Chapter 18

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

E ster clicked the key into the lock, then paused, staring at the door. Julian's instructions had been clear—they were for her protection— but the room she was hidden in was isolated, leaving her with no sense of what was happening beyond its walls. Silence pressed in, broken only by her restless movements. She had tried to settle on a chaise protected from the dust of ages by a rough, canvas sheet, discovering a forgotten stack of books beneath it. She picked one up, determined to distract herself, but the words blurred, and no meaning stuck. Her thoughts constantly circled back to Julian.

What was happening between him and Kingsley? Would their confrontation turn violent? Could he be hurt?

Unable to bear it any longer, she had resolved to leave the room and find out for herself.

Now, she hesitated.

With a sigh of frustration at her own indecision, she turned to the nearest window, leaving the key in the lock.

The window was tall and narrow, framed by a stone arch, with a deep sill that could easily serve as a seat. Beyond it, the forest stretched endlessly, a green fortress reaching far beyond the horizon. The thought of returning to her family was a welcome one, of course. But the thought of soon leaving Theydon Mount was suddenly painful.

It was an isolated idyll.

One could be whomever one chose to be here. The forest did not care if she and Julian bathed naked in its pools. Or made love beneath its leafy canopy. That thought made Ester blush furiously. The knowledge that they had done that very thing, out of wedlock, made the blushes even more potent. So lost was she in the recollection of Julian's body that she did not hear the footsteps outside the door, nor the turning of the handle until the door was creaking open.

Ester gasped, heart lurching in her chest, as she spun around, half-ready to fling herself behind the worn chaise. The fright fled from her as quickly as it had come when she saw Molly. The maid looked equally startled to see Ester...

In fact, she looked positively panic-struck.

Behind Molly stood a young man, and the moment their eyes met, Molly turned sharply, pushing him back into the corridor and slamming the door with a decisive thud.

With her back pressed firmly against the door, Molly spun around to face Ester, her face a mask of stark terror.

Ester's heart still pounded in her chest as she tried to steady her breath. "Molly, you startled me!" she whispered.

"I am so sorry, Miss! Did you have a change of heart? I had thought you left and not expected there to be anyone in this wing—that is to say—well, Mr. Crammond—well, he told me to… and…" she floundered, cheeks scarlet.

Ester's mind suddenly returned to the young man Molly had so hastily concealed. Julian kept a small staff, consisting only of three servants—Molly, the butler Mr. Crammond, and Mrs. Grypes, the housekeeper and cook.

"Has Julian finally decided to take on a new servant?" Ester asked, brow arching.

Molly's eyes darted nervously back toward the door, her lips parting as if to explain. But no sound followed. It took a heartbeat too long for Ester to understand what she had just seen. Smiling, she made toward the young maid and gently took her trembling hands.

"Ah, I see now. Is he a young man from the village, perhaps?"

Molly faltered for a moment, then nodded pitifully. "His name is Henry, Miss, and he works for Jessop the butcher in Theydon Village. He comes by every week to deliver. I have been talking to him after each delivery for the best part of a year now. Even walked part of the way back with him once."

Ester smiled warmly. "And is he a kind young man?"

A blush deepened on Molly's cheeks as she gave a quick, eager nod. "He is the perfect gentleman. Though, obviously he is no gentleman in the strictest sense, if you take my meaning," Molly clarified, swallowing nervously. "You will not tell His Grace, will you, Miss? I will get into such terrible trouble if it came to be known I was sneaking him into Theydon Mount."

"Of course not, Molly. But you must be careful," Ester replied, her tone turning serious. "Once a reputation is tarnished, it is very difficult to restore. And, as you well know, it is always the woman who bears the brunt of such scandals."

Molly's face softened with relief. "Oh, Henry is not that sort, my lady. He is ever so respectful—he even asks my permission before holding my hand. I do not have any qualms on that score. May I… open the door and…"

"Certainly," Ester smiled. "I should like to meet him, actually."

Molly's face brightened, clearly pleased by the idea, and she slipped out of the room for a moment. When she returned, she led a tall, broad-shouldered young man inside, his face ruddy from the chill of the outdoors. He wore a collarless shirt, sturdy trousers, and work-worn boots. His large hands dwarfed Molly's, and he bobbed his head in respect, tugging his forelock as he greeted Ester.

Molly stood beside him as Ester spoke to him, beaming with pride. Ester realized that she was behaving as the lady of the house, as the duchess, taking an interest in the beau of one of her household staff. It gave her a strange, warm feeling. Only play-acting of course. There was no possibility of marriage, despite the intimacy she and Julian had shared. He could not afford to marry someone with the prospect of scandal hovering over her as Ester did. It would be a perpetual sword of Damocles. Even if Kingsley seemed to accept the money Julian had said he would offer, what guarantee would there be that it would be enough? That he would not return at some future date?

Eventually, Molly sent Henry on his way and Ester heard a chaste kiss being shared behind the closed door before his heavy footsteps receded down the corridor. Molly returned to the room, crimson and fanning her face with her hand. Ester grinned and impulsively hugged the young maid.

"Oh, I am so very happy for you, Molly. He seems a lovely young man."

"Thank you, Your Grace," Molly replied, still breathless.

"Not Your Grace , Molly," Ester corrected gently, releasing her. "I am no Duchess."

The young maid's visage lit with a sheepish smile. "Oh, do forgive me, my lady. I was getting ahead of myself. But it is as plain as day." She leaned in and lowered her voice, "Even Henry was agreeing when I brought it up to him earlier."

Ester raised a brow, amusement tugging at the corners of her lips. "Is that so? Oh dear. I did wonder why the boy felt as nervous as a debutante at her first assembly. Well, it is immensely flattering, but not a possibility I'm afraid."

"But why ever not, Miss?" Molly asked, innocently. "As I said, it is as plain as the nose on your face. To us anyway. Why, I even caught His Grace walking about with his gloves on today. Gave me quite a start, it did."

Ester's smile faltered and she regarded Molly seriously. "You don't believe in that old curse, do you?"

Molly hesitated before nodding. "Well, His Grace seemed to believe in it, Miss. So, yes, I suppose I did. We all did. Though I ought to confess, I'd never heard of the like before."

"Molly, it is not true," Ester said softly. "I am living proof of it, aren't I?"

The maid's eyes widened, struck with the realization. "Yes, you did get better after you was sick and we all thought you was a goner. Blimey! I am ever so glad, I don't mind telling you." She paused, chewing her lip nervously. "But… well, can I be plain, Miss?"

Ester nodded and Molly glanced down before continuing, her voice quiet but filled with conviction. "I think you and His Grace make a good pair, and I have never seen him look at anything the way he looks at you. Not that there have been any other ladies here, but still... the way he looks at you, it reminds me of how Henry looks at me. And... well, you look at His Grace the same way."

Ester sank onto the old chaise, moving the swathes of books aside. Molly took the seat beside her as Ester let her head fall back against the cushion with a heavy sigh.

"I wish it were that simple. If I confess something to you, Molly, will you swear that you will tell nobody? Not even Henry?"

Molly made the sign of the cross over her heart. "On my eternal soul, Miss. You can trust me."

Ester wavered, took a deep breath, then spoke. "I would dearly love to marry Julian. But there is the shadow of scandal that hangs over me. Julian believes he can solve it but I will suffer no risk to his name or reputation. If the scandal is truly dealt with, then the next best thing I can do is go back to my family and live quietly."

Molly frowned slightly. "And does His Grace want the same thing?"

"I… I don't know," she confessed, her voice unsteady. "We never really spoke about it. But it is impossible. The only reason I allowed myself to be alone with him was because I thought I should never cross paths with him again..." She absently reached for a book she had set aside moments earlier, then held the cover up for the maid to see. " Perfect strangers …"

Ester trailed off, realizing what she had inadvertently confessed to without intention. She put a hand to her mouth, eyes wide. Molly smiled and giggled.

"I am your lady's maid, and I think I shall be maid to a duchess no matter what you say. And if you and the Duke have shared more than a kiss, there is no harm in that as far as I'm concerned. But rest easy. It will go no further. On my life."

Ester felt a flood of relief wash over her, angry at herself for letting her mouth run but relieved at the simple, unwavering loyalty of this young girl. She wondered if it was truly possible to be both mistress and friend at the same time. She would certainly like to be friends with all those who served her. She stopped that train of thought before it could lead to hope. The idea of marrying Julian, of becoming his duchess, was a dream she could never allow herself to hold onto. Not ever.

Though they might have rescued him from the clutches of his curse, she would never be free of her own.

"I would like to consider you my friend, Molly. I do not believe, as you do, that I will be a duchess one day. But I hope to keep you as a friend," Ester said softly.

Molly's response was cut short as the door swung open with a violent crash, slamming against the wall. A man stood in the doorway. Ester did not recognize his high-cheeked face with its prominent nose. From the way his eyes narrowed and a thin smile broke across his lips, he recognized her. When he spoke, though, Ester remembered him.

"Miss Fairchild! Oh, how I am eternally pleased to have found you!" Harper said, stepping further into the room, closing the door behind him with a deliberate click.

Without so much as a glance back, he turned the key in the lock, removing it swiftly.

Ester felt a surge of panic, her limbs frozen in place. Her mind went back to the night in Handbridge, the ball at which she had found herself cornered and isolated by the Viscount Kingsley. Then the night at Theydon's Mere, when despair and humiliation had driven her to seek oblivion. Her throat tightened, restricting her ability to speak. Or scream. He had long-fingered hands and brown hair that he moved from his temple with an affected tilt of his head and brush with the back of his hand. His eyes never left her.