Page 24 of Rescuing Lord Inglewood

“You think you ought to have let Hermes have his way with me?” Silas asked, his tone flat.

Esther jerked to a stop and stared at him. “Of course not! I spoke of the brook incident. My temper—” She stopped talking when she caught the way his eyes crinkled at the corners. Was he biting the inside of his cheeks? “Oh, you horrible man. I see you have not outgrown your teasing.”

He lifted one shoulder in a shrug and his smile slowly spread across his face. Oh, but he was handsomest when he smiled. His green eyes brightened, his whole demeanor changed, and she almost glimpsed the boy he had been. “You were always so easy to tease, and always surprised by it. Isaac certainly never gave you reason to expect it.”

“Isaac saw himself as a protector, not a tormenter.” She tried to remain irritated with him, but another secret to Silas’s smiles were how infectious they were. “Which is why he will be terribly shocked by his sister’s behavior. He shall think I ought to have known better, with all the times he risked himself to keep me poised and proper.”

“You miss him a great deal.”

Esther looked away when the laughter in Silas’s expression was replaced by gentle concern. “He is all the family I have left. Hugh and Diana mean well, of course, but they must be relieved to no longer have to care for me. Hugh was so much older and already married when our parents wed. We have never been close. After Mother passed away, Isaac and I were quite alone.”

“I hope you no longer feel that way,” Silas said, his voice almost too low to hear. “You are part of my family now, Esther.”

She tried to smile. “Your family, Silas? But you haven’t anyone, either.”

His arm stiffened beneath hers, then relaxed. “I supposed a second cousin poised to inherit my title does not count for much. What I meant—what I mean to say, Esther—” He stopped walking and she did as well, turning to peer up into his handsome face. He wore that expression from the church again. That earnest, hopeful look that tugged at her heart in a most alarming manner. “I hardly remember what it was like to have parents. My grandmother was not exactly affectionate. But I am—I am quite looking forward to being a husband and to the family that you and I will form together.”

It was by no means an eloquent speech, yet she heard the truth in his words. Her heart rose and she nearly believed him.

As much as she wished for harmony between them, however, she hesitated. Though he spoke with conviction he had treated her as no more than a responsibility. One he might be fond of and might even prove useful in providing an heir. But he felt nothing for her. He expected her to take orders. He would not even ask her to come with him to London, nor explain leaving her behind. She could not risk caring for him when he saw her as no more important than a prized pet.

“This is a subject for when you return from London, I should think,” she said briskly, putting enough distance between them so that her hand barely rested upon his coat sleeve. They resumed their walk. “How long do you anticipate being away?”

“Perhaps a fortnight, if nothing too exciting occurs on the Continent,” he answered slowly, the resolute tone from before replaced with solemnity. “If your brother’s letter arrives here before I do, you have my permission to read it.”

How magnanimous. “Thank you.” Esther said nothing more personal for the remainder of the walk, though she attempted to be agreeable by pointing out boats upon the water and flowers growing near the sand. They were soon inside, and Silas did not try to engage her on personal matters again.

Chapter Ten

Whatever Silas expected from Esther, it had not been the vulnerability that by turns made her cry or her temper rise. He paced his room, quietly so as not to disturb his countess in the next room, attempting to puzzle her out.

Her fluctuating moods reminded him of the sea itself, at times storming angrily and others times casting the lightest of mists upon the shore. Some might say the sea was unpredictable, but to one who studied it carefully, the patterns and warning signs of upheaval were easy to note. Already Silas thought he saw a pattern in his wife’s behavior. She stormed angrily when left out of making decisions, even if they were made with the best of intentions for her behalf. But her quieter, tearful moments had come on when she felt alone.

Having spent most of his life alone, Silas did not fully understand the sentiment. Perhaps it had something to do with being a woman. A man alone might carry on very well, but a woman alone was exposed to all manner of hardship, danger, and an inability to control her destiny.

As he dressed for dinner, their first together in his whole memory, Silas’s thoughts remained tangled in Esther’s conversation from the beach. They had almost spoken of important things, but she changed the topic to the inconsequential. Perhaps it was for the best, given that he must leave the next morning. There was no use in starting a weighty conversation that could have no follow-through for a fortnight.

Although, he realized as his valet put a pin in his cravat, he could write to her. Words written on a page might be better received, and could not be interrupted. Yes, he would write to her. Every day, if possible. Letters might connect them in a way that would allow his return to be accepted, even anticipated, with greater pleasure and warmth.

That decided, Silas left his room in a much happier frame of mind. Having a course of action always improved his mood. He turned toward the stairs and froze, seeing Esther there before him.

She stood with one hand on the stair rail, half-turned in his direction, as though only just aware of his presence in the hall. The picture she made was elegance itself, and deserving of a portrait. Her light brown hair was piled atop her head, only small ringlets escaping a jeweled comb and blue satin ribbons. Amethysts dangled from her ears and coral beads circled her throat. The chandelier hanging above the stair illuminated her trim figure, the dark blue dress wrapping her in sophistication.

“Am I too early?” she asked, her manner hesitant.

Silas shook his head, unable to find his voice for a moment.

Esther regarded him with a furrowed brow, obviously perplexed by his manner. “Shall we go down together?”

“Yes. Of course.” He hurried forward and offered her his arm. “I do hope you passed a pleasant afternoon in your quarters.” She had left him after their walk ended in the gardens, to put her room and belongings to rights, she said.

“Indeed. Yes. I even wrote to Isaac. I was hoping you could take the letter with you, since your connections are more certain about delivery than the common post.”

“I would be happy to be your messenger, my lady,” he said, his lips turning upward when he used her title. The title he had bestowed upon her through their marriage.

“Thank you.” Esther turned her attention to the parlor doors when they gained the first ground floor. “Our walk and the exertions of the day have left me more than a little peckish.”

Silas chuckled. “I hope you enjoy the meal I arranged. From now on, it will fall to you to make and approve menus.”