Page 55 of Rescuing Lord Inglewood

Esther straightened up authoritatively. “Good. Then he can help me keep you healthy and alive.” When her brother opened his mouth as though to argue, she hastily added, “I outrank you, and this is my house, and you will do as I say.”

Isaac’s eyebrows shot up and he rocked back on his heels. He glanced at Silas. “Did becoming a countess make her commanding or has she been like this for a while?”

To his credit, Silas did not smile or joke. He stood and came to put his hand on Isaac’s good shoulder, meeting his gaze squarely. “We are both worried for you. Since the time you walked in our door, your face has lost a lot of color. Rest, man.” He winced. “We can exchange battle stories later, when you have recovered from your journey.”

A footman appeared at the door, bowing. “Yes, my lord? My lady?”

“Please show my brother to his room,” Esther said. “And see to it that his man has everything Sir Isaac needs to be comfortable.”

The footman bowed and motioned for her brother to precede him through the doorway. “This way, Sir Isaac.”

“Very well. Thank you for your hospitality, Lord Inglewood.” He stepped closer to his sister and placed a kiss on her cheek. “And for your domineering commands, Essie.” Then he left the room, the servant closing the door behind them.

Silence hung over them in the study. Esther, facing the door, could not see her husband’s expression, but she could guess at his thoughts. She didn’t speak, but raised a trembling hand to her brow. How had she sent her brother away? She would much rather sit by his side and demand all his stories from him at once, and stare at him with prayerful gratitude. How did it come to pass that they were told of his death, that her heart had broken for him, only for him to stroll right into her house without seeming to think a thing of it?

“Are you well, Esther?” Silas’s voice, though gentle, startled her from her thoughts. He had come up behind her, his hand taking her wrist. “Perhaps you ought to rest, too.”

She needed his steadiness and strength more than rest. Could she admit as much? Turning, Esther took the single step separating them and pressed her cheek against his chest. His arms came up at once, holding her to him in a protective embrace.

“I cannot believe he is home,” Esther whispered. “I want to laugh and cry all at once. But his arm, Silas. An amputation. He should not have travelled. If he falls ill, if there is infection—”

“Hush, my dear. We will not let that happen. I will send for a doctor.” He rubbed her back gently, his chin coming to rest upon her head. “Perhaps you ought to write to your stepbrother and tell him the good news.”

“Yes. Of course.” She did not move away, not yet. She could not. As much as she marveled over her brother’s return from the dead, the haunted look in his eyes, the stiff way he moved, gave her the feeling that he had lost more than an arm to Napoleon’s war.

“Esther.” Silas’s hands left her back to grasp her arms, then he took a step back. When she looked up at him, she could see the tightness around his mouth. The way he held back his emotion and focused on her needs made her give over even more of her heart to him. “We will work together to see that Isaac is cared for and returned to good health. I promise.” He kissed her forehead. “I have letters to write, and you do, too. Would you like to write them in here?”

How did he know, how could he sense, that being alone at the moment would be torturous? Every second her thoughts would be on her brother, her desire to go to him and interrupt the rest Isaac needed. “Yes, if I will not disturb you.”

Silas’s hands ran up and down her arms, his eyes losing focus. “I would prefer to have you here, actually. We have a delicate work ahead of us, informing others of the news that has shocked us today.” He released her at last. “Come. We will pull another chair up to my desk.”

He began the work of arranging the things she would need. A chair, papers, ink, pen, and blotter. Esther moved in a daze to take the seat he offered across from his. Then he started sharpening a pen for her.

They passed an hour in near quiet. Occasionally they consulted each other on the wording of a letter, and who ought to be informed next, but the only sound in the room besides the crackling of the fire was the scratching of their pens. Giving her mind an occupation also gave Esther a great deal of relief. The more she wrote the news, the more firmly it settled in her mind.

Sir Isaac Fox, her brother, lived.

Chapter Twenty-three

Esther stayed near Silas, even after they completed their letter writing and messengers were sent to deliver notes and post the news to those at greater distances. She tucked herself into a comfortable chair with a book of poetry. Attempting to keep her thoughts from running wild, Esther bent her mind upon understanding each and every verse she read.

Behind his desk, Silas worked on estate matters and answering correspondence with his political allies.

It felt like the whole of the day passed, but three hours after Isaac’s disappearance to his room the door to the study opened again.

Silas came to his feet, that look of painful concern twisting his features for an instant, then his face resumed its emotionless facade. Why did he feel the need to wear such a thing with one of his oldest friends present? As used to his open expression as she was, Esther could not help wondering if he did it on purpose.

She rose more slowly, taking in her brother’s appearance. The rest, short as it had been, had restored some of his color. He wore a clean suit of clothes rather than the uniform, the sleeve to his coat pinned up as before.

“Isaac. Please, come in. I will send for some tea and food.” She hurried to step outside, knowing there would be a footman in the hall. After relaying her request, she stepped back into the study to see Isaac and Silas standing close, eyeing one another.

“You married my sister,” Isaac said, bending slightly toward his friend. “Without my permission.” Though the words were said in an even tone, they were hardly encouraging. Esther looked from her brother to her husband, a new knot forming in the pit of her stomach.

“It is something of a complicated story.” Silas shrugged, to all appearances not concerned with Isaac’s words. “Please, sit down. We will tell you the whole of it.”

Esther bit her bottom lip and moved to close the door behind her.

A sudden crash in the front entryway made her jump, and a flood of voices came at the same moment.