixing business with pleasure. But over the years he’d known lots of colleagues who’d had relationships with workmates. Some good, some bad.

  As soon as he’d received that invitation he’d thought immediately about Esther. He’d driven over to her house, stuck a little note on it and put it through her door. She’d smiled at him the next day in NICU and said she’d be glad to come.

  And that had been the point he’d realised he hadn’t really been thinking about Esther. He hadn’t thought that going to a charity ball with him might mean turning down an extra shift she could do, or that she would have to conjure up something suitable to wear. Part of him had wanted to go back and offer to buy her something. But somehow he knew Esther would find that completely insulting.

  So, here he was, sitting outside her door, waiting to pick her up. He pulled at the sleeves of his jacket as he stepped outside the car and walked down the dark steps to her front door. She opened it on the first knock, a broad smile across her face.

  A scent of orange blossom floated towards him and he wasn’t quite sure if it was coming from her, or the flat.

  The room behind her was compact but immaculate. There was a large squishy red sofa, with a coffee table in front, perched on a colourful rug. The floor was the laminate that lots of people had now, and in the back of the room he could see a neat white kitchen.

  Photos were everywhere. Adorning her mantelpiece, walls and tables. All of family, and even from here he could see that most of the photos had people with their arms wrapped around each other, laughing.

  Something twisted deep inside. He couldn’t ever recall a moment in his life where he’d been at an event with his parents that resembled anything like this. The moment, the warmth, the adoration.

  Never. His life had never replicated anything like that. For a split second all he could feel was envy. Envy for her simpler, and yet immensely fuller, life. He pushed those thoughts away.

  His eyes went automatically back to Esther. ‘Wow,’ was the only word he could form.

  She was wearing a long navy gown. The shoulders and cap sleeves of the dress were part-sheer, with sequins scattered across the top, then the middle was ruched, emphasizing her waist, then the sheer navy fabric fell in layers to the floor, making a light swishing sound whenever she moved. Her dark hair was piled on top of her head with a few tendrils escaping at the sides, accentuating her sparkling blue eyes, which were fixed directly on him. The effect was dazzling.

  Esther beamed. Literally beamed—it was like a glow was coming off her. One that she clearly didn’t see herself.

  ‘Wow yourself,’ she said lightly. ‘It’s not every day I see you in a tux.’

  He paused for a few seconds, taking in the full view of her.

  Hospitals were odd places. He saw the same faces in virtually the same clothes. There were so many other things going on there that it frequently didn’t give anyone time to stop and really look at the people around them.

  Now he could see it all. The shine of her hair, the bounce, even though it was tied up in some elaborate way on her head. The swoosh of her long skirts. The cinch of the fabric on her curves. He was looking at her with new eyes, just like the way she was looking at him.

  He tugged at his collar, instantly self-conscious. ‘I definitely don’t wear this every day. But today is a special occasion.’

  ‘Yeah, it is,’ she whispered. His mouth was dry. For a second he wanted the world to stop. He wanted to stay and look at Esther the way she was looking at him. He wanted to forget about the ball. And forget about anything else. He wanted to close the door behind them and kiss her right now.

  There was something about being in her company. Tonight was about tradition. About being a duke. Nothing in his life to do with his title had ever felt like fun. But tonight, going to the ball with Esther, was the first time he’d actually really, really looked forward to doing something. After a shaky start, she was beginning to become that person for him. The one he actually enjoyed spending time with. This part of his life—the duke stuff—had always been separate. His stomach coiled for him in an unusual way. She didn’t even know it, but she was opening up other doors in his mind. Places that had been closed for so long.

  Esther blinked. Breaking the spell he was casting in his head.

  She gave a thoughtful nod as he gestured to the stairs. ‘‘Ready to go? Your carriage awaits.’

  They were in the car a few minutes later, crossing London towards Eglinton Hall.

  ‘Tell me about Lord and Lady Brackenridge,’ she said as she settled into the seat, ‘and tell me more about this charity ball.’

  Harry gave a nod. It was only fair that he gave her some background to the event they were about to attend. It was one of the few things he’d continued to go to since the death of his father.

  ‘I’ve known them since I was a child. Their two daughters are just a few years younger than me. They had a son—Gavin—who died from neuroblastoma when we were all teenagers. It’s still rare, but even less was known about it then. They had their first charity ball a few years after Gavin died. They choose a different children’s charity to support every year, and I’ve always gone along.’ He paused, taking a breath for a moment. ‘Originally the invite was for my parents, but for the last ten years it’s come to me.’

  ‘You don’t have any siblings?’

  Harry shook his head. ‘Nope. Just me. I think I was enough of an inconvenience to them.’

  Esther’s head spun around in surprise. ‘What do you mean by that?’

  He bristled, not quite sure how to answer the question. But it was his own fault. He shouldn’t have made that comment.

  But it was too late. There was no point lying about it. ‘I don’t think they were really the parenting type.’

  He could tell that Esther found that statement surprising. ‘Why’s that?’ she asked.

  He gave a shrug. ‘It was probably more of a duty thing.’

  There was a few moments’ silence. ‘Okay, I have to admit, I don’t get it. What do you mean?’

  He snaked his way through the traffic, his hands gripping the steering wheel probably a lot harder than he needed to. ‘Duty,’ he sighed. ‘The duke title is inherited—passed down to the male heir. I’m quite sure they had me to ensure the title passed on.’

  From the corner of his eye he could see Esther wrinkling her nose. ‘But what if they’d had a girl?’

  He let out a low laugh. ‘She probably would have been treated as if she was worthless and they would have kept trying for a boy. Thankfully for everyone, that didn’t happen. My mother only had to go through a pregnancy once, and when I was born she made it very clear to everyone she had no intention of ever doing it again.’

  ‘Wow,’ said Esther softly. ‘It sounds kind of medieval.’

  Harry nodded. ‘Yeah, that’s about the size of it. Children should be seen and not heard was very much the mantra in my family. I had a nanny until I was five. Then I spent the rest of my time at boarding school—often during the holidays too—and then at university.’

  Esther’s head shook. ‘I just can’t imagine a life like that.’ Then her hand shot up to her mouth as she realised how that might s
ound. ‘Oh no, I—’

  He stopped her by putting his hand on her leg. ‘It’s fine, Esther. It is what it is. I had a roof over my head, food in my stomach at all times. I know plenty of kids who had a far worse upbringing than me. These people tonight, Lord and Lady Brackenridge? They were probably the only adults I met who showed any warmth towards me.’ He pulled a face. ‘Of course, I didn’t realise at the time they were trying to match me to one of their daughters.’

  Esther let out a gasp. ‘This is like a blooming TV show.’

  He shot her a glance. ‘Yeah, but am I the hero, or the villain?’

  Her hand threaded over the top of his, which was still on her leg. ‘Oh, I think we can safely say you’re the hero.’ Her eyes glinted. ‘But I’ll let you know if you slip.’

  He couldn’t help but laugh. ‘Don’t worry. These people are actually fine. They realised pretty quickly that I wasn’t a good match for either Penelope or Priscilla.’

  ‘Penelope and Priscilla? That’s really their names?’ He could hear the disbelief in her voice.

  ‘Oh yes. That’s their names. They used to be part of a larger group of friends but I haven’t seen either of them in a while. Priscilla is a barrister and last I heard she was dating some millionaire businessman. Penelope has had three engagements—maybe four—each ring bigger than the last. I think she’s dating some actor now.’

  Esther looked a little stunned. ‘Hmm, how the other half lives,’ she said quietly.

  All of a sudden he realised she might be a bit intimidated by all this. He squeezed her thigh. ‘Don’t worry,’ he said. ‘Tonight should be fun.’ He wasn’t sure if he was trying to reassure her, or himself.

  ‘Hmm...’ Esther fixed her eyes on the view outside. He could tell she was thinking. Had he read all this wrong?

  He’d wanted to take her out. He’d wanted to take her somewhere special. Of course he did. And this invitation had given him the perfect excuse. Didn’t people like balls?

  The girl he’d first met as a crabby midwife was sitting next to him looking like perfection, but he could see her knotting her hands in her lap. He hadn’t meant to make her uncomfortable. Or maybe it wasn’t the ball. Maybe it was the fact he’d just revealed a bit more about himself and his difficult relationship with his parents. He knew that she adored her mother, and maybe she hadn’t liked the fact he’d been so up front about how things had been totally different in his household.

  He’d tried his best to forget about that part of his life. His heritage was always there. The title a daily reminder. But Harry actively chose not to use it on a regular basis. He introduced himself to everyone as Harry Beaumont, neonatal surgeon. Not as Harry Beaumont, Duke of Montrose.

  As he pulled his car up the long, winding drive of Eglinton Hall, he’d already made up his mind. They’d only stay as long as they had to. If he had to, he could use a patient as an excuse for leaving. But the truth was, Billy, his mother and baby Jude were all doing well. He had four more surgeries scheduled in the next few days, with two babies being transferred from other hospitals, and two mothers whose babies had cardiac issues delivering in the Queen Victoria especially so their babies could go straight for surgery with Harry.

  This was practically his only night off for a while, so he intended to use it well.

  ‘Busy place,’ murmured Esther as they joined the line of cars filing up to the main doors with liveried staff opening the doors, then whisking the cars away again.

  Harry gave her a worried smile as they pulled up next. Waiting as she walked around the car and holding out his arm for her as they climbed the steps.

  This night would be good. He’d make sure of it.

  * * *

  Cinderella had arrived in a horse-drawn carriage, and Esther arrived in an Aston Martin. She wasn’t sure which one was better.

  Carly’s dress was a dream. She gathered the skirts in her hand as they climbed the stairs and stepped into the biggest reception hall she’d ever seen.

  This whole place was magnificent. From the impressive sand-coloured stone building, the elegant windows and the four towers at each corner of the house. Except it wasn’t a house. Not in the normal sense. It was one of those gorgeous mansions owned by the rich, the very rich and the very, very rich. The size and scale reminded her of Kelvingrove Museum in Glasgow that she’d visited as a school kid when it housed Egyptian relics and dinosaur bones.

  Who actually lived in a place like this?

  The huge reception hall had tiny white and black tiles on the floor that looked like marble. The walls were covered in dark wood panels but the whole place felt light and airy, brightly illuminated by the biggest chandelier she’d ever seen.

  Staff stood with silver trays of long-stemmed glasses at the entrance way to a room on the right. Harry nodded at a few people casually. He wasn’t stunned by these surroundings at all. He seemed quite at home as he led her through to the next room. Voices were low as people chatted and sipped their champagne.

  Thank goodness for Carly. Although Esther was quite sure the dress she was wearing had probably cost a lot less than most of the other female guests’ gowns, she didn’t feel out of place at all. Most wore full-length gowns. Some beautiful. Some daring. And some just a little...strange.

  But Esther’s felt fine in comparison. Nearly every gentleman wore a tux like Harry’s. She shot him a sideways glance. But every gentleman didn’t look half as good as Harry did. She could see him getting admiring glances from other women. But his arm had slid around her waist as they’d entered this room, and there it firmly remained. It made her heart flutter in a way she wasn’t ready to acknowledge.

  ‘Harry!’ came a deep voice near to them. A tall man came over, arm outstretched, and shook Harry’s hand enthusiastically, gripping his arm with his own hand. ‘I’m so glad you’re here.’ He leaned over conspiratorially. ‘You can always help me hide when it gets too much.’

  Harry’s smile was broad and genuine. ‘Lord Breckenridge—David—I’d like you to meet my good friend Esther McDonald.’

  The older man turned towards her, shaking her hand just as enthusiastically as he’d shook Harry’s. ‘It’s a real pleasure—any friend of Harry’s is always welcome.’ He turned and waved over to a woman behind them. ‘Sabrina, Harry’s here.’

  The woman was dressed in black satin, her grey hair pinned elegantly back. She didn’t walk; instead, she seemed to glide over to meet them, encompassing Harry in a hug. He kissed both of the woman’s cheeks. ‘So nice to see you.’

  After his comments in the car she’d wondered what to expect. But his affection for this pair was obvious, and Esther was secretly relieved. What must it have been like to grow up with parents who treated you as if you were merely part of the furniture?

  The woman wasn’t only elegant, she had an old-world charm about her. She spoke to Esther, asking her questions about her job, and seemed genuinely interested in her answers.

  For the first time, the initial fear of fitting in, in a place like this, finally started to leave Esther.

  ‘It’s so nice to see Harry bring a friend,’ Lady Brackenridge said in her ear.

  ‘Thank you for having me.’ Esther smiled. ‘Harry told me you have the ball every year in memory of your son. I was so sorry to hear about him.’

  Lady Brackenridge put her hand on Esther’s arm and gave it a little squeeze. ‘It was a long time ago. But I still miss him every day. Just like I should.’ She put her hand up to her heart. ‘Harry and Gavin were such good friends. I’ve always looked out for him.’

  There was genuine affection in her eyes and Esther spoke carefully. ‘He seems so comfortable around you both—and comfortable here too. That’s nice. He told me about his difficult relationship with his father.’

  ‘He did?’ Lady Breckenridge’s eyes went wide. She glanced at Harry and her head gave a little nod. Her lips gave a h
int of a smile and she shot Esther an approving look. ‘I’m glad. Harry is nothing like his father—or his mother for that matter. I always hoped that Harry and his father would make up before the duke died. But it wasn’t to be. Old age didn’t suit the duke. It just made him more ill-tempered and irrational than before, and poor Harry always bore the brunt of it.’ She leaned towards Esther and cupped her cheek. ‘You, my girl, might just be the joy that Harry has always been looking for.’

  Esther jerked a little at the unexpected affectionate movement. It made her stomach flutter, partly with warmth, and partly with the fear of the expectation that seemed to have just descended on her. Lady Brackenridge spun around as someone came up behind her, greeting her loudly.

  There was a loud announcement at a door just ahead. ‘Guests, you are kindly invited to take your seats for the Avistock Charity Ball.’

  Harry appeared out of thin air and held out his elbow for Esther again. She was still digesting what Lady Brackenridge had said, a tiny swell of panic in her chest. This was temporary. This was just supposed to be fun. She slipped her arm through his and followed the crowds through the double doors.

  The ballroom was opulent, decorated in gold and white. Large round tables, covered in white linen with twenty seats at each, covered the expanse of the room. Harry gave their names and they were given a table number. As they sat down, Esther picked up the little card in front of them.

  It was a programme for the auction and her stomach muscles tightened. Of course. A charity auction. Realisation flooded over her as other guests took their seats at the table.

  Of course. A charity auction with a programme of items up for bids. A shopping trip at one of London’s most exclusive stores. Four seats at an extremely popular football cup final. Four seats and travel to an even more popular European football cup final. A box at a show in New York that had a years-long waiting list for tickets. VIP tickets to a gig by one of the biggest pop stars.

  Esther’s hand went automatically to her champagne glass, which she instantly downed—her mouth had never felt quite so dry. One of the staff placed some plates of hors d’oeuvres on the table. Esther hid her smile. The food was actually so small it could hardly be seen.