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Quickly, she strode out of the dressing room and hid in the privy, trembling, as blood leeched out of her face and a cold sweat broke on her skin. The last thing she imagined was attracting this man’s attention. She wouldn’t have accepted his offer even if she hadn’t heard of his cruelty to women. Worcester would be the one and only. But it seemed there’d be no way to fight the prejudices attached to her trade. She’d fight them, nonetheless, if not the prejudices then the men using them for their own ends. When she felt less shaky, she left the privy to go say good-bye to Oliver and Ely.
At the theatre’s backdoor, Hester covered her head with her cloak’s hood, congratulating herself for bringing it despite the short distance to her house. Nervously, she looked around as though someone might spring from the shadows and do her harm. Her conversation with the duke left her jumpy. The sun had already disappeared as the shadows dominated the back street where the lamps didn’t reach. Head down, she hurried away unsure if that man would follow her or not. He didn’t look like someone who might stoop that low, but she’d better not risk it.
She turned around the corner in such a speed that she had no chance of avoiding colliding with a warm wall of muscles. Big hands held her shoulders as she recognised the scent of him.
“You should look where you go, miss.” He warned before she lifted her head to him. “Hester.” He rasped.
“Drake.” She answered almost glad to see him.
Observing better, she saw that unmounted, he pulled his horse by the reins, the end of which became caught between his hand and her shoulder. “Genghis-Khan lost a shoe.” He explained.
“I see.” And eyed him before continuing. “Good night.” And moved to go, except he still had his hands on her shoulder.
Drake studied her, and Hester suspected her eyes were too bright and too wide while she’d been unable to hide the tightness from her voice or the ashen hue of her front.
“What is it?” His brows crumpled as his eyes took all of her.
“Nothing.” She blurted. “I should go.”
“Are you going home?” He asked as his hands fell from her, but his eyes remained fixed on her face.
“Yes.” And turned to go.
“I’ll accompany you.” And fell into step with her. “Wasn’t there anyone to be with you?”
“My father and Ely are busy,” she said, not meeting his gaze. In her current situation, refusing his help would be stupid, so she headed to her street.
They walked the short distance in silence until she stopped in front of her entrance and fished her key from an inner pocket on her skirts. “See? Safely home.”
He’d hear none of it as he took the key and unlocked the door. Before she had the chance to bid him farewell, he’d tethered the horse and followed her into the dim hallway.
He shut them inside while she lit candles and the fireplace, soft light spreading in the tiny drawing-room. When she turned to him, he had his legs braced and arms crossed, his scrutiny never leaving her.
"What happened?" He asked in a tone that brokered no going around it.
Her gaze clashed with his, swimming in undiluted distress. “Lady Millicent’s father came to talk to me after the play.”
Disgust smothered his rugged features. “Haddington?” She didn’t even know his given name and cared not to learn.
She nodded stiffly. At the question in his stance, she had to continue. “He said you would discard me before the betrothal.” And let her cloak fall from her shoulders to hang it on a nearby peg.
He breathed a humourless laugh, no doubt at the fact that Hester had taken care of it before either man had even thought of it. But his attention remained fast on her. “And?” He knew her enough to read her reactions, blast him.
“Informed me he’ll be my next keeper.”
“Goddamnit!” He swore.
The mere memory got her so nervous she lost her balance and put her hand out onto the table, but he was faster. Collecting her in his arms, he sat on a worn couch on the corner with her on his lap.
The events of the evening made it impossible for her to reject his support. Her head fell on his broad shoulder, her arm wrapping him, his familiar scent of rosemary and leather bringing her solace. His jaw rested on her hair, and they stayed like this for long minutes. The warmth of his body seeped into hers, calming her little by little.
“I told him I won’t need another keeper.” She volunteered when she became certain her voice wouldn’t let her down.
One long finger lifted her chin, and she met brandy orbs full of worry. “As if he cares what you choose.” His voice came as pure banked fury.
“He must.” She shrugged and returned her head to his muscular chest.
“Hester.” Her eyes rose back to him. “You’re aware this doesn’t bode well for you.”
