Chapter 11

Esther couldn't shake the feeling of unease that gnawed at her stomach. She turned to her sister-in-law apprehensively, feeling vulnerable.

"Do I look all right, Harriet?" she asked as she adjusted the folds of her gown.

Harriet offered her a warm smile. "You look beautiful, Esther," she replied gently, her eyes kind. "There's no need to worry."

But Esther could not shake the doubt that lingered. She glanced at her mother, who was fussing with the lace on her shawl with worry. It was clear that Lady Seymour shared Esther's apprehension despite her attempts to appear composed.

Lord Seymour's voice broke through the tension, calling out to them from the doorway.

"The carriage is waiting," he announced urgently.

The women gathered themselves as fast as they could and made their way outside.

As the carriage rumbled down the cobbled streets, Esther's thoughts drifted back to the conversation she had with William just a few nights prior. She remembered the quiet intimacy of her chamber, the soft glow of candlelight casting flickering shadows on the walls as they spoke. She was lost in the memory of what took place—something she couldn't even tell Harriet about.

It was a beautiful secret she wanted to keep untainted by the opinions of others.

"Esther, we're here." Lord Seymour's voice pulled her out of her thoughts.

With a steadying breath, she prepared herself to face whatever the evening had in store for her.

Esther stepped out of the carriage and into the grand foyer of the Duke's estate, her mind buzzing with a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. The estate smelled just like him, and it took her back to their sensual exchange once more.

But now, as she stood amidst the opulence of the Duke's estate, doubts began to creep in. Was their night together merely a fleeting moment of passion, or did it hold deeper significance? And what about their fake courtship—was it truly as artificial as it seemed, or was there a kernel of truth buried beneath the facade?

Esther couldn't help but wonder if William's concern for her was genuine, if his actions spoke louder than his words. The way he had looked at her, the tenderness in his touch—it had felt real, more real than anything she had ever known.

"What has you looking so anxious?" Adam inquired with mild confusion. "I thought you were vehemently against marriage since your debut."

"Oh, it's nothing," she replied, her voice light and airy, though her heart hammered in her chest. "Just a case of nerves, that's all."

Adam regarded her with a skeptical expression, his gaze probing, as if searching for the truth behind her words. But before he could press her further, their attention was drawn to the figure approaching them—William Barton.

Esther's heart skipped a beat as she watched him draw nearer. She forced herself to plaster on a smile, to play the part of the dutiful guest in the elaborate charade they were a part of.

"Ah, there you are, Your Grace," Adam greeted with warm formality. "Thank you for inviting us to your estate."

William's gaze swept over Esther and her family with cool detachment. "It's my pleasure, Lord Linfield," he replied smoothly. "I trust you and your family are enjoying yourselves thus far?"

Esther nodded absent-mindedly, her thoughts consumed by the splendor that surrounded them. She forced herself to focus on the task at hand, to maintain the facade of happiness and civility even as the weight of their shared secrets threatened to crush her. It was especially difficult to ignore William's gaze, which darkened with obvious lust whenever she glanced at him.

As they made their way into the grand hall of the estate, William led the group with an air of confidence, his posture straight and his expression composed. Esther's family followed closely behind, their eyes darting around the opulent surroundings in awe.

At the entrance of the hall, they were met by William's sisters, who greeted them with polite smiles and pleasantries. Esther noted the tension in Marina's demeanor, a subtle stiffness that belied her usual warmth.

"Welcome, everyone." Marina smiled.

Esther offered her a polite nod, masking her own unease beneath a facade of composure. She couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss.

Their attention was soon drawn to the figure of the Dowager Duchess, who stood at the center of the room, her presence commanding attention as she greeted guests with a regal nod.

"Mother," William said, his voice tinged with a hint of formality as he approached her. "May I introduce you to Lady Esther."

Dorothea's response was polite but reserved, her smile strained as she acknowledged her son's greeting. Esther couldn't help but sense the underlying tension between them, no doubt a consequence of Dorothea's disapproval.

Esther approached the Dowager Duchess with a polite smile, her movements graceful and composed. "Your Grace," she greeted, her voice gentle yet confident as she met Dorothea's gaze.

The Dowager Duchess responded with a curt nod.

Despite her efforts to remain composed, Esther couldn't help but feel a pang of unease at the Dowager Duchess's disdainful gaze. It was clear that Dorothea harbored no warmth towards her.

They exchanged polite pleasantries, but it was an extremely strained conversation where Esther tried hard to find words to say or questions to ask. She knew that winning over William's mother would be no easy feat, but she could at least try.

When dinner was announced, Esther felt relieved and allowed William to lead her away to the dining hall with everyone else. They all sat at the dining table.

Already under scrutiny, Esther tried to eat slowly. But she was an enthusiastic lover of good food. As she hummed happily after the first bite, the Dowager Duchess gave her a side glance.

"My, what a vivacious eater," she remarked.

"I quite like that about her," William chimed in.

"May I pour you some wine, Your Grace?" Esther asked.

William, recognizing her attempt to assert herself, nodded in agreement.

Esther carefully filled his glass with the rich, ruby-red liquid before pausing to pour herself a glass as well.

The Dowager Duchess's disapproving gaze bored into her once more. "Lady Esther, my dear, it is hardly proper for a lady to pour her own drink," she remarked, her tone laced with thinly veiled disdain.

Esther felt a surge of frustration at the relentless criticism, but she refused to back down. With a calm yet defiant demeanor, she turned to the Dowager Duchess and asked, "Would you care for a glass as well, Your Grace?"

The Dowager Duchess seemed taken aback, and her response was icy and dismissive.

Esther held her ground, refusing to let the older woman's disapproval dampen her spirits.

Lady Seymour attempted to defend her daughter immediately.

"Esther is not like other young ladies of the ton," she began. "She has the courage to speak her mind and listen to her heart." She then turned to William. "Isn't that one of the reasons you asked to court Esther, Your Grace? Her independence?"

"Indeed, Lady Seymour," he replied. "Lady Esther's strength of character and her willingness to stand apart from the crowd are qualities that I have long admired."

Esther felt a rush of warmth at his words.

"I appreciate your kind words, Your Grace," she said sincerely. "It's nice to have someone who sees my value beyond superficial expectations."

William offered her a reassuring smile, his eyes meeting hers with a depth of understanding that spoke volumes. "And it is your unique spirit that captivated me from the very beginning."

He turned then to his mother, his brow furrowed with a mix of concern and determination.

"Mother," he began, his tone firm and resolute. "I must ask that you address Lady Esther with the respect she deserves."

Dorothea's expression tightened at the reprimand, her gaze meeting her son's with a mix of defiance and indignation. "William, you know as well as I do that propriety must be upheld."

"Indeed, but propriety should never come at the expense of kindness," William replied unwaveringly. "I am courting Lady Esther, and it is our duty to treat her with courtesy and respect."

Esther watched the exchange with a mix of apprehension and admiration. Despite the tension between mother and son, William's steadfast defense of her honor filled her with a sense of gratitude.

Dorothea's gaze softened at her son's words, a flicker of remorse crossing her features. After a moment of hesitation, she offered Esther a tentative nod of acknowledgment.

"I will do my best, William," she conceded, her voice tinged with contrition. "For your sake, if nothing else."

With that, the tension in the room seemed to ease slightly, replaced by a truce between mother and son.

William rose from his seat, commanding the attention of everyone in the room with his authoritative presence. His voice carried across the elegant dining room as he addressed the assembled guests.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he began, his tone commanding. "I would like to take this opportunity to announce an important event that shall soon take place."

Esther's heart skipped a beat as she listened intently, her gaze fixed on his imposing figure at the head of the table.

"In the coming weeks, as I discussed with Lord Seymour a few days prior," William continued, his voice ringing with conviction, "we shall gather once more to celebrate a joyous occasion—the official engagement of Lady Esther and myself."

A murmur of surprise rippled through the table, mingling with the clink of fine china and silverware as congratulations spread around the table.

Esther's pulse quickened at the gravity of his words, her mind reeling with a whirlwind of emotions.

"I hope it was evident the way Esther and I complement each other," he said as he looked at her fondly. "We are everything the other is not, but I believe we bring balance to each other in ways that offer new perspectives to things. She takes me away from the repetitive routines, and I ground her where necessary."

Chuckles rang around the table as Esther rolled her eyes.

"For the longest time, I was an unfeeling man," he continued as the laughter died down, and his statement held a solemness to it. "I was… lost. Confused. Admittedly, I felt defeated with life and thought I would relive the same pain over and over. But I watched Lady Esther, in all of her eccentricities, take on the discomfort of facing the ton head-on at every single ball."

She looked at him in awe, never realizing truly how much he held her in high esteem.

"And she's always so brave and honest," he said breathlessly. "She does not shy away from pain, anger, and fear." He turned to her completely and raised his glass of wine to her. "You have taught me more than books and business ever has. I hope that you'll continue to do so. I can only hope to return the immense favor you've done for me by simply existing."

Esther nearly cried, and she found herself momentarily swept away by a wave of hope. Could it be possible that their sham courtship held the promise of something more? Perhaps, just perhaps, their arrangement could turn into a love that transcended the boundaries of duty and obligation.

Harriet's smile was radiant, and Adam's eyes gleamed with pride as they showed their support for Esther and William's announcement.

Even William's sisters couldn't help but offer smiles of approval, their previous skepticism momentarily set aside in the spirit of celebration. Their eyes met Esther's with a glimmer of newfound acceptance, and she felt a swell of gratitude wash over her.

However, amidst the sea of congratulatory gestures, Dorothea Barton remained conspicuously silent, her expression a mask of thinly veiled displeasure.

Esther's heart sank as she noticed the tension etched on Dorothea's features, a stark contrast to the jubilant atmosphere that surrounded them.

When they all finished their plates, Esther couldn't get away from the table fast enough.

"The evening air is pleasant," William remarked, offering her his hand. "Would you care to accompany me for a stroll in the gardens, Lady Esther?"

Esther nodded in agreement hastily. "Of course, Your Grace."

"I suppose you could take a leisurely stroll without the encumbrance of a chaperone, Esther," Lady Seymour suggested. "After all, you are soon to be betrothed."

The audacity of the proposal elicited a gasp from Dorothea, her rigid adherence to propriety evident in her indignant retort. "Lady Seymour! Have you forgotten all sense of decorum? To walk without a chaperone is utterly improper!"

Both the mothers start a back-and-forth that even Lord Seymour tried to interrupt.

"How lively." Esther sighed as she looked up at Willian in worry.

He didn't reply, instead taking her hand and leading her outside.

As they strolled through the gardens, Esther found herself momentarily captivated by the beauty surrounding them. The fragrant scent of flowers filled the air, while the gentle sound of fountains added a soothing melody to the atmosphere. It was a beautiful scene, one that seemed to push prior arguments that she witnessed between her mother and the Dowager Duchess to the back of her mind.

Turning her attention back to William, she noticed that he wasn't all too relaxed. With concern, Esther gently squeezed his hand in reassurance.

"Is everything all right, William?" she inquired softly, her voice a gentle murmur amidst the tranquility of the garden.

William only nodded.

"You know," she began, "my family will be positively ecstatic when they start preparing for our engagement gifts."

William offered a faint nod in response, his gaze fixed on a distant point in the garden and his thoughts clearly elsewhere.

Undeterred, Esther pressed on, determined to draw him out of his reverie.

"I can already picture the flurry of activity that will ensue," she continued. "I suspect they will spare no expense in preparing our engagement gifts."

Despite her efforts, William remained silent, his expression inscrutable.

"And Harriet," she added with a small chuckle, "she's already bursting with excitement at the thought of helping me choose my gown for the party. I daresay she'll have me trying on every gown in the shop before she's satisfied."

Still, William offered no response, his silence casting a shadow over their conversation. Esther felt a twinge of frustration but pushed it aside, determined to maintain a semblance of normalcy.

Her cheerful chatter came to an abrupt halt as his curt words sliced through the air, dispelling the illusion of joy that had momentarily enveloped them.

"Esther," he interjected, his tone laced with frustration, "enough with this excitement. Let us not forget the nature of our arrangement. This engagement is nothing more than a contractual obligation, and you are well aware that we are not proceeding with this."

Esther's eyes widened in shock at the harsh reminder, the weight of his words hanging heavily between them. The buoyant anticipation that had filled her moments earlier dissipated, replaced by a sense of resignation.

Her heart was breaking quite literally. It robbed her of breath and constricted her lungs, and the confusion that followed was almost deafening. All the words of praise that he'd given her during the announcement became meaningless glass shards that pricked at her ego.

With a heavy heart, Esther cast her gaze downward, her earlier exuberance now tempered by the stark reality of their situation. She had allowed herself to become swept up in the fantasy of their faux engagement, momentarily forgetting the true nature of their arrangement.

As the gravity of William's words settled on her shoulders, Esther felt a pang of disappointment and regret. She had allowed herself to indulge in the fleeting hope that perhaps, just perhaps, there was more to this than met the eye. But William's reminder served as a stark reality check, grounding her once more in the cold truth of their circumstances.

I'm such a fool.

With a silent nod, Esther acknowledged his words, her expression unreadable.

"It's useless to fantasize about something that simply will not happen."

William's words pierced through the air like a dagger, slicing through her fragile hope with ruthless precision. As his voice echoed in the stillness of the garden, her heart sank even more.

Breaking the heavy silence, William broached the painful subject once more, his voice tinged with a sense of finality.

"When should we end this charade, Esther?"

Esther felt her heart constrict harder at his question.

With a heavy sigh, she mustered the strength to respond, her voice a little shaky. "I suppose… the sooner, the better. So my family doesn't spend anything on wedding preparations."

As the weight of their impending separation settled upon them, Esther couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness.

But what else was she expecting?

She hesitated, her eyes fixed on the intricate patterns of the garden path beneath her feet. The weight of her words hung heavily in the air, mingling with the sweet scent of the blossoms that surrounded them. She knew what she was about to suggest would change everything, yet she couldn't shake the feeling that it was the right thing to do.

"Perhaps… Perhaps we should end things at Lord Malton's ball. It's the last ball before the engagement party," she finally said.

She glanced up at William, searching his face for any sign of agreement or dissent. She hoped, still hoped, that maybe he wouldn't want to end it. Even if he had to, she wanted to at least know if it would pain him to do so.

William remained silent for a long moment, his brow furrowing as he considered her proposal. Esther held her breath, waiting for his response, her heart pounding in her chest.

At last, William spoke, his voice grave and measured. "Lord Malton's ball," he repeated, his tone tinged with resignation. "Yes, that seems… appropriate."

"Are you sure about the timing?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. "Perhaps you would like to decide that, too?"

William met her gaze, his eyes searching hers for a moment before he nodded solemnly. "No," he replied, his voice tinged with sadness. "It's for the best. I agree with your suggestion, Lady Esther."

"Good." She dug her nails into her palm.

As they stood in silence, surrounded by the beauty of the garden, Esther couldn't help but wonder what might have become of them should he accept her as his wife. But deep down, she knew that their paths were never meant to converge for long.

Her heartache was swiftly replaced by a surge of anger, coursing through her veins like wildfire. How could he stand there so impassively, as if their impending separation meant nothing to him? After how he touched her and kissed her. The memory of their intimate moments, the tender words whispered in the dark, seemed to mock her now.

Esther turned to leave, but William didn't stop her, following after her in silence.

She gritted her teeth, her fists clenched at her sides as she struggled to contain the tempest of emotions raging within her. Her eyes stung with salty tears that threatened to spill over, but she wouldn't cry in front of anyone.

How dare he act as though their time together was inconsequential, as though she were nothing more than a pawn in his game?

When they left William's estate, she did not bid him farewell. She would not let him see her heartbroken.