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“Good morning, My Lord,” the footman bowed. “A parcel was received for you from Lady Harewood. It is placed in your study.”
“Thank you,” Felton said, then took the stairs to the rooms above, and found himself dreading opening the package.
On his desk was a box wrapped with suede, and he opened it with trepidation; laying inside were a set of simple but elegant cufflinks, a silk cravat, and a pin that was the same style of the cufflinks. The apprehension in his chest vanished because he had feared that she had sent him something personal.
But still, he sank to the chair and, with an elbow braced on the arm of the chair, rubbed his forehead. Things were getting so murky, and the lines were being blurred beyond recognition. Closing the box, his head fell back, and his eyes clenched tightly—Catherine, Catherine held the key to all his misery, and she was away from him.
There are three days to Christmastide—unless they had run off to Gretna Green, she will be home for me to question her.
The realization that he still had to wait, soured Felton's stomach. Three days seemed as daunting as a hundred years—but what could he do? He had to wait… even it tore him apart during the process.
***
Seated in a window seat, Esther closedThe Countercharmand placed her palm flat on the back cover. In the end, Adelaide had found true love, and Esther hoped that soon, she would too. Her mind flitted to Captain Morgan and wondered if he had received the gift she had sent.
Her lips ticked down for a moment with regret that she had not been able to send him something personal as everything she had considered—a bauble, a trinket, and even one of her kerchiefs—all felt trite. She hoped the jewellery would not be taken as her trying to match his gift.
Lifting her hand, her fingers traced the circlet on her wrist, and she smiled. At that point, she could not see herself with anyone else than him. Even if the Captain did not accept them—which she could not see why—she did have more to offer—her heart.
Because she did have something to offer to him—her heart. Esther remembered just a day ago, building the snowman with Captain Morgan; it had been something utterly juvenile that she would have never expected him to indulge in—but he had done it. She remembered looking up to him as he gazed upon their lopsided creation with silent pride.
His expression then, still somewhat stoic; but Esther had seen through it and the underlying gleam of happiness in his eyes. She knew that Captain Morgan would not be the man he was without his self-control and his reserve, but she knew one more thing; the man was alone.
All the tales he told her about his family, about being the only son to a father who had died early on, said to her that loneliness had been a part of his make-up from when he was a child. Who was there to love him? Who was there to show him that there was more to life than just survival and fleeting day to day happiness?
In that moment, gazing up at his relaxed jaw and happy eyes, Esther had known—without a shadow of a doubt, she had entirely and inescapably in love with Captain Morgan.
I just hope he won't turn me away.
“Ah, Ether,” John’s voice cut through her thoughts, and she turned to him. He walked in, while fixing his cuffs, “I’ve been looking for you. Since the other day when you emphatically told me not to interfere with your affairs without prior notice, I am telling you this now. I am going to London to the Naval Office. I want a check upon this Captain of yours.”
Esther nearly tumbled off the window seat in her rush to get to John. “No!” She said, while righting herself. “Why would you do something as underhanded as that!”
His brow ticked up, “To make sure he is not a charlatan or a fortune seeker. If his finances are in the ruin, what better way to climb out of it than marrying a Duke’s sister?”
