Page 13 of Rescuing Lord Inglewood

A picnic had been arranged with several local families for that afternoon, and he had received an invitation to join them while he’d been preparing to leave London. The Everlys had sent it to him, in case he planned to be at his estate in time to attend. A gathering full of old neighbors and acquaintances, and held in the informal outdoors, would be the perfect place to check and see how far Esther’s encounter with him had spread.

Silas rested his elbows on the stone rail. The gossip in London had died down somewhat, as had the sly remarks at the club. One foul Whig had hinted at Silas’s less than noble behavior during an evening’s meeting at Lords. Gratefully, the papers hadn’t said anything yet.

What would Isaac say if he knew the precarious position of his sister? Silas had written him, giving a full account of Esther’s actions and the consequences thereof, in order to avoid Isaac hearing of a scandal without being forewarned. Though it was likely he men of the army cared little for ballroom gossip, given all they were going through.

“My lord,” Arnold said from the doorway. “Do you wish to prepare for the afternoon out?”

“Yes.” Silas adjusted his posture and slipped behind his mask of stone once more. “It promises to be a fine afternoon, Arnold.”

His valet bowed his agreement, and in his usual efficient manner had Silas turned out in style in a trice. Arnold had been with Silas long enough to know exactly what the earl required. While his clothing was of fine material, he wore somber colors and conservative cuts. None could ever accuse him of being a dandy or a slave to fashion. Silas’s dark blue coat, buff breeches, and a good pair of boots would see him through the picnic comfortably and respectably. His cravat, white as snow with a plain silver stickpin, marked him as a gentleman not about to do anything nonsensical.

He mounted his horse for the ride to Everly Refuge, three miles inland from his front door, fully expecting the day to turn out in his favor.

Chapter Six

Esther smoothed the front of her pale blue walking gown, peering into her looking glass with pursed lips. Her dark hair and eyes normally led her to choose more dramatic colors for her wardrobe, but as she was attempting to look the part of an innocent lady, with absolutely no reason for her name to be linked to a certain earl’s, more subdued colors seemed appropriate.

A knock at the door ended her self-study. “Esther, the cart is ready for the picnic. Are you finished?” It was Grace who called her, Esther felt certain of it. Grace had a way of speaking gently, no matter what she said, whereas Hope always sounded direct if not scolding when she brought someone to task.

“Coming,” she called, snatching up her gloves from the dressing table. She hurried out the door and caught up with Grace at the stairs. She slipped the wrist-length gloves on, attempting to show more enthusiasm than she felt for the day’s activities.

“The weather held out. I thought for certain it would rain again.” Grace’s usual calming manner did little to ease Esther’s thoughts. Esther had almost hoped for a storm. The rain had come and gone a great deal over the week she had been with the Everlys.

Several families she knew from her childhood would be present at the Everly picnic. The Parrs, the Keyes, a smattering of Kimballs. Silas had sent word, too, that he planned to attend. Not to her, of course, but to Mr. Everly, who had also not told her, but informed his wife. Mrs. Everly told her daughters who, thankfully, informed Esther.

Considering it was Esther’s reputation at stake, the frustration of being left untold and unconsulted at every turn continued to mount. Her headaches due to the injury she sustained a week before had finally abated, which left her thoughts surprisingly clear and focused. As kind as the Everlys were, each day with them drove into her thoughts two things; Society’s view of her interaction with Lord Inglewood was ludicrous, and the way she was shunted aside in every plan was insulting.

By the time they reached the meadow, next to the blooming apple orchards, Esther had worried herself into a confused state.

What role did she play at the picnic? Ought she to ignore the earl or pretend they had the oldest of friendships?

The first sight of the white flowers was the reason the picnic had been organized. The Everlys were quite fond of their orchards and celebrated the first blooms, the first fruits, the harvest, and even the brilliantly colored leaves in the fall.

Esther stepped out of the cart, bringing with her a basket of pastries. Servants had already put out a table and chairs, thick tablecloths were spread in sunshine and shadow, and guests had arrived. Nursery aged children played lawn games in the middle of the meadow.

“What a splendid day,” Hope said, appearing at Esther’s elbow and hooking their arms together.

Grace stepped up to Esther’s other side, her expression politely pleasant. “Keep your shawls at hand. The breeze still has a chill to it.” She shivered and pulled her dark green shawl around her shoulders. The twins were easy to tell apart today. Hope wore a bright yellow gown and a scarlet shawl, proclaiming boldness to all the world, while Grace wore a dove-gray gown and a darker wrap, her expression subdued.

Together they walked to the blankets to reacquaint Esther with their neighbors.

“Oh, Miss Fox. It has been an age since we have seen you,” Mrs. Parr declared, rising to her feet to embrace Esther. “Not since your dear mother passed. My thoughts have often gone to you and Sir Isaac. I hope he is well on the Continent?”

Beneath the ease of small talk, Esther started to relax. From one neighbor to the next she walked, asking after the health of relatives, and finding not a single sniff of rumor concerning herself or Silas. Not until Mrs. Keyes spoke of him.

“Dear Miss Fox, how wonderful to see you,” she said. “My, my. It doesn’t seem long ago that you and my dear Merriweather were playing together in the nursery.”

“How is Miss Keyes?” Esther asked quickly, though not interested in the answer. Merriweather Keyes had been a rather vain child, and her appearance in Society the year after Esther’s had been marked by suitors fawning all over her.

“Perfectly well.” Mrs. Keyes leaned closer, her tone turning sly. “In fact, I have rather high hopes for her at present. She is walking with Lord Inglewood in the orchard.” She stepped back again with a satisfied smile. “He asked her for a stroll moments after he arrived.”

Esther’s stomach twisted. Rather than wait to see her, which was supposedly the whole point in coming to the place of her exile, Silas had immediately secured time alone with one of the absolute worst people of Esther’s acquaintance. Why would he wish to spend even a moment with Miss Keyes? Artifice marked every action that woman took.

“The trees are lovely,” Grace said, most cordially. “I love walking beneath them myself.” She looped her arm through Esther’s. “Miss Fox, do come look at the blossoms. You have not seen them yet.”

After Grace led them several steps away, Esther whispered, “Thank you. I have never been fond of the Keyes.”

Without flickering an eyelash, Grace said, “Nor have I. But they are good neighbors, and it is difficult to escape their society without causing other issues.” Grace paused when they reached the first of the early blooming trees, then peered into the orchard. Esther looked, too, and saw several couples and small groups of people walking through the rows of trees. She thought she caught sight of Silas’s tall form moving between tree trunks, but it was likely no more than her imagination.