Page 41 of Rescuing Lord Inglewood

Still, she could not bring herself to fill her plate completely. She needed something in her stomach. The sweet scent of fresh jam, the softness of fresh bread, did not hold its usual allure. Even her favorite foods were dull and bland when her mind continually turned to the memory of her brother. How could it be true that he would never sit across a table from her again?

Esther’s fork clattered to her plate when a sob unexpectedly took her breath away. Thankfully, Mary had tucked several clean handkerchiefs about Esther’s person, up sleeves and even in her bodice. If Esther kept crying as she did, however, she would use up her entire stock in a single morning.

When she had better hold of herself, Esther sipped her lukewarm tea and left the table, ready to go in search of Silas. She stepped into the hall at the same moment he did. They both stopped, staring at one another. His handsome green eyes studied her openly, perhaps looking for evidence of their late night, or else finding the proof of her tears shed moments before.

Since he made no secret of his perusal, Esther studied him with the same level of intensity. The shadows beneath his eyes were not as pronounced as they had been the night before. His jaw looked as though he clenched it, somewhat uncomfortably, and it was clean shaven again. All in all, he appeared more presentable. Of course, wearing a coat and cravat made him immensely more put together than he had been last evening.

Her cheeks tingled, warming ever so slightly, as she thought back on his disheveled appearance. Of course, in her nightgown, she’d been in far worse a state.

Clearing his throat once, Silas started toward her. “Good morning, Esther. I hope you had the rest you needed.”

“Thank you. It was enough to begin my day, as you see.” She lifted her arms slightly, the gesture almost helpless. “I do not seem to be entirely in command of my emotions, however. I thought I ought to warn you before we stepped out of doors together.”

One corner of his mouth went upward, the curve of his smile faint yet charming. “I am glad I interpreted your message correctly. Truly, Esther, your talent is remarkable.”

“Not really.” Uncertain of his continued stare, she turned her attention to studying the folds of his cravat instead. “Watercolors are not exactly seen as fine art, nor are charcoal drawings and pencil sketches. I have tried my hand at oils, but they are far too fickle and demanding.”

The touch of his fingers on her chin surprised her into looking up again, as he doubtlessly intended. “It is a talent, my lady. Please do not belittle it. I looked forward to receiving your art. I studied each picture carefully, trying to determine your mood and your mind when you created it. Receiving something from you was my favorite part of each day.”

Her heart, tender and bruised, gave a pleasant sort of thump at the praise. “Thank you. That is most kind of you to say.” Her words came out softly, almost breathless.

Dropping his hand from her chin, Silas offered her his arm. “Shall we?”

“I need my hat. And gloves.” This time she spoke with more firmness, trying to recover from how she had spoken before.

“Of course. Everything will be at the entry as I instructed.” Everyone obeyed his commands. Finally, Esther took his arm. At the front door, Bailey and Mary stood. The butler with the earl’s hat and gloves, the maid with Esther’s things.

Once properly outfitted, Esther took Silas’s arm and they stepped outside. He did not ask for her preferred destination, but began at once toward the path which would lead them to the birch grove. Though the skies were overcast, the temperature remained pleasant and the wind had calmed since the day before. Still, Esther’s gratitude for the long sleeves and heavier material of her midnight blue gown was keen.

“What made you think to respond to my letters with artwork?” Silas asked, interrupting the comfortable silence.

Watching him from the corner of her eye, his genuine curiosity surprised her. He kept glancing at her, brows drawn down slightly and head tilted ever so slightly to one side.

“I cannot be certain what prompted it,” she said, then bit her lip.

“Ah. A falsehood.” He chuckled. “I remember once when you told us your nurse gave you permission to join us in our play. You bit your lip just like that and within minutes there she came, dressed all in black and shouting across the lawn at you as though you were escaped livestock rather than a girl of six or seven.”

“You remember that?” she asked, horrified. “That is dreadful, Silas.” And most unexpected. She hadn’t thought any of them took notice of her enough to recollect such a thing, though she clearly recalled the way the older children had gaped at her angry nurse, and how Isaac had hastily assured the servant he had nothing to do with his sister’s escape from the house.

They stepped beneath the canopy of the trees.

“It made a strong impression, I suppose.” He said the words lightly, and looked rather as though he wished to laugh. Of course he did. It must have been amusing to watch her try and fail, time after time, to join their little party.

“Isaac was never pleased when I attempted such things,” she said slowly, taking in the bright green of the leaves overhead. She hadn’t come back to this particular place since Sir Neil had found her. Being in such a secluded spot with him popping up unexpectedly had been less than desirable.

Her husband shrugged, his amusement fading at the mention of her brother. “I doubt he liked to see you in any kind of trouble.”

“More like he did not want me imitating his shadow.” Esther saw the clearing ahead, and she pictured the little boat sitting there before she saw it. “Invading his club.”

“I was always jealous of him,” Silas said, startling her enough that she stopped walking.

“You? Jealous of Isaac? Whatever for?” It was a strange thing for a man born to such privilege to say. Isaac was a humble baronet, without the lands and titles Silas held, without the status. Did boys envy such things? Even as children, she could think of no way that Silas had wanted for anything.

“I was. He had you. And the girls had each other. And Jacob came from a whole horde of brothers and sisters.” Silas stared down at her and his expression softened. “I thought all of them far more fortunate than I. They had friends forever about them, with their siblings, and when everyone went home at the end of the day, I was left alone.”

The image she held of Silas as a child, sitting by himself in the grand house behind them, gave her a twinge of guilt. As a child, she could do nothing about it. But she had never given thought to what his life was like when her parents packed Isaac and her up at the end of their days in the sunshine and took them home again. He hadn’t even had parents to speak to, his only company a cantankerous grandmother.

“We were not always close, you know,” Esther said, trying to banish the cheerless scene from her imagination. “He preferred your company, Jacob’s, and the Everlys’, to mine.” She released Silas’s arm and continued on the path, emerging from the trees into the overgrown grass. “I never understood it; at our home, Isaac was attentive and kind to me, but when we came near his friends I was the very last person he wished to be about.”