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Chapter 11
What in mercies names could have possessed me to ask her to go sledding?
The thought kept circling Felton’s mind as his carriage came to rest at the gate of the Green Park. He looked over to Esther, who held her skates in a box on her lap, and she was gazing out to the gate with awe painted over her face.
The small spattering of freckles over her nose - spots that many ladies would have used every concoction known to man to eradicate as they are deemed hideous - looked enchanting to Felton. His hand ached to reach out, cup her cheek, smoothing his thumb over her cheekbone, and kiss her—but did he have the right to?
Felton was not sure he should touch her with all the doubts he carried, and the sense of burgeoning regret lingering at the edge of his mind. He remembered his oath the other day to not ruin her, but only to shame her—now, was that even an option? Did she deserve it?
“You mentioned a love for skating,” Felton said as he opened the door and stepped out. Holding out his hand to her, he added, “When was the last time you have.”
Esther’s dainty gloved hand, laid on his, was slender and delicate, just like the rest of her. “Over four years.”
“Are you confident you’ll skate?” Felton asked, “You can sit away, if you are not sure.”
She looked up with a brow ticked up, “You doubt my prowess, good sir?”
“I’m only concerned for your safety; I would not want you to get hurt,” Felton replied, trying hard to not flinch from the irony of his words.
Esther gripped his palm, and gave him a sassy look, “I won’t get hurt.”
“Well, that is for later today,” Felton turned to the sleigh waiting for them. The majestic horses had festive red and green plumes perched from their headgear, and the pale sun shimmered over the glossy black surface of the coach that was waiting for them. “Please.”
He helped her into the sleigh and joined her, “Do you like winter?”
“When it is not bitterly cold, yes,” Esther replied, while tucking her cashmere scarf tighter into her coat. “As children, John and I would play outside in the snow, building snowmen and skating. John had the grace of a three-legged horse, so he rarely skated, but we thoroughly enjoyed winter. On the harshest winters, Mother took us to the seaside towns where it was warmer.”
“Seems to me you had a fun childhood,” Felton replied.
Her head cocked a little, “Hadn’t you?”
“My father passed when I was a boy, and as I said, I passed most of my days at Eton and Oxford, and I wouldn’t say spending days on end with a group of rowdy boys was fun. But there was that winter…”
The sled was making its way into the park, heading towards the newly erected Temple of the Concord, and Esther leaned into him, “What aboutthatparticular winter?”
Felton laughed and told her a riveting tale of how he and a few of his friends had concocted the fabulous idea of stealing a bottle of port from their headmaster’s room. He told her how almost everything imaginable had gone wrong, from one of the boys breaking a window and another one almost tramping on the man’s cat on the way out.
“Were you found out?” Esther laughed.
“I think it would be obvious when a bunch of eleven-year-old lads are totally foxed,” Felton replied. “So yes, we were found out and punished to the harshest letter. No one was expelled though, and no one was forced to re-buy the bottle and, thank all mercies, the headmaster made no mark of it on my recommendation to Oxford.”
Esther pressed a hand to her mouth, “I would have loved to see that.”
Pausing to look at the arches of the temple, Felton then said, “It was not a pretty picture, and it taught me a lesson. Never once, in my adult life, have I allowed myself to drink to excess.”
“Nothing half that exciting happened at my school, you know, aside from those unfounded rumours that one of them was going to marry Indian Royalty. Nor did anything happen in finishing school. I wish I had a riveting tale to tell you.”
“No need,” Felton shook his head. “In case His Grace has not told you, I had a fascinating conversation with him last night. He—”
“Please,” Esther rushed to stop him. “I know what happened; he told me this morning, but I want you to know that nothing he said has or will have any impact on what we have. I am sorry he did that, and please know that he does not speak for me.”
Felton’s eyes silently traced over her face, and instead of saying anything regarding her statement, he only squeezed her hand in agreement. “How about we recreate one of your best childhood moments today?”
“And what would that be?”
His grin was a bit feline, “We shall wait to see.”
Half an hour later and after the sled had made its way through a good part of the park, Esther patted another lump of snow on the snowman that she and Felton had hobbled into some semblance to a human figure. Its base round was more oval than circular, its top half a square, and it's head a misshapen clump.
