Page 17 of Rescuing Lord Inglewood

“Ruined us both, I think,” he said, unable to keep the somber tone from his voice. The truth weighed heavily on him. Their options were now severely limited. They had been gone from the main party for a long time, without chaperones or anyone to see what they were doing. If they returned, her in his coat and her clothing soaked through, there would be questions. If he took her back to the house in her current state, when the story spread, she would be ruined, and he marked a cad. If she returned on her own, and he back to the party, the suspicious and gossip-hungry members of the neighborhood would slander them both.

No matter what they did, Esther would bear the brunt of the condemnation.

She shivered and pulled his coat tighter about herself. He stood in his shirtsleeves, trying to puzzle the matter out. There was nothing for it.

“We cannot let you catch cold,” he said. “We need to get back to the meadow. A cart can take you home.” He held his arm out to her and she took it, though her gloves were wet and her fingers barely peeked out of his sleeves.

She said nothing, merely bowed her pretty head and trudged along beside him. The fire in her had been doused, and their hopes for living down the rumors were gone. Oh, his ability to walk away from the whole situation remained. She spoke truly when she said he might continue on as before, and his part in her ruination might be forgotten. His political enemies would bring it up from time to time, but the rest of the world would forget his involvement in her scandal.

But Esther Fox would not live it down. Her stepbrother would likely cast her off for a time, to protect his family’s reputation. Esther had nowhere to go. Isaac was still away, and a mere baronet could not cover the perceived flaws of his sister. Not the way Silas could.

There was only one thing to do, and Silas wondered if he was prepared to do it. Esther’s manner toward him minutes before, hostile and angry, gave him pause. Though she hadn’t always been like this. When she had saved him, less than ten days previous, she had been warm and kind. In her childhood, she had been quick to laugh and always eager to please.

They were halfway through the orchard when he came to his decision. Silas looked down at the woman on his arm, noting she had turned pale and her lips white. Yet despite the sodden hair hanging around her face, and the sad weight in her expression, she was quite beautiful.

A man could do much worse. And they were friends, of a sort. Isaac would likely approve of the match once he learned of it.

They emerged from the shade of the apple orchard and stepped into the sunlight of the meadow. People turned their way, there were shouts of surprise, gasps of horror. Silas maintained a stoic expression, acting as though escorting a woman wearing a dripping gown happened every day.

Mrs. Everly and one of her daughters rushed forward, clucking and fussing, asking what had happened.

“Miss Fox fell into the brook,” he said, voice raised enough that all who wished would hear. “She must go home at once, and the apothecary should be sent for. I cannot have my betrothed falling ill.” With those simple words he sealed their fate.

He heard Esther’s sharp intake of breath, felt her arm tighten around his, before she was swept away by women, taken to a cart. Silas followed.

Esther’s eyes met his when he put his hands on her waist to help her into the dog cart, and in their deep brown depths he saw more emotions than he could name. But the most obvious, the one that smote his heart, was despair.

His hands left her waist slowly, he almost spoke to her, but the cart jerked and started on its way. One of the Everly girls had climbed up beside Esther, giving her some company at least. Someone put the reins of his horse into his hands. He mounted almost mechanically, then looked down at last into the faces turned up in his direction. Mr. and Mrs. Everly appeared concerned. Their remaining daughter somewhat curious. But beyond them, he saw worry, surprise, and envy in the eyes of his neighbors.

Not one of them would guess correctly at his feelings on the matter. Of that he could be certain. He tipped his hat to them, then nudged his horse’s ribs to follow after the cart. The fine spring day had dissolved into something of a mess. But at least he acted with honor.

Chapter Seven

Dear Isaac,

I do not know what stories you will hear, as far away from London’s Society as I wish to be. You doubtless have more pressing matters on your mind as this war draws to a close. But I wished to tell you the truth of things, so you will not think less of me.

Esther stared down at the letter she had started a half dozen times since her soaking at the picnic. This time she sat at the table in the Everlys’ house, though she had been to London and attempted the same thing there between Diana’s lectures and forced shopping trips. It didn’t seem to matter how or where she tried to write, she could not bring herself to tell her brother about her foolishness. Impulsivity apparently ran in the family, given his purchase of a commission and her abrupt engagement.

The wedding was tomorrow. The matter had been much simplified when Silas said their banns need only be read in one church, as her family’s ancestral home and his were part of the same parish. That had been one of the few things he’d explained, more to Mr. Everly than to her. She’d sat in the study, in dry clothes with a blanket wrapped around her, while Silas spoke of the matter to her host.

Esther was given a day in bed before she was sent to London, a letter from Silas in her hands, to tell her stepbrother and Diana of the change in plans.

The days passed by in a blur, with no further word from Silas directed to her, but several notes passed between Hugh and the earl, including lists of what ought to be purchased for her in London. And money. Silas paid for everything. Dictated everything. Diana barely consulted Esther on more than her color preference of her gowns. As an earl, accustomed to people obeying him, perhaps Silas knew no other way to behave.

An earl. And Silas. Although she had hoped to find a comfortable marriage, she had not dreamed even once of marrying a high-ranking peer or her brother’s boyhood friend. A country gentleman, or a man of business like her stepbrother, as a husband had been a comfortable thought. Her only desire for marriage had been to attain one of mutual convenience and respect.

She did not know the first thing about being a countess. Thinking too long on the subject, of the responsibilities she knew nothing of, the time she would have to spend assisting Silas with his political work, made the world press in about her. Her chest grew tight, her throat closed, and she had to distract herself with something else entirely.

“Esther?” Diana’s voice called through the closed door just before she rapped upon it. “Esther, Lord Inglewood is here to see you.” The Everlys had generously provided rooms for Esther, Hugh and Diana, and nursery space for their four children.

Why would he want to see me? He hasn’t bothered himself with me since announcing our betrothal. She bit her tongue to keep from saying the words aloud. Their situation was her fault. She knew that. But she wished they might’ve talked of what was to come, spent some time learning about each other and what this marriage meant for them. Instead, Silas returned her to London and sent her instructions through her stepfamily.

He hadn’t heard a word she said to him the day of the picnic. Or if he had, he didn’t care to understand them.

Esther rose from her desk and stepped into the hall. Diana waited, foot tapping impatiently. She swept her eyes over Esther’s figure from the top of her head to her toes and nodded in satisfaction. “He is in the garden.”

It did not take long for Esther to navigate her way out of the house and into the gardens on the eastern side, already dipped in the shadows of the house at that hour of the day. She heard Silas speaking before she saw him and paused when she realized he was conversing with someone already. The last time she had eavesdropped, it had gained her nothing, yet she hesitated to interrupt a discussion already underway.