Page 59 of Rescuing Lord Inglewood

All that mattered was getting to Esther. The amount of emotional upheaval the woman had gone through in the last few hours, in the last several weeks, could possibly undo everything he adored about her. For her beloved brother to return and accuse her in such a way was abhorrent.

Where would Esther go? She had stayed out of her painting room. No other room in the house was particularly dear to her.

The fine weather may have beckoned to her.

Silas strode to the rear of the house, stopping once to ask a footman if the countess had passed by. When the servant confirmed the direction of Esther’s escape, Silas hurried on his way. He did not stop for hat or gloves. He doubted she had stopped either.

He went through the gardens, barely glancing about for her. Instead, he went straight for the beach. When he came to the hill, slight though it was, with the path leading down to the water, he saw her.

She stood staring out at the North Sea, her arms wrapped about herself, unmoving. The waves lapped at the shore, dampening the hem of her gown where she stood. But she gave no notice to them, nor bothered moving out of the way.

When the wind picked up, whipping across the shore to fly in his face, Silas realized he had been admiring his wife from a distance rather than continuing toward her. Seeing her figure standing there, the whole sea before her, had affected him. She appeared so lonely, yet there was a strength to her stance he admired. She faced the sea as she faced the world, with purpose and a firmness of character he had come to admire.

Truly, he had come to love everything about her.

Continuing down the slope, he made directly for Esther.

He came to stand by her side, looking at her while she gazed out to sea. She must have seen him, but she did not so much as blink.

“I explained to your brother,” he said at last. “I am sorry for that, Esther. The conversation should have been different.”

“It hardly matters.” Esther did not move, did not smile or frown. “He is alive. That must be enough for now. I should not have left as I did. I apologize.”

“Stop,” he said, taking hold of her and gently turning her to face him. “You have nothing to apologize for. That was a discussion meant for family, for the three of us. And so much has happened today, and these past weeks. I do not think you owe anyone an apology.”

She dropped her gaze and her bottom lip trembled. “What about you?” she asked, almost too softly for him to hear over the lapping of the sea. When she raised her chin to look at him, he saw her fear. “Should I not ask your forgiveness? Not for saving you. I could never apologize for that. But for everything that came after. For my temper. My inability to rein in my behavior. The picnic. And I have been such a terrible burden, such an ungrateful child—”

He silenced her with a laugh, raising his hand to cup her cheek. “Stop, my dear. Please. We have both made mistakes, but I will never regret all that has happened between us.” He leaned down to kiss her forehead. “Not even you falling into the brook. Actually, I think I am most grateful for your spontaneous decision to cross that log.”

“You cannot be serious,” she said, pushing back to meet his eyes again. “That thoughtless action forced you to marry me.”

Did she not know how he felt? He had not spoken the words to her, but in the past week alone he had done everything he could to convey his tenderness of feeling. With his actions he had sought to assure her of his growing affection.

“Esther,” he said firmly, putting his hands upon her waist and drawing her nearer. “I was already thinking about courting you once the gossip died away. How could I not? You rescued me from a falling statue, exhibiting your bravery and kindness. You did not even know it was me when you acted. You would have done the same for anyone.” Her curls danced in the wind, inviting him to tuck them back behind her ear. “Coming to know you as I have, I am quite certain your tumble into the brook only kept me from delaying what was already bound to be my course.”

Studying him with furrowed brows and the tiniest of wrinkles on the bridge of her nose, Esther slowly shook her head. “You do not mean it. Why would you have thought to marry me?”

“Because you are wonderful,” he said. “Brave, kind, honest, and intelligent. I love talking to you. Your artistry is admirable, your sense of self commendable.” He wanted to kiss her, to show her how he felt, but the words must be said. She had to know. “And I am certain I would have eventually come to love you in courtship as I love you in marriage.”

Her lips parted, and he caught her gasp of surprise in a kiss. Anyone upon the beach might have seen them, and he did not care. All that mattered was Esther, in his arms where she belonged. There would be more mistakes along the way, he was certain, but he would never leave her behind again. Never leave the important things unsaid. She held his heart in her hands with the same capability with which she wielded her paintbrushes.

As they parted from their kiss, he rested his forehead against hers, eyes closed. The water lapped at their feet. “Perhaps one day, you will believe me,” he said. “And then it is my hope that you might return such feelings. But you need not—”

She hushed him, putting her lips to his in the gentlest of kisses. “Silas, I have loved you for a little while now,” she admitted. “Though I tried very hard not to. I cannot lose anyone else I love.”

Was that all she kept between them? The fear of his loss?

Esther continued before he could reassure her. “Having Isaac back, after I already accepted I must lose him, has stopped me from fearing it. None of us are here upon this earth forever. I will lose Isaac again someday. What matters is living without regrets, and loving without fear. I wish to make every moment we have together count. I love you. With my whole heart.”

Wrapping her in his arms, Silas held her as close as he could, his heart soaring. And then, with everything in his life at last perfect, a wave came rushing in upon them and completely soaked them to their shins.

Shrieking, Esther pulled away from him at the same moment another wave hit. He tried to catch her, but Esther stumbled back and fell into the water. She gaped up at him, while he stared down at her with shock. Then, unable to help himself, he started to laugh.

With her nose wrinkling in the most adorable, disgusted manner, she reached her hand up, but the moment he had her, ready to help her to her feet, Esther yanked him downward instead.

He landed atop her in the water, another wave crashing over them, drenching them both. They both gasped at the cold water, but then they were laughing again. Silas scooped up his wife, spinning them in a circle as saltwater dripped from his hair and face, his soaked coat heavy upon his shoulders. Droplets of water sprayed from her gown, and her curls hung limply about her face.

The dignified Earl of Inglewood, one of the most respected members of the House of Lords, only stopped laughing long enough to kiss his bride. When they returned to the house, though dripping wet, Silas decided there was nothing more beautiful than the joyful expression upon his wife’s face.