Page 16 of Rescuing Lord Inglewood

She turned her head toward the water, presenting him with her rather elegant profile. Her maturity surprised him, and her beauty had taken him aback when he saw her last. She hadn’t even been at her best, after she sustained that head injury on his behalf. But now, recovered and energetic, with her cheeks pink and her posture setting off her figure quite well, he found her completely enchanting.

“Esther?” he said, taking her use of his Christian name as permission to use hers. “What have I done to offend you?” He put as much gentleness in his words as possible, coaxing her to soften.

“You have only done what everyone always does to me,” she said, her words more resigned than forceful. He supposed that was a step in the right direction. “You have decided what is best, removed my troublesome person from one place to another, and treated me as though I have no opinion of my own. I am quite used to it, you know. People treat children and baggage as I have been treated.”

It sounded dramatic, but also rather sad. Was that truly how Esther saw herself? Looking back on his actions, he supposed he could understand. To an extent. Women were meant to be protected by the men in their lives. He had acted decisively, in order to defend her. But he had not taken the time to speak to her directly, to help her understand his plan was for her own good.

“I think you misunderstand,” he said, putting his arms behind his back and standing at his full height. “I do apologize for that. I hoped your stepbrother and his wife would explain the matter to you.”

She raised her eyes to his, one corner of her mouth rising with obvious skepticism. Good. He needed her full attention.

“After you saved me,” he began with confidence, “tongues began to wag, in both our social circles. Though none doubted your heroism who saw it, those not present had a different opinion of what occurred. I will not hurt your sensibilities by explaining—”

“My name is in a book at White’s, with yours, and people are talking about how I laid atop you, in broad daylight, on the street. Yes, Silas. I know.” She rose to her feet, clenching the handkerchief in one hand while the other pointed at his chest accusingly. “What I do not understand is why you became the person to decide my fate. Why did you banish me from London and my stepbrother’s family? Who, exactly, put you in charge of my well-being?” She tapped his chest with her finger on the last word.

Silas stared down at her, his mouth hanging open until he realized it and snapped it shut. “It is my duty as a friend—”

“If it had not been Isaac’s little sister who saved you,” she said, eyes aflame, “you would not have gone to all this trouble.” She threw up her hands and walked to the brook’s edge. “Thank you, very much, for proving once more that I have little of my own merit and must borrow others’ to be of any value.”

What the deuce could she mean? Politics were easier to understand than this woman was, and that thought disturbed him. While not exactly on the hunt for a wife, Silas thought he mostly understood the gentler sex’s motives. At least when it came to him. Like Miss Keyes, preying upon him for a title and wealth. Of course, he had never had a woman openly angry with him. And for something she ought to be thanking him for.

“Miss Fox—”

She laughed, without much humor. “Are we to be formal again? That must mean you have a lecture for me.”

He snapped his mouth shut. He had been preparing a lecture on the subject of gratitude. Given her current state, it would do little good. How could a woman so lovely be so vexing? What had worked to get her out of such moods in their childhood?

Nothing that would be appropriate now.

They stood in silence, the only sound that of the water tumbling along on its course toward the sea. Several small tributaries in the area made their ways to the beaches, spilling into the greater body of water. Silas stared at the clear stream and took in a deep, calming breath. That at least was pleasant, as the air here smelled strongly of apple blossoms.

Apples. The picnic. Had they been gone too long?

“Miss Fox, whatever indignation you feel, however you think you have been slighted, I do not think this is a topic for us to discuss today.” She snorted, practically interrupting him. “We need to return to the rest of the party.”

“Why?” she asked, turning to face him. “For more playacting? To pretend to be the oldest of indifferent acquaintances?”

He opened his mouth, prepared to coax her into returning. Why was she being so difficult?

Esther surprised him, going back to the log and stepping atop it. “I realize you are trying to control an undesirable situation,” she said, stepping lightly across the mossy log. “It is possible your reputation may suffer, being linked to a nobody such as myself. But then again.” She tossed his handkerchief over her shoulder. “Perhaps this is fortunate. Because I will be forgotten soon, whether or not my reputation is ruined, and then you may go back to your business.”

“Miss Fox,” he said, taking a step nearer her. “Esther. Come down from there.”

“Why?” she asked, turning to face him, her half-boots pulling some of the moss on their heels. “Did you know Isaac never let me cross this log? He always made me turn back. He said I was too little, and I would fall.” She turned back to her task, crossing over the water. As it was spring, and rainy, the water was at least three feet deep. It wasn’t dangerous, but it would be terribly inconvenient if she slipped.

“Your boots are not made for that, Esther,” he warned, coming closer. She stood at the halfway point, her arms spread wide for balance. “And if you fall—”

He did not get to finish the sentence, because at that moment she let out a yelp, her boot slid down the side of the mossy trunk, and she flipped into the water, completely submerging.

Silas didn’t waste breath on a curse, though he thought plenty, as he rushed to the water to assist her. Esther popped up again almost instantly, spluttering, and trying to push her wet hair from her face.

“It is c-c-cold,” she whimpered, hurrying forward, sloshing water about as she scurried over the rocks. She slipped once, falling to her knees. Silas came several steps into the water, reaching for her forearms. He pulled her upward and guided her out of the water, his gloves and the sleeves of his coat immediately soaked from touching her.

Everything she wore was soaked through. Her bonnet, the shawl dripping from around her shoulders, and her gown.

He swiftly averted his stare, looking anywhere but at Esther while he took off his coat.

“I am a fool,” she said as he settled the mostly dry coat upon her. “Oh, Silas, what have I done?”