Page 26 of Rescuing Lord Inglewood

Knowing what a beautiful, though complex, woman laid sleeping on the other side made that thought not entirely overwhelming.

Chapter Eleven

The carriage bearing the earl’s coat of arms waited at the foot of the front steps, while Esther stood at the top. She studied the shield with curiosity, the bright red birds upon the yellow field making her wonder just what it meant to bear her husband’s name and share his title. Silas was inside, settling final matters with the butler as to keeping the house secure and well locked while he was away. Was this a normal conversation when he took his leave from the Keep, or a new one, had because of her presence?

Then she heard his footstep and she turned, fixing what might pass for a friendly smile upon her face. “I hope the roads stay fine for you, Silas.”

He raised his eyebrows at her and cocked his head to one side, as though trying to find a deeper meaning in her words. “Thank you. The weather has kept the roads dry enough of late. Esther, I promise to return as swiftly as possible.”

“So you have said,” she answered with forced lightness. “In the time between now and then, I will give myself a holiday. I shall be lazy, indolent, and good for nothing until you return.”

One corner of his mouth quirked upward. “That is the very thing I should wish. Only do as you please, whether it is work or play. The staff know to heed your every whim, and Mrs. Larry is available should you wish to make any changes to how things are done. This is your Keep now, Esther. I hope you will be happy here.”

The mention of the housekeeper made her grimace. Oh, Mrs. Larry seemed a fine enough woman, but at least twice Esther’s age. Doubtless the woman would resent an interloper changing the way things were done.

Silas stepped closer to her, invading her thoughts with his physical presence. He stood over her, and when he spoke again his voice was intimately low. “While our marriage might have been of necessity, I would have you know, I am not at all sorry for it.”

She had to raise her chin to meet his eyes, hardly believing the sincerity and warmth within them. Did she regret it? There had been precious little time to do so. Of course, with her reputation at stake, there was no other choice. “That is kind of you to say,” she answered, tone as low as his. “I hope I never give you cause for regret.”

His smile softened, and then he bent closer.

Esther hardly had time to understand his motive before she felt the soft brush of his lips upon her cheek. It was an unlooked-for token, a surprise gift, which made the day seem hot and sent a swirl of sensation through her middle.

“A fortnight, Esther,” he whispered, and then he was gone.

She blinked, trying to make her eyes focus correctly, and watched as he strode down the steps, setting his hat atop his head as he went. She put a hand to her middle and tried to breathe, and after the carriage door shut behind her husband, she lifted her hand in a weak farewell. He waved back and tipped his hat to her, then with a jolt the carriage made its way down the drive.

Esther watched until the curving road took the conveyance out of sight, both hands wrapped around her middle. She leaned her shoulder against the doorframe, listening to the quiet world around her. Behind her lay the Keep, empty except for servants who would not converse with her. Behind the house, there were gardens, a slope of land, and then the sea, rolling up and down the beach without a care.

She did not want the Keep, nor the sea, at present. Without bonnet or gloves, she went down the steps and across the green lawn, making for a grove of silver birch trees. Inglewood Keep was known for its trees, and she had spent hours beneath the birch especially. As had Isaac and his set of friends, which included her present husband.

She passed beneath the first of their shadows at the same moment as a strong breeze, which shook their branches merrily above her. It was perhaps her favorite greeting of the last several days. The trees welcomed her, not caring that she had grown too mature to climb them, or that she had married the man who claimed them. She let her hand brush against a trunk with a wistful smile. Though it had been years since she had come here, the trees looked much the same as ever.

“I wonder if it is still there?” she murmured, going deeper into the grove, looking for its center. When they had visited the Keep as children, when she was still supposed to be minding her manners in the nursery, Isaac had let her sneak out with him just once. He had brought her to the grove, to show her where he and Silas, the twins, and Jacob Barnes had played all the day long. He must’ve been around ten years old at the time, when such games still held interest for him.

She emerged into a small clearing, really no more than ten feet wide, and covered her mouth to still a delighted laugh. There, in the center of the grass, sat a very old, weather-worn boat pulled in from the shore by five enterprising children. On one side of the boat, in swirling letters Grace Everly had left behind, were the words, The Silver Birch Society. The five friends had formed a club, and for some reason had created it in a boat that rested among trees rather than shoals.

As a little girl, the boat being so dreadfully out of place had delighted and enthralled Esther. She had thought it a wonderful secret. Isaac hadn’t allowed her to come and play in it when with his friends, but knowing of its existence had given her contentment. When she was finally old enough to explore the grove on her own, the others had outgrown the playfulness that would lead them there. She was perhaps nine years old, Isaac and Silas were fourteen or fifteen, too important to visit the site of their former playing field.

Esther stepped in to the boat and gingerly sat down on its seat, doing her best to avoid snagging her dress on any splintered wood. She lifted her face to the sunlight, another breeze stirred the curls hanging about her neck. The birds began to sing in the trees again, where they had been silent as she tramped about below them.

Perhaps she needed the solitude Silas’s absence had given her. When the world around her was at peace, she felt so herself.

A branch broke nearby, startling her out of her reverie. Esther stood hastily, the boat shifting slightly beneath her. The boys had used dirt and stone to keep it level when they first brought it to sit beneath the trees, but wind and rain had likely undermined the former stability. She stepped out, casting one last glance around her, then hurried back the way she had come.

No one knew where she was, and if any harm befell her, help would be long in coming.

She emerged from the trees and into the full sunlight most gratefully, then chided herself for overreacting. Trees made all sorts of sounds, creaking and bending in the wind, and it could have been no more than a squirrel or deer—

“Ah, the new Lady Inglewood. Good morning.”

Or a most unwelcome man on horseback.

“Lord Neil,” she said, raising a hand to shade her view. “Whatever are you doing on my husband’s land?” She tried not to smirk as she said it, knowing full well how irritated Silas would be to see this particular neighbor. Lord Neil and Silas had never gotten on well. The former seemed to think, all their growing up, that because he was older, he ought to be in charge. Silas had never pulled rank among friends, but he was quick to do so when Lord Neil came to call. At least, from what she remembered, that had been the case.

“I came to wish you well, of course,” he said, swinging down from his horse. “And offer my congratulations to the earl on securing himself to his heroine. You must admit, your story sounds like something out of a novel that Radcliffe woman wrote.”

“There is nothing particularly gothic about our tale,” Esther returned, bringing her hand to her side again. “I am afraid the sun was even shining on the day we wed. Not a single cloud in the sky to add melancholy.”