Chapter 12

CHAPTER TWELVE

" O h, Miss Granger, you cannot simply leave! You have only just recovered from a severe bout of fever!" Molly implored with a tremor in her voice.

She had hastened to Ester's chamber at Theydon Mount, bearing a tray laden with bread, cheese, and slices of cold meat, accompanied by a steaming pot of tea, a porcelain cup, and a jar of honey. Ester had been in the process of dressing, doing up the buttons of her pelisse askew in her haste and requesting help from Molly when she entered. Molly put down the tray and obeyed her mistress, though she protested at Ester's desire to leave.

"I am quite recovered, I assure you, Molly," Ester insisted firmly, wrestling with the stubborn lace at the back of her gown and wincing slightly from the effort. "And you should know, as your employer now knows, that my name is not Emily Granger. It is Ester Fairchild."

As Molly secured the final button, she stepped around to face her. " Ester Fairchild ? You deceived His Grace about your identity?" she gasped, the words tumbling from her in a hushed, horrified whisper.

"I did. I did not know him," Ester murmured, her gaze faltering, before she raised it again, "…and still do not. But I know at least one of his close associates and I do not care to be under the same roof."

"But what of the…" Molly's voice trailed off, the word 'curse' lingering unspoken between them.

Ester fixed a level look at her maid. " Curse ? Don't you see, Molly? There is no curse! I was ill because I had… fallen into the lake. I was drenched through and chilled to the bone. I am better now. And there is no sign of any curse about to strike me down."

Molly's face was a storm of uncertainty. On the one hand, she had been assigned to Ester as lady's maid and took her duties with the utmost seriousness. A maid was to serve, to obey without question—but what if those orders went against her sense of right? What if she believed those orders were not in the best interests of her master or mistress?

Ester firmly grasped the young maid's shoulders and jolted her from her trance. "Molly, I am truly sorry I deceived you." Her eyes softened, sincerity pouring through every word. "You have been nothing but kind to me, and misleading you was never my intention. But please, you must believe me when I say that I acted out of sheer necessity. And now, I… I have good reason to believe I may be in danger. As long as I remain within these walls."

Molly turned away, her movements frantic as she paced the room, hands clutching her head. "It is… it is my duty to inform His Grace if you plan to leave," she stammered, voice wavering.

"—No, no, please!" Ester begged, rushing to intercept her path. "I would never ask you to defy your duties outright, nor do I wish to bring harm upon you or cause you to fall into disfavor with the Duke." She paused, searching Molly's conflicted gaze. "But… if you could pretend, just for a moment, that I was already gone when you brought the tray, then no harm will come to you, and I can be on my way in peace. Please."

Ester watched as the struggle played out on the maid's visage. She could see the young girl's loyalty warring with her concern. It warmed Ester's heart to see such care, but fear still pricked her skin. The knowledge that Viscount Kingsley was within these walls set every nerve on edge. The thought of him barging into the room at any moment made her blood run cold. And worse still, the gnawing dread that Julian might abandon her to his friend's sinister intentions, yielding to some unspoken pact—a claim Kingsley believed was rightfully his…

"But—but what troubles you so deeply about His Grace's friend? He appeared quite affable, if a bit charming when I greeted him at the door," Molly questioned, brows furrowing.

Ester was suddenly gripped by fear for Molly now. It drove her almost to anguish, knowing that she could not stay to protect the young girl. Nor could she whisk Molly away with her. The Duke would insist upon her return and Ester's father would not be able to refuse him. But the thought of Kingsley setting his sights on sweet, innocent Molly made Ester's skin crawl. How could she shield the girl from the viscount's wretched grasp?

Seizing the maid's arms, Ester fixed her with a solemn gaze that she hoped would betray the seriousness of her situation. "Molly, listen to me. The Viscount Kingsley is not the man he appears to be. I knew him from my home in Cheshire. He…he…" Her voice faltered, a tight knot forming in her throat, refusing to loosen. She could scarcely say it aloud. "…He is the reason my family was forced to flee our home and come to the outskirts of London, where we are not known. The scandal he caused has ruined my family's good name. He is a cad of the worst order. A dangerous rogue. Please, I beg you—stay far from him."

Molly's face hardened and her hands tightened over Ester's.

"Miss Fairchild. I have been in service at Theydon Mount since childhood and have known many men of the sort you describe. Mr. Crammond takes good care of me here, as does Mrs. Grypes. I am sure that I will be kept safe, but I will be careful if it eases your worries…" Molly paused, her brows drawing together thoughtfully. "But if this man frightens you so, why not confide in the Duke? Surely, he would protect you."

"Because they are old friends and business associates!" Ester burst out, heart hammering. "Why would he take the word of a woman he barely knows over that of a man he trusts implicitly?" She exhaled sharply, her decision crystallizing before her eyes. "I must leave. But, Molly, I beg for your discretion." Clasping the maid's hands once more, Ester searched her face earnestly. "Please?"

After a tense heartbeat, Molly finally nodded. She glanced at the tray she had earlier set on the table.

"I shall take that back outside and pretend to drop it on the stairs. I was cleaning up the mess and did not see you leave the room. You were already gone by the time I reached your chambers."

Ester let out a slow, relieved breath, her eyes briefly closing as the tension eased in her chest. "Thank you, Molly. I pray that my decision will not rebound upon you. You are innocent in all of this." She took a moment to compose herself. "Now," she continued, steeling herself for what came next, "can you tell me the quickest way out of the castle?"

Molly gave a firm nod and proceeded to give succinct directions, which Ester repeated under her breath, determined to commit each twist and turn to memory.

"Oh, and one final thing, Molly," Ester added urgently, a thought coming to her then. "When I was brought here, I had a sum of coin on my person. It is not among my belongings now. Where would His Grace have put it for safekeeping?"

Molly thought for a moment.

"In his study most likely. His Grace keeps all his valuables stowed away there. In one of the desk drawers perhaps? But… that is where the Duke is hosting Viscount Kingsley."

Ester bit down on her lip, her mind racing. The thought of stepping even a foot closer to any room where Kingsley resided filled her with visceral dread. Yet, she knew all too well what would happen if she failed to deliver the payment. The viscount would ruin her—and by extension, her family. She would rather face her father's wrath a thousand times over than see Helen's prospects destroyed, her chances of a proper marriage dashed, due to her own mistakes.

She needed to recover the money and ensure it found its way into Kingsley's hands. Then slip away and go somewhere that no one would find her, where she could do no more damage to anyone.

Molly's eyes glistened as she took a step closer, her hands wringing with distress. "Oh, Miss Granger… I mean Miss Fairchild! You look so lost. I wish I could do more to help! Are you sure His Grace can't help you?"

Ester forced a smile, unwilling to burden the kind-hearted girl with her own fears.

"No, Molly," she said gently. "I am resolved and content with my decision. I will wait until the Duke has finished his meeting and then recover my property. I won't risk seeing either Kingsley or His Grace. I cannot chance one being in the other's company." She paused, her gaze steady. "Will you go now and carry out your plan? I shall make my way to the corridor of the study and wait."

Molly nodded. Her throat bobbed with a hard swallow. "In that case, I know what must be done."

Without another word, she picked up the tray and left the room. Ester took a moment to don her cloak, her heart pounding against her ribs as if urging her onward. Just as she finished, an almighty crash followed by a sharp yelp echoed through the corridor. Before she had even registered the sound, her feet were already carrying her toward the noise.

Reaching the top of the stairs, she saw the tray and its contents scattered down the staircase. Molly was further down, sitting against the landing wall, her hair tousled and her eyes closed as though she had taken a terrible tumble. Peeking a little, she ruffled her hair some more and then let her head loll to one side.

Ester remained frozen in place, her heart racing, when the unmistakable sound of raised male voices drifted closer. They were coming from downstairs. She recognized one as Julian's deep baritone—and then she caught another voice, one that made her blood run cold. Simon Thompson, the Viscount of Kingsley.

That voice jolted her into action.

She darted beyond the stairs, following her directions from Molly, to a small door set into the wood-paneled wall—made to resemble one of the panels. Her fingers fumbled for a moment as the voices drew nearer, before she managed to pull it open, revealing the narrow servants' stair. A minute later, she emerged into a dim corridor, one that allowed servants to move unseen through the castle. At the far end, a door led to the wing containing the Duke's study.

Her pulse quickened as she crept forward, pressing her ear against the wood when she finally reached the door, straining to catch any sound from within. Silence.

She counted to thirty, listening for any sign of life. Nothing .

Carefully, she pushed the door open a crack and peered inside. The room beyond was empty, the main door left ajar. The concerned voices of Julian and Crammond reached her faintly from somewhere deeper in the castle. She prayed it was a good distance from here.

Stepping fully into the room, Ester scurried her way to the desk. Swiftly yet methodically, she began searching through the drawers. In the last of three on the left side, her fingers brushed against the familiar cool leather of her old satchel. She sighed in relief, wriggling it free. But as she turned to leave, the sound of voices approaching from the hall froze her in place.

Fear gripped her. Her trauma resurfaced. She recognized the voice immediately. It was the voice of the Viscount Kingsley—a smooth, oily baritone as he spoke to another man.

Panic turned her insides to ice. Her heart hammered in her chest as she willed herself—with all her exertion—to move, just move anywhere. The small, secret door she had entered through stood open, but it was all the way across the room. And the voices sounded just a few yards away now.

Desperation surged within her, and Ester suddenly broke from her trance and dropped to hands and knees behind the desk, hiding herself between the two sets of drawers that formed the pillars that supported the desk to either side. She held her breath. Anyone sitting at the desk would see her immediately, but if neither of the two men sat, they might not notice.

"Silly girl. But pretty. If I were staying the night, I might fancy my chances," Kingsley was saying.

"But you have an appointment at the Obsidian this evening," came the reply.

"I know ! It was a hypothetical, you dunderhead. Besides, the last thing I require is having you in my ear constantly reminding me. It is bad enough I must endure their reminders that they possess the wealth I so desperately need. I don't require it from my own servant!"

"A little more than a servant now, your lordship," the man replied coolly. "Your business partner, you promised, with what I know."

"Do not threaten me, you frightful oik!" Kingsley snapped.

"I do not threaten, your lordship. I merely remind that His Grace the Duke would not take kindly to discovering the extent of his business partner's debts."

"And if your man had not bungled a simple task, I would have had the funds to pacify my creditors and buy myself some breathing room!" Kingsley hissed. "Instead, I find myself in this wretched position. Sending a boy to do a man's job!"

"He was interrupted by a nightwatchman," the man protested defensively.

"A night watchman? He was interrupted by the Duke himself. The Ghoul, out for a nighttime ride," Kingsley sounded scornful.

"He was supposed to take the money and leave. I did not pay him to harass the poor lass. He will get the whip when I see him next," came a final murmur.

They were inside the room now, mere feet from where Ester cowered behind the desk. Her heart hammered so violently she feared they might hear it. Holding a trembling hand over her mouth, she struggled to quiet even the sound of her own breathing.

Someone approached the desk, came around it and Ester saw a pair of thick legs in front of her. She closed her eyes tightly and prayed whoever it was would not sit down.

He didn't. Instead, he bent slightly and began tossing open desk drawers and rifling through the contents, muttering under his breath.

"Blast! It isn't here," Kingsley muttered, his frustration boiling over as he slammed the drawer shut. "He always keeps anything of value in this desk. I was certain we'd find the money I was meant to take from the girl right here. Hmm, perhaps there is something else of value in there that I could take."

"You cannot be serious, your lordship!" Harper countered in a hushed whisper. "He would know it was you!"

"Oh? Me, his oldest friend, or the strange woman he has only just met."

Silence suddenly filled the room, heavy and tense.

Ester, hidden beneath the desk, held her breath, feeling the chill of fear crawl up her spine. Had she been discovered? Then, Kingsley sniggered. It was a sound that made Ester shudder. She'd heard that sound as he had tried to force himself on her. It was cruel and wicked, dripped with malice.

Then came the sound of a brittle clink. "This cameo contains a portrait of his mother. He took it without his father knowing, stole it as a boy. It is priceless to him. Let him blame the Fairchild wench," Kingsley muttered darkly.

Shock hit Ester like a cold wave and her hand clamped around her mouth.

The sound of hastening footsteps withdrew and the study door clicked shut behind them. Ester remained where she was for a moment longer, curled tightly under the desk, her body trembling. Terrified sobs racked through her now as she gripped the leather satchel in her hands. She had the money, but now they would accuse her of theft.

It would alienate Julian—the only other she had taken into confidence—against her. Molly too. Julian might not insist on Ester's arrest for theft but he would never trust her again. Would not protect her against Kingsley. The best she could hope for now would be that Kingsley would be content with the money he had asked for, money she now knew was intended to pay off debts. Then Ester would only have her own father to answer to.

He would despise her for stealing from him, but at least the family's name would remain unscathed. Helen would be able to find a husband, untainted by the scandal that meant Ester would never marry.