Page 31 of Rescuing Lord Inglewood

“But he did ask you.” She did not shrug off Grace’s hand. She had no wish to hurt the woman’s feelings, though her own grew brittle. “Marvelous.”

Grace’s hand fell away and she looked to Jacob with a pleading expression.

“He did ask that we look in on you, make certain you were well. Because he cares about you, Esther. You are his wife.”

“And you are all his friends. Yes, I understand.” She understood too well. Grace’s kindness doubtless would have brought her to visit, and perhaps Hope too. But she and Jacob had almost nothing in common except for Isaac and Silas. All three of Esther’s visitors had been prompted by Silas to pay their respects, to check on her well-being. She felt like a child with a nursemaid left to mind her.

Esther’s emotions began shifting dreadfully fast. “Thank you for coming to see me today. It was a relief to share my news.” She forced a smile, ignoring the heat growing in her cheeks.

The others shifted, murmuring polite phrases she barely heard. A long moment of silence passed after, then Jacob offered to escort the Everlys home. They took their leave, their farewells slightly stilted.

Somewhat numb, Esther gathered up a sketchbook and charcoal sticks, then fled the house for the gardens. The fresh air and sunlight, shining somewhat weakly through the clouds, brought her back to herself. She sat on a bench, heedless once more of her bonnet, and started sketching a bird she spied in the trees. She had barely begun, however, when the bird flew away. Her hand hovered over the paper for several long moments before she dropped it.

Esther leaned back against the bench and tilted her head back, trying to drink in what warmth she could from the weak sunlight.

Hope, Grace, and Jacob meant well. They were kind and they had all grown up near one another. But the physical proximity had never transformed into a friendship. Perhaps it might have, if Esther and Isaac’s mother hadn’t remarried before Esther came out in Society. She would have been a peer to the Everlys, at the least.

They were not her friends. They were Silas’s. Even the affection that had sprung up between herself and the Everlys was due to Silas sending her to their home during her exile from London. An exile she had never truly returned from, as she had only spent enough time in London to secure clothing befitting an earl’s wife.

Was that why Silas wrote to her, day after day? To assuage his guilt on that account? He knew quite well how limited the society was in their part of Suffolk.

There truly was no other explanation for his actions. He was ashamed of her. He did not trust her as his wife, to uphold his reputation, to reflect well upon him. Leaving her behind at the very edge of the country, her back to the sea, had limited her movements and ability to impact his status for good or ill.

Her stomach twisted and rolled unpleasantly. Though she hated the idea, her mind clung to it. The reasoning made too much sense. Silas had married her, as honor and duty demanded, and to do his friend a favor. If Silas hadn’t wed her, Isaac would be stuck with a spinster sister. She cringed as everything fell more neatly into place. He went to London as much to get away from her as to fulfill his obligations. He set his friends as nursery maids to check in on her. He gave her paints and a house to distract her. All while making certain she was far from gossiping tongues and Society’s judgmental stares.

Tears leaked from her closed eyes and down her cheeks, cooling them as they burned with shame.

Esther drew her feet onto the bench and brought her knees up to wrap her arms around them, holding herself tightly.

A drop of rain struck her on the arm, and then another on the back of her neck. She opened her eyes to the sky above, seeing the hazy clouds had grown into deep gray thunderheads. She did not move, though drop after drop fell upon her. The cold rain felt marvelous against her skin.

Isaac would return home soon. She clung to that thought tightly, calling forth the excitement that had filled her when she first read the news. She almost smiled.

If only she hadn’t been a fool at that picnic. She would have been able to go to the Fox home and make it ready for him. But now, a servant to her husband’s will, she could only remain exactly where she was until Silas returned.

The rain fell faster, drenching her hair and dress. Finally, she gathered up her damp sketchbook and walked back inside, heedless of her dripping skirts. She would dress for bed, though it was early, and have a tray sent to her room.

After all, what did it matter what she did, or how she did it, when she was all alone?

Chapter Fourteen

The letters from Silas continued. Though it would serve him right to receive no replies, Esther’s knowledge of household gossip prevented her from ignoring him. But while she refused to write long epistles full of all her doings, she did send more of her work. After her realization about Silas’s motives for installing her at Inglewood Keep, Esther sent a piece that would mean nothing to him, but expressed her feelings quite succinctly.

It was a charcoal rendering of her childhood home, heavy with shadows and an overcast sky. She put one word beneath it. Home. Let him make of that what he wished.

The news from the Continent remained positive, full of accounts about the Parisian people rejoicing in the streets.

At least England had not faced any battle upon its shores. She could not imagine what it had been like to be at the very center of the wars and death as an ordinary citizen. Thinking of what Isaac had been through made her shudder.

Why had he not yet written? The papers were publishing letters from common soldiers day after day. Mail had no difficulty getting from the battlefront to London. Surely Isaac had something to say to her, even if only to express his opinion of her marriage.

Esther paced the garden, her thoughts on her brother, a faint sense of uneasiness building. The casualty lists gave her no reason to suspect he had fallen. She had checked every one herself, and she always sighed with relief and a sense of guilt when she did not see his name among so many others.

“I see you have your bonnet this time, my lady.” A cheerful voice interrupted her thoughts.

Thankfully, Esther faced away from the unwanted guest, so he did not see the way she scrunched up her nose at hearing his voice.

“Lord Neil.” She tried to form an expression of genteel welcome before she turned, not smiling too wide, remaining somewhat aloof. How Silas kept such an expression upon his face almost continually she would never know.