Page 42 of Rescuing Lord Inglewood

“Ah, now that I think I understand. I spoke to Jacob about it once. He came to visit, walked all the way to Inglewood Keep on his own. I asked why he hadn’t brought his older brothers, or anyone younger than him.” Silas stopped walking at the edge of the clearing, his eyes falling to the boat he had dragged into the trees so long before.

“What did he say?” she prompted when he remained quiet.

“He said that he wanted something of his very own. A friend no one in his family could claim. A place just for him.” He sighed, a tired sort of smile appearing upon his face. “I suppose when you are used to sharing everything, as he was in a family of eight, you must want to make something that is only your own. Perhaps it was the same with Isaac. He adored you, but he wanted time to be himself and not an older brother.”

Esther shook her head and went to the boat, lifting her skirts to step inside as she had on her last visit. “He never did like looking after me when there were more exciting things to be done.” She sat down on the bench seat. “This is only the second time I’ve ever stepped into this boat. The first was directly after you left.”

“Really? I thought you came out here with us a time or two.” Silas stepped close to the boat and knelt by its side, inspecting the faded writing. “The Silver Birch Society. I forgot we called ourselves that. For several summers.”

“It was the very worst thing to do, making a club when I could not join it,” she said with a prim tone. “I always thought when I was a little older I might be inducted in, but by that time you had all changed your interests to horseback riding and fishing.” It seemed silly to remember that childhood injustice when she had married one of the boys she always followed after. With her brother gone. She would never shadow him again.

“We ought to induct you now,” Silas said. Kneeling as he was by the boat, next to her side, she looked downward into his handsome face. The expression he wore, the gentle smile and raised eyebrows, made her skin tingle as it had when he kissed her cheek. The sensation of being looked at in such a way pleased and startled her. She had been noticed. By someone who mattered.

Tucking her skirts around her more carefully, using it as an excuse to look away from her husband’s kind eyes, Esther forced a laugh. “That is most unnecessary. We are all grown men and women. It doesn’t matter anymore.”

He hummed, a short sound she could not be sure signaled agreement with her. Then he stood and walked around the boat. “I ought to have this dinghy sanded and repaired.”

“Whatever for?” she asked, blinking up at him in surprise. “It will never go on the water again.”

“I know. Perhaps someday, there may be other children who wish to play upon it.” His matter-of-fact answer surprised her and brought a blush to her cheek. What children could he be speaking of if not theirs?

Esther smoothed her skirts, wishing she had a way to keep her hands busy. Or that she was not sitting in order to wander away from him without it appearing obvious she had no wish to broach the subject of children with him. Not yet.

Silas had finished circumnavigating the boat. He held his hand out to her. “Would you like to see something else we brought out here? I have just remembered—I wonder if it’s still there.” His grin brightened with obvious excitement.

Relieved the subject of children had been dropped as swiftly as he brought it up, Esther placed her hand in his and allowed him to help her step out of the boat. “Did you drag some other sort of vehicle into the trees? A carriage, perhaps?” she asked, trying to match his lightness of spirit.

“No, no. Something smaller. This way.” Silas kept hold of her hand rather than place it in the crook of his arm, his fingers twining with hers as they had the night before. Though they wore gloves, the intimacy of the gesture still sent a shiver through her.

Eagerly he led her between two especially large trees, his long legs covering the ground at a pace that made her have to run to keep up. Silas looked back, noticing, and slowed his steps. He offered an apologetic smile and squeezed her hand gently.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“Not far at all.” He took her a few more steps into the trees, then stopped at a pile of stones. “It must still be here.” Silas released her hand before kneeling on the ground, heedless of the dirt. He started moving the rocks out of their pile, all the way down to the earth. The last rock he moved made an odd scraping sound.

“What was that?” Esther asked, peering around him.

“When we formed the club, we decided part of the induction ceremony was to put something of ours in this box and bury it. I think it was Hope’s idea. Jacob called it buried treasure, and she insisted it was more important than that. It was for good luck, making certain we would all be friends so long as a box of our things stayed together. She had a whole fairy story concocted around it.” He took off his gloves and tucked them into his coat before continuing to unearth a small, battered tin box.

Like a boy rather than a man in fine clothes, he turned and sat directly on the ground, legs stretched in front of him. His valet was sure to have a fit. For her part, Esther bit her bottom lip to hide her smile.

It took Silas time to pry the lid off the old container, and when he did she saw it lined with rust. He put the box on the ground and pulled out a bundle wrapped in a large square of cloth, water-stained but perhaps it had once been a clean handkerchief. He pulled at the knots and handed the contents, one by one, to Esther.

The first thing to come out was a pewter figure, half the size of her little finger, of an owl. “This was Grace’s contribution, I think.” Then he placed a ring with a red stone in her palm. “Hope.” A cricket ball. “Jacob.” Then Silas hesitated, his hand wrapped around an object he did not immediately show her. He swallowed, then held it out. “Isaac’s item. A wooden soldier.”

It was painted red and white and had been well lacquered, as it had withstood the elements quite well. She stared at the carving, trying to remember if she had ever seen it before.

“It is almost like an omen,” she said, smiling sadly. “I suppose he did enjoy playing soldier a great deal.”

“When we rode, he would have us practice cavalry charges.” Silas said it almost apologetically, as though taking some of the blame for such a thing upon himself.

Esther lowered herself to the ground and put all the items, excepting the soldier, in her lap. She turned the soldier over again, admiring the detail in the little redcoat’s uniform. Then she placed it carefully with the other treasures. “What about yours, Silas? What did you put inside?”

“Something you may find silly.” He took out a leather cord, from which a beautiful, spiral shell hung from it. “I found that when I was a boy, and I drilled the hole in the shell, making it into a pendant for my mother. After she passed, I sneaked into her room and took it back.” Silas shrugged and averted his eyes, as if he wanted to dismiss the object’s significance.

“I think it’s rather beautiful that you would include it here. It is interesting how well each of these objects represents the people who put them inside.” She turned the shell over in her hands as she had the soldier, admiring its perfect condition. Finding undamaged shells on the beaches was a rare thing.

“I suppose they do reflect on our personalities somewhat. I am terribly sentimental about seashells, you know.” Silas spoke with such an even, somber tone that she had to dart a quick look at him before she dared to laugh.