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Yours,
W.
Drake folded the note and gave it for the footman to deliver. At the latest developments, he couldn’t very well show up at some function with Hester on his arm when the whole ton believed he courted the debutante. He had full awareness that this apparent change in their outlook would not please her father. At this moment, other things occupied his mind for him to care too much. Hester would be safe; he’d make sure of that.
The footman came back with her answer.
My esteemed Lord W.
Thank you for your timely warning. Seeing it as I aim at remaining unmarried, it's more convenient that you 'end' it. If it helps to advance the case, I'll be at the Brunswicks ball.
Yours,
M.
He threw the note in the fire as the lady in question most assuredly did with his, for confidentiality's sake. Philippa's ball and her warm acceptance of Hester would give him leverage in his quest. His appearance in the company of Hester would send the message of his non-betrothal. Things looked up, fortunately.
Hester checked herself in the cheval mirror in her chamber at Worcester House, nerves causing her hands to be clammy and her heart to gallop. Not even the prospect of facing an audience of hundreds got her in this state. She'd chosen one of the best dresses Drake had ordered for her in emerald silk that matched her eyes perfectly. She put on her gloves with shaky hands, admonishing herself for having fallen in the damned man's trap, and cursing said man for it. There was no need to go through this. The result was as predictable as mixing tea and milk. Even if the ball would be at the Duke and Duchess of Brunswick's townhouse, it only meant that the hosts were her friends, nothing more. The other people weren't her friends and probably would never be.
Her life, her work on the stage made her happy. She required no more than
that. The Greens came from humble origins, and she saw no shame in it. But she’d promised Drake to give it a try, and she’d stick to her word.
Five minutes before the due time, there was a rap on her door. At her word, Drake came in. His brandy eyes lit on her, taking in her figure from elaborate hair on top of her head with tendrils framing her face, her attire moulding her curves with perfection to her green satin slippers and reticule.
“You’ll be the most dazzling woman in the ball,” he drawled in a molten tone that washed heat down her body.
With difficulty, she produced a brittle smile of acknowledgement of his praise, her hands twisting in front of her.
“These will match your beauty,” he said and opened a velvet box she hadn’t even seen in his hands.
Her eyes lowered to spot a delicate emerald necklace and earrings in understated good taste. Her jaw dropped, despite her effort in avoiding it, as an intake of breath filled her starved lungs. “I-I don’t know what to say,” she blurted.
With his gaze intent on her, he answered, “Your incomparable eyes say it all,” His voice was a velvety caress lighting her skin. “May I?” And gestured to the jewel box.
In reply, she turned as he rested the box on the vanity to pick the necklace up. He came close, so close she could sense the heat of his body. Then his hands placed the jewel around her neck and clasped it, his hands feathering her skin as he completed the task.
His head bent to her ear, lips floating a mere inch from the shell as he inhaled her perfume. Everything in her melted with the yearning for him.
He admired her through the mirror with a heated gaze. “When are you going to stop punishing me for proposing marriage?” More rumble than rasp, it nearly surrendered her with a lightning reaction.
These past few nights she’d been in a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts and emotions, all of them so distressing that she didn’t have to heart to go to him. And she missed those steamy nights with such fervour she might burst with their mere memory.
But she forced herself to find her voice. “I’m not punishing you.” Her head half-turned to him. “It’s just that you shocked me.” And busied herself in pinning the drop earrings.
“You should know by now that I’m not your average lord.” Their eyes met in the mirror.
At that, she turned to him. “Perhaps you are, and this is only a whim.”
His eyes narrowed at her words. “When have you seen me being whimsical?”
To tell the truth, she hadn’t, but it didn’t mean he might not start at any moment. “Never,” she admitted, not so confidently.
He followed her words by extending his gloved hand to her. “Let’s not spoil a promising night by quarrelling,” he determined.
He had the right of it. The ball ahead felt daunting enough without an argument. Which caused her to put her hand on his, and revel in his encouraging warmth.
As their carriage stopped at the ducal driveway for them to disembark, Hester’s restless eyes lifted to the bright chandeliers at the entrance hall, her teeth worrying her lower lip, her fingers fidgeting with the strings on her reticule. Drake moved to help her down, and there was no delaying the inevitable.
