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Chapter 6
It was past midnight, Felton knew it but, again, the nightmares had robbed sleep from him. Perched in a chair at the window, with a bottle of wine in his hand, he stared out into the darkness beyond. The outing with Esther had gone well, but he still wondered what had possessed him to pretend that she was his wife in the sweetshop.
“She played along perfectly though,” he murmured.
He wondered if she had opened the second book yet and discovered it to be eroticism. He had come across it once; a lady he had courted had been addicted to that novel. He had not known why until he had bought a copy of it himself and read it.
Perhaps it would give her ideas, birth secret desires… give her the bravery to experiment. He had not hidden his admiration for her body, so, now, if she did read it, and held those images in her head, the seduction would begin.
Perhaps she envisioned me as Nathaniel, perched between her slender legs and suckling at her breast.
A touch here and there, a compliment, and even find a way to steal a kiss. He would egg her on, plant images in her head, build the fantasy of romance, draw out the wanton lustful, creature he knew she truly was and get her to trust him. Then…ruinher.
A scruple of shame chilled his heart that he was going to do something as cruel as that to the lady but, then again, it was fair play.
No, fair play would be to get Esther to love me, but then discard her as callously as her brother did to my sister.
Toggling back between his integrity and the need for revenge, Felton set the wine aside. If Esther were ruined, she would never get a husband, while on the other hand, Catherine would have all the chances in the world to marry. It would be poetic justice to just have her believe there was more to the connection they had and then, just break it.
Unable to decide, Felton went back to bed and tried to reason with himself, to do just enough to make the cruel family know how it feels to play with someone’s heart.
He drifted off to another dream, only this time, instead of the flash of swords and the explosions of cannons, he was in a room with Esther, but she did not seem to know he was there. Her back turned to him and slowly, she did away with her wrapper, tossing it to the ground.
A few moments later, she loosened the strings of her night rail and the neck of it sagged over her back. Reaching up, she moved her dark hair from the back of her neck and the dress bared her flawless white skin. By teasing increments, the night rail slipped down until the garment pooled at her feet. With her delicate curves and flawless skin revealed, she was like a seductive water nymph rising from a spring.
She twisted a little and a glimpse of plump breast with an enticing dark nipple had his mouth watering for a taste. He could wager his wealth that her breast, would fit perfectly in his palm. If he tugged her close, his other hand would cup perfectly over her pert bottom.
But while he reached for her…she faded away.
Felton slowly opened his eyes to strong sunlight and a heart laced through with conflict. He was going to see Esther that evening and wondered if he should send word and cancel the drive to Hyde Park, but Esther seemed to be looking forward to it, and, possibly, he would be able to decide whether or not to ruin her when he saw her again.
He slipped out of bed and went to wash his face; that dream had rattled him, did he truly desire Esther, intimately?
Wrapped in his thick banyan, Felton went to his small dining room and felt pleased that the morning paper had been left. While shaking it out, he skipped over the news about France and others, knowing that nothing good would be coming from them.
What did catch his attention was the section in the gossip page from Jane Hill.As the ashes settle and universal order resets itself in the wake of the scandal from Lady Rushford’s ball last spring, this humble spectator wonders why Dame Nottingham turned a blind eye to Lord Mercer’s ignoble intention for her daughter, who was rumoured to be caught, ‘in flagrante delicto’, with such a Lord.
Both parties, however, have summarily denied the allegations but, can we all pretend not to notice that the Lady had not left her house in six months? Can there be a tiny Baby Mercer on the way? The humble citizen can only wonder. Either way, the questions abound, and no one is there to explain them, but no one can deny, there might be a fallen Lady, an unashamed Lord, and an illegitimate child amongst us.
His mind flashed back to when his mother had mentioned this lady, the worst gossip in London, and gritted his teeth hard enough that it was a miracle he was not swallowing dust.
He dropped the paper in disgust, and he rubbed his eye; what if this scandalmonger caught on to his and Esther’s dealings and blared it out to the world?
“Good Morning, My Lord,” his maid greeted. “May I get you anything?”
“A cup of coffee,” he replied. “And make it blacker than the Earl of Hell’s waistcoat, please.”
“Yes, My Lord,” she dipped out a curtsy and left for the kitchens.
He plucked the paper up again and looked over the words from this woman. If this busybody gossip got a hold of his and Esther’s situation, after the girl was ruined, Esther would be destroyed twice. She would never be able to show her face in society again.
That is if I decide to ruin her.
“Your coffee, My Lord,” the maid came in and rested the cup and saucer before him. “Cook is finishing breakfast, My Lord. Please ring when you are ready for it.”
“Thank you,” Felton replied.
Alone again, he finished his coffee and rifled through the paper again. There were announcements of public plays, musicals at Almacks, and open balls. Lastly, there was a private masquerade Boxing Day ball at Vauxhall, complete with fireworks and acrobats and the Lord who was hosting it, was one he knew.
