Page 21 of Rescuing Lord Inglewood

He stepped up into the carriage and sat across from Esther, watching her carefully. She folded her hands in her lap, over the little prayer book she had held during their ceremony. Her lovely gown suited her and the bonnet festooned with ribbons framed her face quite perfectly.

Dare he offer a compliment to her? Thinking back, he had not said enough kind things to her in regard to her person. Everything between them had been hasty, from her moment of rescue to their wedding. Perhaps Esther’s standoffish manner came from marrying a man who had never once attempted to woo her.

“You are most lovely today, Esther,” he said at last. Women appreciated pleasant compliments. He knew that much. Despite his lack of experience in the realm of courtship.

“Thank you,” she said shortly. Her chin tipped up and her head turned to look out the window. “When are you leaving for London?”

She had batted his compliment out of the air with less gentleness than a cat striking at a sparrow. “Tomorrow morning. There is a great deal going on in Parliament, and I must be on hand.”

She said nothing to that; her eyelashes did not even flicker. Had they not been sitting two feet apart, he might have wondered if she heard him. He continued speaking, though he doubted his words breached the distance between them. “Esther, I will return as swiftly as I am able. I promise. The time you have at the Keep without me—well, you should think of it as a holiday.”

One of her eyebrows raised and her nostrils flared. “A holiday?” At last. A reaction.

“Yes. You can begin to learn your duties if you wish, but it is not necessary yet. You can redecorate. Take walks through the woods and on the beaches.” He stretched his memory backward, trying to remember what the school girl had done to pass the time while Isaac and Silas, with Jacob of course, went hunting and sailing. There had been a handful of times, he thought, when she had worn a smock splotched with color.

“Do you still paint?” he asked, hoping he was correct.

Her face turned towards his, her eyebrows pulling down into a V. “You remember that?”

“I do.” Thankfully. He kept his relief from showing by tightening the muscles in his cheeks. “Get all the supplies you need and paint. Take this time as a respite. When I return, we will discuss everything.”

Her expression closed again. “What is there to discuss?”

He shifted in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest. “Our marriage. Your role. Mine. The future.”

“I would assume much goes without saying,” she said quickly, lowering her eyes to her lap. He watched as her cheeks pinked. “We are man and wife. You will tell me what you wish done with your home, in society, and I will comply. Is that not how it goes?” She cleared her throat. “And you will want an heir.”

Heat crawled up his neck and into his ears. His voice betrayed his discomfort with the subject, growing slightly hoarse. “Yes, I hope for an heir. For children. Eventually.”

She made no comment, but he saw her hands tighten around her little book. Guilt made the heat in his body fade. He averted his eyes while he cleared his throat. “We can discuss that later, Esther. Please, do not let it disturb you now.”

Esther nodded, but her posture and grip on her book did not relax. What could he say? What ought he to do to help her begin her new role in life without anxiety?

“I know this is not the marriage you sought for yourself,” he said slowly, wondering why he felt the need to apologize. His actions had saved her. Saved both of them. And as an earl he claimed a respectable standing in society. Yet, in the moment the words slipped from his lips, he wondered what she had hoped for in a marriage.

Why hadn’t she married yet? At twenty, there must have been some offers. While not a woman from a higher tier in the nobility, Esther’s attractiveness and the size of her dowry ought to have tempted any number of men to her side. Of course, he had never heard of her being out in society. Not really.

“I cannot imagine,” she said, bringing him back to the present concerns, “that this is the marriage you wanted, either. Your grandmother always spoke of great things for you. Marrying the sister of a baronet hardly qualifies.”

His grandmother. He tried not to think on her too often. She had been a cold, calculating woman with a greater interest in his title than his well-being. No. The former dowager countess would not have approved of his marriage to Esther. In fact, she likely would have insisted he cast her aside. She had meant for him to marry a woman with an impeccable family tree, full of lords and ladies who graced the annals of British history.

The thought of thwarting those mercenary plans made him smile.

“Is something amusing?” His new bride peered at him with curiosity. “I cannot say I have seen you smile like that since this drama began.”

His amusement dried up almost at once, and her interest faded with the same speed. She turned away again. The clopping of horseshoes on the road filled the silence between them. His thoughts went back to Esther’s position, and he wondered again if she’d ever had hopes for a different gentleman to make an offer. He had to know.

“Esther,” he said at last, sitting forward slightly. “Did you have any plans for your future? Was there—I never asked—was there any gentleman courting you?”

“It hardly matters now.” Her answer wasn’t an answer, and her profile gave him no indication of her feelings. “You did not ask me anything, if you will recall. I presume that is the way of things for you.”

He sat back, her quiet words condemning him. His desires, his plans, always went the way he wished. If his position did not get him exactly what he wanted, he found other ways, through connection and money. How could he make her understand that he had done what he thought best for both of them?

Perhaps she had loved another. Romantic love had become more sought after than in previous generations. His grandmother always scoffed at the idea. The elite members of society always married for clearly defined purposes. Alliances, land transfers, moving a fortune into one’s own coffers in exchange for a favor when the time was right. Matches were still negotiated in such a way, though the thin veneer of romance covered most, with nights at Almack’s and public courtship fooling the naive into thinking there was more to the joining of two people than the mutual benefits to their families.

Somehow, he doubted Esther wished to discuss the philosophy of marital arrangements. The last time she had shown interest in their conversation had been—

“Painting.” He said it so suddenly, and louder than necessary, that she startled and looked at him with widening eyes. “You will paint while I am gone?”