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“Undoubtedly,” she answered while forcefully clawing her eyes from him.
“I’ll send the footman as soon as I arrive at Worcester House.” He rasped the reiteration.
“Thank you.” The least she might do was to show her gratitude.
With a dry nod, he turned and left.
Drake had left the unutterably dull tea party and had been making his way home when his horse’s shoe broke. On foot, he roamed the streets and, by the time he marked his surroundings, he was in Drury Lane. And then suddenly, Hester literally bumped into him. Exactly who he craved to see though he’d not own it to the woman herself.
Now, leaving Hester’s house, he led his horse through to Mayfair, head heavy with what she said. Fury nearly got the best of him at Haddington’s abuse. Yes, abuse, because Charles Hilton, the duke, fairly threatened Hester. If he were to listen to his rage, Drake would go straight to the duke’s house and thrash him until he begged for mercy. The colossal instinct to protect Hester aroused so suddenly, and so unprecedentedly, he’d almost lost his speech. He’d nearly demanded to stay with her himself to make sure she’d be safe. Beforehand, he predicted she’d refuse, as she did the offer to go back to the other house.
He'd never have imagined that his fake future father-in-law would target Hester. Buxom blondes were his usual types. Though he figured that the duke aimed at entering in competition with the marquess. And Hester stood to be the casualty in this skirmish. Over his dead body, Drake promised himself. He'd kill anyone who dared even think in harming her.
It didn’t cross his mind to wonder why he felt this way. It would be a waste of time to ponder over such abstract questions. He preferred to take action instead. If his woman was in danger, he’d do everything in his power to protect her. Even if she didn’t agree she was his, the little rebel.
Indisputably, she came in the middle of this because of his mother’s machinations and his own agreed ruse with Haddington’s chit. Which made it his responsibility to prevent any further threats to her well-being.
Arriving home, he instructed his brawniest footman to stay close to Hester at all times.
CHAPTER FIVE
The stocky footman, Bruce, followed her everywhere. And Hester couldn't say what was worse, this shadow or the threat of Haddington. Even now, as she headed for the rehearsal, the servant nearly stepped on her heels. Certainly, nothing would happen to her in broad daylight, but Bruce said his orders were clear. His constant presence only broke as she reached the theatre and Worcester would send him home to rest until rehearsals ended and he returned to resume his post.
As she entered the backstage, she saw Drake already talking to the actors. Their eyes met and a current vibrated through her. She lowered her gaze quickly as Worcester signalled to Bruce to leave until late afternoon.
In this fashion, the days elapsed, and the preparations for the play progressed. Worcester had seen to it that her notes became part of the main text, and the rehearsals included them. Even bewildered with the marquess's open-minded changes, she felt glad a woman's voice would echo on stage even if timidly. It was more than she had ever expected.
But it hadn’t been easy to work all day, everyday side by side with Drake. The ceaseless emotional strain of his presence ate at her insides, and she finished her duties exhausted and restive. When she finally found her bed, it was to reminisce on the day’s events and revel in her mind’s eye’s image of him.
Haddington hadn't spoken with her again or shown up at the theatre, which brought her a deep sense of relief. She almost believed she'd been imagining danger where there was none and intended to ask Drake to stop torturing poor Bruce with unnecessary nocturnal watches. The footman stood outside her door during the night with little shelter from the weather.
At noon, Worcester gave the actors the usual break, and Hester sat at the backstage with bread and cheese and a cup of tea. The others preferred to go to a nearby tavern for a warm meal, but Hester often got hers after the rehearsal.
She sensed someone sit by her side. A large someone and didn’t need to look to know who it was.
“Any news about Haddington?” Drake asked as he fished an apple from his pocket.
“No.” she looked at him, though it was always a mistake to do so. “I’m beginning to see that poor Bruce need not go to all this trouble.”
“Yes, he does.” He insisted. “We’re not talking about a harmless buck here.”
“Sure, but after that evening, the duke never showed again.” She rebutted.
“You came into his attention because of me. And I’ll not allow anything to happen to you.”
During their year together, Drake hadn’t exhibited this protective streak. Hester was at a loss what to make of it. As though he cared, she mocked herself. He may just wish to avoid scandals that would anger his very aristocratic mother. Hester met the Dowager Marchioness only a few times, none of them pleasant. The older woman viewed Hester as an obstacle to her lineage ambitions. Not that Hester would stand in the way, she left her bird’s nest at the first sign of a match. As a mother though, the noblewoman knew the son she had. The very reluctant son she had. Hester kept in mind that this should be something between mother and son and made it a point not to interfere.
"His Grace will soon forget about me," she said and harboured no doubt about that. The duke would be satisfied when Drake married his daughter and carried on with the dynastic issues.
“I expect you’re right. Then and only then will I relieve Bruce of his duties towards you.”
Since he'd been the one to assign the footman he paid, she had no say in the matter. A long moment passed with them in silence. Drake's big frame loomed close, mining her will-power. Seeing him every day for all these hours comprised a real setback to her resolve. Her eyes tried hard not to ogle him as she made herself eat; she'd need the sustenance until her dinner before the evening play.
“I’d like us to have a soiree sometime next week.” His tenor wormed itself in her ears merely to wreak havoc with her eager nerves.
Her head snapped to him. "Why ever for?" One more trip down memory lane would feel insurmountable.
He shrugged that bunched shoulder of his. “To bring our friends together for one.” He seemed very interested in the scenery painted on the flats beyond. “And to show Haddington you’re still under my protection.” He met her eyes as he said that.
