Page 54 of Rescuing Lord Inglewood

“Yes, you horrid man.” She raised her face to study his, the joy in her expression surprising Silas. He had never seen her look that way. Like a saint looking toward heaven itself. “We are even putting a plaque in the church, in your honor.”

The slightest smile teased at Isaac’s mouth. “Really? I cannot wait to see it.”

Bailey recovered at last, and he came forward slowly. “I beg your pardon, Sir Isaac. My lord.” He bowed and held out his hands. “May I take your things, Sir Isaac?”

“Yes, please. And I suppose my trunk ought to be brought in, though I had intended to go to London tomorrow. I can stay here now, since Esther is visiting.” He stepped to the side, gently using one arm to disentangle himself from his sister. He took off his hat, then put his hand to his mouth to tug his glove off with his teeth.

That was when Silas saw it. Esther’s sharp gasp indicated she noticed at last, too.

Isaac had to use his teeth, because he lacked his left hand. Judging from the way his sleeve was pinned up, most of the arm was gone.

The butler paled, but he took the hat and glove without comment and stepped away. It seemed giving in to hysterics more than once in a day was too much for the servant. He walked away quickly.

“Can we sit down?” Isaac asked, his voice deceptively light. “I am a returned war hero, you know.”

“Yes.” Esther’s hand trembled as she gestured to the study door. “This way.” She turned and hurried before them almost as if outrunning what she had seen. But she stopped at the door when a footman opened it and turned back, her eyes large and her lips pressed together.

Silas walked behind Isaac, unable to think of a single thing to say. Had he not been thinking, only that morning, of how much he would give just to have one more word with Isaac? The man had appeared, miraculously, and Silas’s tongue refused to work in tandem with his thoughts. He had a plethora of questions. One of which was why Isaac thought Esther ought to have been in London.

Isaac slowed when he came to his sister standing in the doorway. He reached up to squeeze her arm with his right hand. “Essie, come now. It isn’t so bad as all that. I promise.” Then he brushed past her into the room.

Esther’s eyes, wild with confusion, sought Silas’s. He stopped next to her, too, but he did not pass her by. Silas guided her hand through the crook of his arm. “It will be all right, my dear. He is home. How can we be anything but grateful?”

Her quick nod and pale face did little to reassure him. Having one’s brother come back from the dead, no matter how incredible and joyous such must be, was still something of a shock.

∞∞∞

Esther had to remind herself to breathe when she stepped into the study and Isaac stood inside the room, warming himself by the fire. He stood with the posture of a soldier, his hand stretched to the blaze and his back to them.

Alive. Her brother, the last of her family, alive before her. Did it matter so much that he had not returned whole? Not when the alternative had left her in a state of deep sorrow. Not when it meant he could be here with her instead of never being seen again.

“I am assuming it is all right for me to stay the night?” Isaac said turning to glance back at them with a mirthless smile. The dark shadows beneath his eyes and the hollows of his cheeks testified of his weariness. “You ought to know, the doctor said I had not yet recovered sufficiently for travel.”

Her throat closed up with regret and she looked up at Silas, her heart aching for her brother. They had not moved since closing the door behind them. Standing together, at the edge of the room, it seemed all they could do was marvel at the miracle before them.

The muscles in Silas’s jaws appeared to relax. “You are always welcome in my home, Isaac.” Then he drew Esther forward with him, escorting her to the couch. He gave her hand a gentle squeeze as she settled into the cushions.

Clenching her hands together, Esther stared with fixed attention at her brother, afraid if she looked away he might vanish.

Isaac left the fire to sit next to her, placing his hand over hers. “All is well, Essie. I am alive. Had I known you were misinformed, I would have crawled back from France the very moment I knew of it.”

“These have almost been the worst weeks of my life,” she admitted, then drew a steadying breath. “To have you home—it is a miracle, Isaac.” He released her hands and wrapped his arm around her shoulders instead, pulling her close. Esther studied the lines of his face, the new wrinkles around his eyes, the physical changes jarring her image of him. She had last seen him standing tall in his uniform, stiff and proud, a confident twist to his lips.

“I need never leave you again,” he said firmly. Then he seemed to recall something and looked up at Silas, then back to Esther. “But where are Hugh and Diana? Are you—are you not chaperoned?” When he directed his look at his sister, his tone changed to something more stern, she laughed in relief. Although never overly protective of her, Isaac had made it clear that he was her defender.

“It is worse than that,” Silas said as he took the chair nearest Esther’s side of the couch. He did not wear his emotions openly. It seemed he had retreated behind his mask of marble in light of their shocking good news. “Your sister and I are married.”

Isaac’s head jerked back, his gaze shooting to Esther’s. It would have been comical to see his eyes widen and his jaw hang slack had her circumstances not been the reason for his obvious shock. “Married?” he asked. “I had no idea—how long have you been courting? Why was I not informed?” He released Esther and pushed himself, wincing as he did, back to his feet. “What is going on?”

Did he not approve? Esther’s stomach turned over and she stared at the carpet. How much less would he approve when he learned why they had married?

“I wrote to you weeks ago,” Silas said, maintaining his stony expression. “I suppose you never received my letter.”

“Letters from home can often be lost or misdirected.” Isaac lifted his good shoulder and then rubbed his face with his hand. “Forgive me. The carriage ride has left me quite out of sorts. I need rest and my medicine.”

Cold dread suffused Esther. She sprang up from her seat. “We must see you tended to at once. I will not allow you to be uncomfortable or risk becoming ill. I have already mourned your loss and I do not intend to do so again.” She went to the bell-pull and rang for a servant, her hands shaking in her agitation.

Her brother moved with care, she noticed, as he went back to the hearth. He sighed deeply. “Essie, my man knows what to do. He was my batman the last year. I’m sure I wrote of him to you. The man is a natural nursemaid.” He chuckled, though the sound lacked real humor.