Page 27 of Rescuing Lord Inglewood

“Ah, that is a shame.” He approached slowly, leading his horse behind him. Lord Neil was a handsome enough man, with an athletic sort of look to him and the dark blond hair that many a woman might envy. But he always seemed more sly than sincere to Esther. “And where is your husband? I find it odd a newlywed would let his bride so far from his sight the day after exchanging vows.”

Despite her wishes, Esther’s cheeks bloomed hotly. “I am afraid Lord Inglewood has gone to London on some rather urgent business. But he will be back as soon as he is able.” She gestured to the Keep behind them. “And I am learning my way about the house without him underfoot.” It was a poor way to cover her shame at being left behind, so soon after her wedding. How many brides were immediately left by their new husbands?

She could not imagine it to be a common occurrence. Silas likely found her an entirely unsuitable choice as a wife. It was the only explanation for hiding her away at an estate so far from London. With his importance in government, his title, he could have married a more eligible woman. A woman he would not be ashamed to have on his arm as he went about in Society.

Her chest constricted. Silas was ashamed of her. Of how he had acquired such a woman as she for a wife. Really, what other explanation might there be? Why else would he leave her behind?

“I imagine husbands can be troublesome things,” Lord Neil said, his smirk turning in to an amused grin. “But wives must be the most helpful creatures in the world.” The flattery rolled off his tongue with ease and Esther barely managed to suppress a groan. She needed to get away from him. Needed to examine her thoughts and her husband’s motives.

“That remains to be seen in my case, my lord. My husband may come back to find I have thrown out all his favorite furnishings, or overturned the staff, or any number of domestic tragedies.” She forced a pleasant expression, though the temptation rose to make all those imagined threats a reality. “I must go back to the Keep now, my lord. I only meant to step out for a moment.” She gestured to her bare head as evidence of her words.

“Ah, then do let me escort you.” He kept the reins of his horse in one hand and offered his free arm to her. She reluctantly took his arm and hoped he did not sense her mood. Giving offense to one’s neighbors was never a wise idea. “Tell me,” he said once he secured her arm. “How is it to wander about in a place where you played as a child, now mistress of all?”

“It is rather like a dream.” Esther spoke airily, forcing herself to sound more like a London girl in her first season than a woman married. The man at her side would not take her seriously, no matter what she said or how she acted. She knew his sort quite well. “Every girl dreams of having such a beautiful home.”

Lord Neil grinned at her and continued speaking, extolling the virtues of living near the sea, of having a large house, strolling in the gardens, and every other inane aspect of such things. If they had not been in the open air, the man’s pompous attitude would have left Esther quite stifled.

When they arrived at her door, Lord Neil began to hint he wished for an invitation to enter. “I have not been inside this old pile of stones in years. If you would like an opinion as to how to redecorate, I am told I have an exceptional eye for furnishings.” He flashed what was doubtless meant to be a charming smile.

“That is so kind of you, Lord Neil, but I intend to suit Lord Inglewood’s tastes as much as possible, and I have no desire to change things quite yet. Thank you for your conversation this morning.” She curtsied low enough to avoid offending him, then slipped inside the door without opening it too widely.

When she shut the door behind her, she leaned heavily against it. The quiet house she had wished to escape had swiftly become a sanctuary.

Bailey, the butler, appeared from the door that led belowstairs. “My lady,” he said, bowing deeply. “A delivery has come for you and I wondered where you would like it put.”

Esther’s eyebrows shot upward. “A delivery? I cannot think what it might be. Is it large?”

The butler hesitated a moment before offering clarification. “It is a large crate from the village. His lordship sent for painting supplies this morning. I believe his words were, ‘Order everything one can use to paint.’ He also instructed Mrs. Larry to conduct a search of the house for anything that the family might already possess. She has gathered her findings in an upstairs sitting room for your use.”

Silas had done that for her? He had latched onto the idea of her painting with some fervor during their beach walk the day before, but she had not expected him to act on the idea with such swiftness. Despite her earlier misgivings, a tingle of pleasure made her heartbeat’s rhythm increase. “Then we had best take the delivery there as well, so I might sort through everything. Which room did you say?”

“The eastward facing parlor, my lady. It is a smaller sitting room.” He reminded her of where it was and Esther set off with some confidence of finding her own way. She only opened one wrong door, to what appeared to be a music room, before finding what she sought.

This particular sitting room had been a favorite among the mothers and guardians of the children who played at Inglewood. It boasted three large windows that stretched from ceiling to floor, allowing an easy view of the gardens below and the blue-gray line of sea beyond. Esther approached the windows slowly, with reverence. She held her breath as she took in the view, from the seabirds hovering in the air to the fishing boats gliding across the horizon.

The sound of shuffling feet made her turn in time to see two footmen carrying a long, narrow box. The top was already off the oddly shaped crate.

“If you would put it just here, please,” she said, indicating the sofa. They put the box down carefully and Esther looked inside to see why. Her eyes widened appreciatively, and she reached inside.

There was a box of paintbrushes, bottles of colors, a pestle and mortar should she wish to create her own, small jars, and a cleverly designed easel folded beneath it all. The footmen left after she offered them thanks, and she bent over the box happily sorting through everything. The selection was not what it would have been in London. Though she had not painted since coming to her stepbrother’s home, she had stared with longing at the papers, paints, and other accoutrements in the finest shops. Nevertheless, Esther’s excitement grew as she studied each and every object. There were oils, there were pastels, and then the watercolors. Her particular favorite.

After several minutes, Esther recalled that there were other things waiting for her in the room. She peered about, finally seeing a table against the wall stacked with jars, brushes, sketchbooks, pencils, an older easel, with several differently sized canvas frames leaning against the wall, and a stack of paper upon the table.

Silas had arranged all of it for her use. Her enjoyment.

Her heart stirred most dangerously and a blush rose into her cheeks. Though he left her behind, he had given her a way to pass their time apart, and it had been thoughtfully done.

Esther left the room in a hurry, going to her own to change. She intended to begin painting at once, to prove to Silas her gratitude.

Not even Isaac had parted with her in such a kind manner.

Chapter Twelve

The hours passed slower than Esther liked, but after two days of Silas’s absence a letter arrived from him. She accepted it with her breakfast tray in some surprise. They never promised to write each other, had never even spoken of letters, and her brother had given her to believe that all men were wretched correspondents.

She opened the letter to find Silas had sent it from a coaching inn his very first evening away. Had he thought she would need instruction on how to manage so soon? The very idea made her scowl, but as she read her attitude softened.

The letter was full of his own thoughts on being apart, and his hopes for what he might accomplish while away. He invited her to send him a list of anything she wanted from London, large or small. He expressed his hope that she would like her gift and might paint several works to hang in their home. He instructed her, insisted, that she enjoy herself in his absence. The letter, she realized, was full of the sort of things one might converse upon over breakfast with a friend.