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Without hesitation, Esther consented.
With her arm in his and Miss Smith trailing behind, he led her to the edge of the water. The pond had not frozen over which was rare to see, but he bet by the dead of winter it would become a block of ice. The rushes waved with the soft breeze and a few birds flew overhead.
While Felton was trying to translate his thoughts to words, the tranquil silence was broken by the splash of a lone duck, weaving through the weeds.
“That is strange,” Esther said, “Why is it out of its nest?”
“I believe it’s a mother,” Felton replied, after a quick examination of the animal, “Look how it is ducking here and there? It is searching for food, probably for its young who are trying to survive in a hostile environment…”
His memory flitted back to times when they were in the middle of an ocean with little but old bread and his wits to survive, and on land, in the middle of enemy territory and fearing every second of his life.
“…A feeling I know all too well,” Felton added wanly.
Esther’s hand closed around his and he cocked his head to look at her, “I hope you’re not being sorry for me, My Lady?”
“Esther,” she corrected softly. “Please call me, Esther.”
“I would love to if you would call me Arthur,” Felton replied while covering her hand with his and stroking his fingers over the back of her hand.
“Do you think you’ll be called back into the service?” Esther asked carefully.
Stifling a shiver of horror, Felton shook his head, “No, I’m retired. They cannot come for me, even if they want to,” turning, he held her close, “shall we resume our ride?”
“Yes, please,” Esther gave him a pitying look that curdled something in his stomach.
Going back to the carriage, they went in and Felton closed the door. With a quick rap to the roof, the vehicle went off again. “My Lord, erm, Arthur. Now that you are retired, what do you think you will do from now on?”
“I am not thinking that far ahead; I just want to dispel the nightmares and—” his lips clamped shut at the unwitting admission. Esther had gone pale and her mouth slipped open in shock. “—and eventually, find employment that won’t bring back the worst of my memories.”
Esther was clutching her skirts in worry, “You don’t sleep.”
With a grimace, Felton admitted, “Barely. I have been told balms and tinctures like laudanum might help, but I am not going to dull my judgment and get my body dependent on a substance that will fail one day. Please do not fret about it, I’ll be fine.”
“I—” Esther paused, “Is there anything I can do?”
“Thank you for offering,” Felton dipped his head. “And yes, there is something; if we can move on from this conversation, I would be grateful.”
Plucking at her skirts, Esther said, “The festive month is soon upon us. Do you have plans for Christmas, Arthur?”
“Sadly, no,” Felton shook his head.
Brightening, Esther added, “Then you can attend my family’s ball and dinner. We have one every Christmastide. The house is filled with fragrant yule logs, wine, happiness, and mistletoe branches. Please say you will attend?”
I have another idea; we will go to Vauxhall, but how will I convince you to leave your family and celebrate with me—privately?
“Thank you for the invitation,” Felton said, “It sounds wonderful.”As the carriage left Hyde Park, he added, “Shall I treat you two to some hot chocolate? There is a delightful eatery I’ve found on Mayfair.”
***
Peeling his coat off while stepping into his mother’s home, Felton castigated himself for sharing a secret with Esther that not even his mother knew. After he had treated the women to hot chocolate and cake, he had carried them home and made for his mother’s home. He needed a diversion before he went home, and, there, in the quiet, he would be forced to think about the day.
He usually had a tight rein on his personal affairs, so he was confused about how that secret had slipped from his lips.
Mayhap it is not a bad thing—it might garner some sympathy from her as well.
“Good evening, My Lord,” a footman bowed.
Nodding tersely, and thanking him, Felton went to find his mother—but found Catherine and Rawden instead in a drawing-room. His eyebrows met his hairline in surprise at Rawden’s hand resting over Catherine’s.
