Chapter 13

CHAPTER 13

E sme had felt uncomfortable the first little while she waited in Finn’s house, but the feeling had faded when his butler had brought her some biscuits to go with her tea and had kindly left the door open when he left, almost like he was setting her free into Finn’s world.

She finished her second delicious biscuit, downed the last bit of tea in her cup and finally got up. She exited the room and went into the long hallway to her left. There were many doors to either side of her all the way to the end and most were open, once again making her feel that there would be no judgment if she gave herself a little tour. She peeked into a few parlors, each painted and decorated in a thematic color and all lovely.

Though another door down the hallway was a music room. She stepped inside and drew a deep breath. There was a gorgeous piano beside a large window, a harpsichord and a smaller lute harp. She hadn’t played any instrument in so long, but she found herself recalling nights where she and her father had played together. She wondered if Finn played or if he only observed while Lady Marianne did so.

She turned and crossed the hallway where she found a library. This time she fully entered the space and breathed in the dusty heaven of the books. It was a wonderful room, with high shelves lined with tome after tome, a large fireplace that was currently unlit, and two tall ladders so that a reader could reach even the highest shelves, both on rollers so they could be moved to any place needed.

She could easily imagine herself perched in the window seat on a rainy day, lost in some story or poem. She blinked. That wasn’t right. She had no place to imagine herself in this house. In this life. She’d left one very much like it and surrendered all claim she had to return. She and Finn were having an affair. There was nothing else to it.

She huffed out a breath and moved down the hallway again. It widened toward the end and was lined with a portrait gallery. She paused to look up at the endless faces of Delacourts past. Men and women who shared Finn’s dark eyes, his strong hands, the hint of his smile. The last portrait was of his immediate family and she stared up at it.

The previous Earl of Delacourt stood ramrod straight, the young Finn at his side. She couldn’t help but note how the earl’s hand rested heavily on his son’s shoulder, fingers slightly clenched as if he was pinching the boy. Lady Delacourt sat in a chair just in front of the two, holding a baby who had to be Lady Marianne. She was looking away from them, her expression taut and pained. Whoever had painted this had captured such a fractured moment. One laced with heartbreak that she knew Finn still carried.

And she ached for him. Both as the small boy in the painting and the man who had crashed into her world and blown her expectations to pieces.

She stared a few moments more and then let out a long sigh. Once more she was dipping her toes into waters where she certainly had no place. No matter how she kept reminding herself, it seemed impossible to keep that truth in mind. She saw Finn, thought of Finn, recalled Finn and…poof! All her best intentions and logical facts were gone.

“It cannot be that way.”

She marched herself forward, toward double doors at the end of the hallway. They were cracked and she heard some commotion inside. When she ducked her head in, she saw she’d found the ballroom. Servants were readying it in a bustle of activity. They laughed and joked with each other as they worked, occasionally spinning around the big ballroom floor together before they picked up their duties again. The room looked lovely as they hung pale blue bunting and prepared a raised platform for the orchestra that would play for the partygoers. It seemed Finn had spared no expense to celebrate his beloved sister’s future with his best friend.

She smiled slightly at that fact and the warmth it gave her. Lucky Marianne to never have to fear again.

“Miss Portsmith?”

She jumped at the sound of a voice behind her and turned to find Finn’s butler, Bentley, at her shoulder. He had a few items draped over his arm. It looked like more of the bunting.

“I’m dreadfully sorry,” she said, stepping back so she no longer blocked the door. “I was nosing around where I wasn’t needed.”

“Not at all, miss. Lord Delacourt made it clear you have the run of the house while he is gone.” There was no indication how that fact impacted Bentley. He was too good to show a reaction. “We are preparing the ballroom, of course.”

“For Lady Marianne’s engagement ball, yes. I’ve heard the happy news.”

“Happy, indeed,” Bentley said with a slight smile. “Lady Marianne is vastly content, it seems. We all wish her nothing but joy.”

She nodded. “You seem a comfortable household.”

“Oh yes, miss. There could be no better man to serve than the earl.” He shifted. “Is there anything you need, miss, before I get back to my duties?”

She glanced around the room, and as she did she noticed a high balcony that surrounded the edge of the room. One that could look down on the dancefloor.

“Do guests really go up in those high verandas?” she asked, motioning to them.

The butler smiled. “Not usually. We don’t encourage it. Three earls ago there was apparently an incident with a drunken attendee and a…well, stomach upset. All the servants know about it. Usually the passageways to the observatory verandas are left closed off during parties.”

“I see.” She looked up again. That would be a perfect place to watch the engagement ball surreptitiously if Finn did manage to obtain Francis’s attendance. “I think I’ll stroll in the garden to stay out of your way. Is there a best exit to do so?”

He held out a hand toward the line of French doors along the back of the ballroom that were already open wide to let the breeze in and cool the room while the servants worked. “This is the fastest exit. The veranda behind is quite long and wraps along the back of the home. There are stairs on the west side that lead straight to the gardens.”

“Thank you, Bentley,” she said with a small smile for him. Then she moved through the ballroom, feeling the fleeting glances of the servants on her as she left the house.

Outside she drew a deep breath of air. The knowing looks of the servants, as innocuous as they had been, still felt stifling. There was a part of her that felt the shame of their knowledge of her relationship to their employer. News of a woman spending time in his chamber, in his bed, had to have spread belowstairs. They would gossip about her while they worked now. And after. And for a while to come, she suspected.

She pushed her shoulders back and crossed the stone veranda to stand at the wall. After a few breaths, her worry subsided and she could enjoy the beauty of the gardens below. There was a lack of green in the spaces where she now lived. To find it, she had to go to parks, but this was a private heaven she couldn’t resist.

She moved to the east end of the veranda and down the curving staircase where she met with a beautifully tended pathway that guided her into the garden proper. All around her were beautifully tended and trimmed bushes, neatly kept trees straining with soon to be ripe fruits and then there were the flowers.

Oh, the flowers. She almost skipped along as she looked at all of them. Blooms of pink and red and yellow turned their happy petals toward her, filled her nostrils with scents that smelled so fresh and sweet. There were roses and hyacinth, bluebells and lilies and everything in between. She stepped up to each bush and stem, leaning in to breathe them, smiling at the bees buried amongst the blooms. It all felt so right. Like home, but a home she’d lost and couldn’t return to. It felt like a dream. It felt…like peace.

She sat down on the closest bench with a thunk. Over and over her mind kept taking her places it shouldn’t be. Thoughts she couldn’t entertain. Hopes and dreams she had killed and that had to remain dead or else they would haunt her. She had a life. It wasn’t this one. It never could be.

Why couldn’t she remember that when she was in this man’s space? Or his arms?

She drew a shaky breath and looked up at the house, just in time to see Finn coming down the same stairs she had descended not long before. She watched him through the dancing light and shadows cast by the trees and dipping sun and couldn’t deny the thrill his presence caused. One more outrageous thing she had to control somehow, some way.

“My lord,” she said, rising as he reached her.

He stopped in his tracks and stared at her. “Are we back to my lord , then?”

She pursed her lips. “Finn,” she said softly. “You’ve returned and are in one piece.”

His brows lifted and the small smile that tilted his lips was far too attractive. “Were you worried about me, Esme?”

She wanted to say yes. To launch herself at him to ensure he truly was whole and well, but she didn’t. Instead she stepped away.

Now his expression drew down with concern. “Was everything well in my absence?”

She nodded, for she didn’t want her confused emotions to cause trouble for anyone else. “Oh, yes. Your staff was very kind and I was offered all the hospitality I could have asked for. But I am nervous to hear how it went. You were gone so long.”

“I’m sorry to have concerned you.” He motioned to the bench where she had deposited herself a moment before, and together they sat there, their knees forced close together by the narrow seat. “I did find your cousin at White’s,” he began.

She was glad to be seated because for a moment her world swam and she gripped the edge of the bench so she wouldn’t pitch herself out of it. “You did?” she whispered, her voice almost not her own it sounded so odd and far away.

He leaned closer and caught the hand that didn’t hold tight to the bench. He cupped it between his own and drew a long breath. She realized she did the same with him and the world calmed a bit.

“I did. We spoke briefly, and then I had to pretend other business there just so our meeting wouldn’t seem suspicious to him.”

She nodded. “That makes perfect sense, I should have thought of that. So what happened? How did you find him?”

“Selfish, boorish, every bit as unpleasant as I recalled,” he said, but he did so slowly, as if trying to ease her into a thought she wouldn’t like.

She pulled her hand away slowly and stared at him. “You found yourself uncertain of his intentions,” she said. “You think him innocent of my charges.”

His immediate surprise that she could read that in his expression and body language was almost comical. He shook his head. “I don’t know.”

It wasn’t an unfair judgment, especially after what sounded like a brief encounter, and yet anger rose up in Esme’s chest. No, not anger. Disappointment. She hadn’t realized just how much she wanted this man as an ally. Wanted his support not just for an investigation, but to tell her that her beliefs about her father weren’t just born out of heartbroken grief and a weakness. She wanted him to take her side.

And now that he wasn’t, at least not wholeheartedly, her chest hurt and revealed even more of the weakness she had been admonishing herself for all day. She got to her feet and turned away.

“This was a mistake, I’m sorry to have wasted your time. I’ll just go on as I was.” She took a long step toward the house and ultimately escape, but he rushed to his feet and went after her.

“Esme!” he said, catching her hand.

She yanked her hand back and threw her elbow out to thwack his fingers away, then pivoted and set her body, immediately in a fighter’s stance.

He stared at her, his breath coming hard and heavy, but he didn’t move toward her. Instead, he took a step away, hands lifted to show he was no threat. A lie. All he was was a threat, perhaps not to her physical person, but to everything else she’d built and become.

“Please,” he said, more softly now.

She was blinking at tears, hating herself for letting him see them. “If you want to take his side?—”

“I’m on your side,” he interrupted, and now he stepped up again, this time more carefully and took her hands in his. There was nothing aggressive about the motion, nor about the way he smoothed his thumbs across the top of her hands so gently. This time she didn’t pull them away. “I’ve spoken to him all of once and the first impression he leaves is of a silly fop. Of course that could be false, he could be much more Machiavellian beneath. So I don’t necessarily believe one way or another that he did something yet.”

She pursed her lips. “When you put it that way it sounds…reasonable.”

He let out a low chuckle. “Thank you. I don’t think I’ve ever been accused of that before.” His smile fell. “Esme, don’t you think it would be a good thing if we determined that your suspicions about Francis are untrue? That your father’s death was deeply tragic, but natural?”

The tears she had felt stinging her eyes now began to slide down her cheeks no matter how she tried to stop them. “I-I need it to be someone’s fault ,” she gasped out. “I want there to be someone to blame.”

His eyes softened and he drew her in, putting his arms around her, holding her against his chest as his hand came up to stroke her hair gently. She dug her hands into his coat, clinging as she was wracked by sobs she hadn’t been able to release for years. It shocked her how they came, how she couldn’t stop them, and how he quietly allowed them without comment, without discomfort. All he offered was kindness and understanding.

Eventually the pain loosened, released its harsh grip on her body and soul and she was able to stop weeping. She lifted her head from his now-damp coat and heat filled her cheeks.

“My apologies,” she whispered.

He cupped her cheek, brushing away some of the remaining tears there. “I doubt you’ve ever fully been able to grieve thanks to your cousin’s actions. You needn’t ever apologize for how you feel, at least not to me.”

He reached into his pocket and drew out a handkerchief, monogramed with his initials. He handed it over and she first wiped it over his jacket.

“I must at least apologize for the state of this coat.”

He smiled. “Things are things. It’s not damaged.”

She tilted her head in wonder at him, then wiped her eyes and nose. When she had put herself back together a little, she sighed. “I didn’t even allow you to finish your story. So you talked to my wretched cousin and made your first impressions. You planned to invite him to your sister’s engagement ball. Were you able to do that?”

He nodded. “I was. You should have seen his eyes light up, the grasping fop. He was thrilled to be included in such a highly spoken-of event and he agreed to attend. So the next part of our plan is already in motion and we’ll see where it leads.”

She clutched his hand in hers. “Oh, that’s wonderful. I’m sure his tongue will be loosened when he has a drink or two in him and is puffed up in his own importance.”

“That’s my hope, as well,” he said. “I won’t stop, Esme. I’ll continue until I’m certain I’ve uncovered everything he may be hiding when it comes to your father. I promise you that.”

She stared at him. There had been many men who had made her promises since her father’s death, both when she’d briefly worked as a lightskirt and since. She’d never had any trust in them. But this man had already kept his word and she found herself believing that he always would. That she could trust him with her faith and hopes. Dangerous but oh so bewitching.

She inched closer to him on the bench and his pupils dilated as she rested a hand on his chest. “Thank you, Finn,” she whispered before she leaned up and kissed him.

He allowed it, his arms coming around her, drawing her even closer. The brush of lips turned headier, hotter, as she traced the crease of his mouth with her tongue. He opened to her, letting her taste and tease him until her breath was short and all she wanted was to be closer to him. As close as she could be.

She drew back. “I want to go to your chamber.”

He blinked and she could see him trying to process that demand. “I told you, there is no repayment.”

“You also told me we could do this for mutual pleasure. That’s all I want right now. So please, take me to your chamber.”

He untangled himself from her arms and stood, a god of solid muscle and sinew towering over her and holding out his hand. Offering her heaven for a moment. She took it and together they walked back through the garden, up the stairs and into the house where that taste of heaven awaited her in the big chamber at the top of the stairs.