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Chapter 14
When Arthur came back to her, Esther saw that his armour's figurative cracks had been sealed. His expression was calm and controlled while he sat near her.
“I apologize,” he said evenly. “I needed a moment to collect myself.”
“I understand,” Esther replied, kindly. “I don’t blame you—I was a little shaken as well.
Behind her, she heard the musicians start up another dance. Esther smiled sweetly. “I am so glad you returned in time for another dance. Or would you prefer to wait for this one out?”
“If you don’t mind, I’ll wait for the last,” Arthur replied. “I think we should converse a little. You have not told me the four traits you admire in a man.”
“Does it matter?” Esther said, “You have all of them, honesty, bravery, valour, strength, and humility. You agreed to fight for our land, so you have courage, you fought in the war, you are brave, and not once have I seen you shrink from facing a challenge. And you do not put on airs, Arthur. Never once have I heard you using your time in the war as boasting.”
His lips ticked down, and displeasure added a line to his mouth, “For good reason, I want to put the time in the war behind me. It is not a time I want to remember; yes, it has shaped me in many ways, but it is nothing to use against anyone.”
“Which is why I admire you,” Esther replied.
His mouth worked a little, and more than once, she saw that he was about to say something, but he cut it off. Esther was about to ask, when she saw his eyes flicker to Margaret, her silent companion, and realized that the words on his tongue were ones he wanted only her to hear.
Turning to Margaret, she asked. “Margaret, would you please get me a glass of water? I am a bit parched. Arthur, would you like anything?”
“No, thank you,” he said.
Standing, Margaret curtsied, “Yes, My Lady.”
When she moved off, Arthur turned appreciative eyes to her, “You pick on the smallest hints, do you not? I want to ask you, to come with me to Vauxhall tomorrow evening.”
Glancing over her shoulder to see if Margaret was coming, she said, “I don’t know, Arthur. I have heard whispers about that place, and none of them are good. Isn’t it called a pleasure garden for a reason? Mother would never let me go there.”
He dared to brush his fingers across her cheek, before taking her hands, “Think about it, I just need to have you to myself alone and away from the judging eyes of others.”
Spotting Margaret coming to them, Esther pledged, “I’ll send word if I can.”
He did not pull away until Margaret joined them, “Here you go, My Lady.”
Retracing her hands, she took the drink, “Thank you.”
Without prodding, Arthur told her about a quaint village in Africa where the locals had given them food when their stores had run empty and the lovely Spanish town where music was always in the streets.
Enraptured, Esther barely noticed when the last dance was called before supper and when Arthur swept her off to the floor, his compelling gaze shifted from hers only a few times to dip to her lips. A time or two or three, his flat palm had caressed her spine the tiniest bit. Those involuntary hints told her that he wanted her—just as much as she wanted him.
When the dance ended, Arthur took her hand and kissed the back, “I regret it, but I will not be able to stay for dinner.”
Her stomach plummeted, but at least he had come at all. “Oh, sorry to see you go. I do wish you wouldn’t.”
His thumb traced over the back of her hand with tiny circles, “Hopefully, I will see you tomorrow night…?”
Thinking of the activities her mother always had planned for Boxing Day, Esther began to make tentative plans on what she could do. “My Mother’s tradition is to attend church in the morning and a play in the evening. I—I do think I can sneak out. I will send a message to you by tomorrow afternoon.”
Satisfaction removed the crinkle of worry from his brow, and Arthur gifted her with a rare, heart-warming smile. “I will be looking forward to it. Good night, Esther. Give Her Grace, my regards.”
He ushered her back to her seat and said his farewells to Margaret before heading away. Esther’s eyes followed him as he left and, when his back disappeared around the corner, turned to Margaret. She tore her eyes from the doorway. “I should go to dinner.”
A flash of sympathy crossed Margaret’s face, “Yes, My Lady.”
***
It was after midday when Esther stepped foot back in her home, faking a narrow squint to the light as she had pleaded a headache on the way back.
