Page 57 of Rescuing Lord Inglewood

“We spent a few hours writing letters, as you must know.” Silas sat at his ease, in command of the room though they had all come to see Isaac. As the leader of their group, Esther supposed it natural for them to look to him still. He was the oldest, held the highest rank, yet it was more than that which set Silas in such a position. He had a confidence about him, a strength of character that she had always admired.

“I went to the Everly home the moment I received mine,” Jacob admitted with his customary broad smile. “Hope and Grace were already climbing into a phaeton, pulling bonnets on as they went.”

Isaac shifted in his chair, looking at each of them in turn. “You need not all have rushed here. Though I am glad you did.”

Hope gasped from her seat. “Need not have rushed? Isaac, you terrible man, what should we have done? Sipped at our tea and discussed the matter calmly? We mourned you for an eternity!”

“It felt like an eternity,” Grace corrected. Her gentle happiness was such a contrast to her sister’s more dramatic words. “We could not wait to see you for ourselves, to be sure it was the truth.”

“I think Hope ought to enter herself into the races,” Jacob said suddenly. “I was hard-pressed to keep up with her, driving her pony, and I upon my horse.”

The group laughed at that, Hope the loudest of all.

“But you must tell us,” Silas said, commanding the room once more. “How was it we were informed of your death? It is such a gross error in communication. I have no doubt your heir has already been told of his fortune. The poor man will now have to be told he is not a baronet. All the grief that has come from this.” Silas shook his head, his expression darkening slightly when he met Esther’s gaze.

“I cannot tell how it happened. I know I was misidentified when they brought me in from the field.” He grew somber, looking around the circle of his friends, meeting each gaze for a moment before he continued. “I was not where I should have been, which contributed to the error. My horse had been shot out from under me, my men scattered to another command. I joined them, trying to bring order to the situation. There was an explosion. Shrapnel flew everywhere. I raised my left arm—” He gestured with his right. “It took the brunt of it. But the man standing next to me at the time, Sergeant Farrow, was badly injured.”

Isaac swallowed and his hand fell to the arm of his chair, forming a tight fist. “His face was damaged. I set about trying to help him, right there. I will spare you the more horrible details. I stayed with him for some time.” He grew quiet, sitting back in his chair and raising his eyes to the ceiling. He swallowed several times, obviously trying to regain control.

Esther reached out and covered her brother’s fist with her hand. He opened his fingers and accepted hers, squeezing tightly enough that it hurt.

“When they came collecting bodies, the sergeant had already died. I was hurt, but I wanted to stay in the field as long as I could. I told the collectors my name and commanded they take the sergeant. That may have started the trouble. Perhaps they passed my name to another, and it was attached to the sergeant’s remains rather than the person who identified him. I do not know.” Isaac let out a sharp breath. “I fainted. From blood loss, the doctor said. They took me to a hospital tent, and I do not remember what came next. Only that I was in pain. Agony. And then I woke with one less arm than I had the day before.”

He said the last wryly, his smile pained as though he knew he could not make a joke of the situation and tried anyway. “Silas, do you remember the stories of Admiral Nelson?” he asked.

“I do. Rose up right after his amputation and continued to command his sailors.” Silas’s gaze had grown somber as Isaac spoke.

“I always hoped to be like him, brave and determined. Unshakable. But I have to confess, in that moment, I was not. All I could do was weep.” Isaac released Esther’s hand and rubbed at his forehead, the room silent. “For myself, for the men under my command.”

Grace spoke, rather surprising Esther. “It is natural to experience sorrow, Isaac. We do not think less of you for having a heart.”

He nodded, pulling in a shaky breath. “Thank you, Grace.” He did not speak with even a degree of acceptance. But he kept talking before more could be said of the situation. “I admit I thought of all of you, almost constantly. I wondered what everyone got up to in my absence. Thank you for your letters. They gave me hope and cheer these last three years.”

“You are most welcome,” Hope said cheerily. “I am glad Papa agreed we could write to you.”

Esther had not known they all wrote her brother. She had written faithfully, every week that her brother had been gone. He never mentioned his friends or their doings in his letters back to her. He must have guessed they never saw one another.

“I had several jealous friends.” The smile he wore was sad again. “I always had the most mail. The four of you, Esther, Hugh’s usual missives about the estate. Receiving post was always my favorite moment of the day. Sometimes we had daily mail, other times it would arrive in batches.” He glanced at Esther, then turned pointedly to Silas. “And I somehow never received the letter announcing your betrothal to my sister.”

A blush stole into Esther’s cheeks and she watched as Silas’s ears went a little red. Often she had wondered what Isaac’s reaction to her marriage and the reasons behind it would be. At last she would see the truth of it, see his censure or approval.

“Ah, yes. That.” Silas met her gaze, his green eyes warm and bright. “I am sorry the letter did not make it to you. It explained everything.”

Isaac chuckled and took up Esther’s hand again, offering her a sideways grin before giving his attention to Silas. “I do not think you need explain much. Although I do wish you could have waited for me to return, to give her away properly, I must say that I am happy for you both. I never thought one of my closest friends would fall in love with my sister, but given how often she was about in our childhood, I suppose it is somewhat natural.”

All the warmth fled from the room and Esther pulled her hand out of her brother’s, tucking it in her lap with the other.

He thought Silas had wed her out of love.

No one contradicted him immediately. No one spoke at all. Slowly, Isaac’s smile melted away. He looked from one face to another, his brow wrinkling as he examined their faces.

Hope looked down at her hands. Grace kept her chin up, but the angle of her smile was more commiserating than anything. Jacob cleared his throat and stared at Silas.

And Silas. Silas’s ears were no longer red. His chin had a firm set to it. He darted a quick look at her.

Isaac’s posture stiffened next to her. “Silas? That is why you married her, isn’t it?”

“Not precisely,” Silas answered at last, his deep voice too loud for the silent room.