Page 12 of Rescuing Lord Inglewood

“I hope once you are settled you might tell me what all of this is about,” Hope said. She regarded Esther with undisguised curiosity. “Silas’s letter was far too vague for my liking.” She must have seen Esther’s dismay, for she quickly added, “I wasn’t supposed to read the letter. It was addressed to Papa, but he left it on his desk. If you would rather not discuss what happened—”

“What did the letter say?” Esther asked quickly, before she lost courage. How much had Silas revealed of her plight? Of his part in it? And what, exactly, had he done to ensure the Everlys accepted her into their home?

Hope did not even blush, though that one eyebrow arched upward again. “Nothing of much consequence. Silas wrote to father, asking if we would open our home to you for a fortnight. He said there had been some trouble in London and it was best you were looked after somewhere quiet for a time.”

“Looked after?” Esther shook her head and began to untie her bonnet’s ribbons. “Like a naughty child sent back to the nursery.” She pulled the bonnet off and slung it toward the bed, uncaring that Hope saw the momentary lapse in decorum.

“Miss Fox, here we are.” Mary entered the room from a closet, clean clothing in hand. “I have put your things away and we can get you into bed for that nap.”

Esther shook her head and turned away from Mary. “A nap is the very last thing I want at present.” Crossing her arms, she realized Hope had lingered in the doorway. “Forgive me, Miss Everly. I am out of sorts.”

“We have known each other too long to be formal, Esther.” Hope waved away the propriety and came further into the room, closing the door behind her. “If you have no wish to nap, I have no wish to leave you. I had much rather uncover the story behind your coming, and how Silas fits into it, and why you are angry with him.”

“Angry?” Esther drew back. “With Lord Inglewood?” That could not be right. The situation upset her, of course, but to be angry at a man because she had dared to help him would be a ludicrous situation indeed.

Hope took the chair near the empty hearth and gestured to Mary. “You may as well make her comfortable while she speaks. I have the feeling this is quite a tale.”

Ought she to tell Hope? She knew the woman’s character of old, but had the mischievous and practical child turned into a responsible adult? Esther hovered between speaking and keeping the details behind her visit to herself. Confiding in someone, not just about the day of the incident, but her own feelings on the repercussions, might be something of a relief.

“Esther,” Hope said, slumping back into the chair in a most unladylike manner. “I will not leave until I know the whole of it. If you refuse to tell me, I will get Grace, and she will have you confessing quickly.”

That made Esther’s lips twitch, and she almost smiled. “Grace? She is no more fearsome than a kitten.”

“She has all the patience I wasn’t born with, however, and will out-wait you.” Hope made a show of looking bored.

Finally, Esther relented. “Very well. I will tell you everything. But you will keep it between us.”

“And Grace.” Hope corrected her posture, a gleam of excitement in her eye. “I cannot keep secrets from Grace. But go on. Let me hear your story.”

Esther looked from the eager Hope to an uncertain Mary, then nodded to the maid. As Mary helped her from her travel clothing, Esther told of the morning that Hermes fell, of rescuing Silas, and the ensuing dilemma with her reputation. Then she excused Mary to finish unpacking. It did not take long to reveal what she had heard listening through the crack of her brother’s study.

“I am being treated like a helpless child,” she said, finishing the story. “No one has consulted me about a thing, merely told me what to do and how to behave myself.”

“That would be rather upsetting,” Hope agreed, her brows lowered thoughtfully. “Given that all of this happened because of an act of bravery on your part. It is most unfair. When Silas comes, I think you ought to tell him exactly how you feel.”

Esther had been pacing, wearing a night-rail over a clean shift, but stopped short of a step when Hope spoke. “Lord Inglewood is coming here?”

“He said he would visit his estate while you stayed with us.” Hope shrugged. “That was in the letter to Father, too.”

Esther drew herself up to her full height. “Why? I thought he meant to watch over the situation in London.”

“I haven’t any idea.” Hope pushed herself out of the chair and came forward, wrapping Esther in an unexpected embrace. “I am glad you told me of your troubles. I will do my best to help you forget them, as will Grace. We will have a lovely time while you visit.”

“I—Thank you.” Esther barely had time to return the affectionate gesture before Hope whirled away and out of the room. Mary closed the door behind her, with a puzzled expression that must have matched Esther’s.

“I’m not sure I would’ve told her anything, miss,” Mary said, her face full of worry. “She doesn’t seem like the sort to keep things like that to herself.”

“Oh, she will tell her sister, certainly.” Esther folded her arms over her chest, protecting herself from a future she could not see. “I think she will be an ally while we are here. Hope was a fierce protector and fighter of causes when we were children.” But Esther had never been one of those causes and hadn’t any idea what to expect from her lady knight errant.

∞∞∞

Before Silas stepped foot on his land, he could smell the sea. His family had owned several miles of the shoreline for generations, and built their somewhat unique house at such a point that they could look out of its highest towers for a clear view of the North Sea. It had always been rather comforting to him, the sight of all that water stretching before him, the smell of the briny air. No matter what happened to him, to the Keep, to Great Britain itself, the sea would always be there, its waves crashing onto the beach throughout time.

He stared out at the sea only minutes after arriving at Inglewood Keep, from the balcony of his room.

The continuity of the sea steadied him on the rare occasions he doubted himself or his direction. Such as the moment he made plans to salvage Esther Fox’s reputation. Of course, given that she had saved him from being crushed by an antiquated god, he owed her his best efforts on that score.

His lips turned up slightly at the memory of her wit, though she lay injured upon a couch. The girl had grown into a beautiful woman. If the rumors died down, he might have need to write Isaac for permission to get to know Esther better.