Chapter 16

CHAPTER 16

E sme crouched on the floor of the balcony perched high above the ballroom, peering through the slats at the crowd bobbing below. The gathering had been nothing but a success, just as she had expected it would be when she’d first stumbled upon this magical room days prior and seen the hard work being put into the decoration. Despite her purpose in coming here, sneaking into the house, forcing her way past a lock to this hiding spot, she hadn’t been able to keep herself from being lost in the ball, at least for a while.

It had been years since she had gone to such an event. She’d always enjoyed a ball and had danced and laughed and flirted without a care in the world. She could scarcely recall that carefree girl she’d been in those days, the one who hadn’t truly known loss or fear or desperation.

She blinked at stinging tears and focused her attention on Finn. He looked dashing in his formal clothes and certainly the ladies in attendance noticed. He’d been the center of attention all night, smiling at the attendees, talking with the chaperones. If he wished, he could pluck any flower from the garden of debutantes and make her his bride. Society would celebrate as he went forth into his expected future. Once he did, he would probably never look back at her at all.

That shouldn’t have stung, but it did as she watched him talk to his sister for a moment. Marianne had been glowing since she’d entered on the arm of her fiancé, the devastatingly handsome Earl of Ramsbury. If the way they looked at each other was any indication, they were truly a love match. What a thing.

Finn stepped onto the dancefloor with Marianne and they took an elegant turn around amongst the crowd. She smiled at how lovingly Marianne looked at Finn. It was good he had that. He deserved it. He was a decent man, at the heart of it. His refusal to accept that she would come here to observe the ball wasn’t about being cruel, she knew that. It was to protect her.

Even if it wasn’t his place.

The song finally ended and the siblings made their way to the edge of the floor where they continued to talk for a moment. Esme noted the way Finn tilted his head, the way he stood with his shoulders pushed back—she noticed every detail about him. It was impossible not to when she knew that body so very well and wanted it even more. What would it feel like to dance with him, to go back in time and meet him when she wasn’t touched by loss and fear? Would he have held her close, splayed his fingers across her back? Flirted shamelessly and made her toes curl in her slippers with things she hadn’t even begun to understand then?

She blinked to clear those thoughts away and heard the butler’s voice at the ballroom doors. “The Marquess of Chilton.”

She pivoted so fast she nearly deposited herself on her arse from the squatted position she was in. For a moment she searched for her father and when she saw her cousin her chest hurt. But Francis was here! He had come at Finn’s request.

She hadn’t seen him since she ran, and she flinched. He was wearing her father’s diamond pin in his cravat. She recognized the glint of it in the lights of the ballroom and she gripped her hands into fists at her sides. Her mother had given her father that piece—it was not part of the inheritance of title.

She stared as he moved into the crowd, being greeted by those around him as if he weren’t a monster. How could they not see that he was a monster? Why did they shake his hand and bow their heads toward him with the same respect that had been afforded her wonderful father? It was so desperately unfair.

She glanced at Finn and found that he was now alone and also staring at Francis. Even from a distance, she could see the difference in his stance. He looked like a fighter now. Good. She needed him to be a fighter as he slowly crossed the room and found her hateful cousin.

The two men greeted each other and she watched them speak. It all looked very normal and even friendly except that Finn had tucked a tightly clenched fist behind his back. Her cousin laughed at something Finn had said, slapped his arm like they were old friends. She wanted to vomit.

Oh, how she wished she could hear their words. To listen in so she could parse out if Francis said anything of importance that Finn might not catch. Even if he claimed he didn’t, he had to need help. And she needed to be part of this plan. Needed to be the one to see her cousin’s downfall if they could prove he was the villain she believed him to be.

Finn leaned in almost conspiratorially and then motioned to the ballroom doors. Her cousin nodded and together they exited the glittering hall, leaving behind Finn’s guests and the safety of the eyes around them.

Her heart was pounding as she got up and hurried for the stairs that led away from the balcony. She burst into the hallway behind them and drew in a few long breaths. She had no idea where the two men might go for whatever private conversation Finn was arranging. She just knew she had to find them.

She rushed down a servant stairway to the same floor as the ballroom and the other parlors and chambers there. Most doors were closed as she rushed through, keeping half an eye out for servants or partygoers she would be forced to hide from. At last she turned down a side hall and saw a light flickering from one of the rooms. From her earlier self-guided tour, she remembered it being Finn’s study. Of course he would take her cousin there. It was his domain and private. The perfect place to press him.

She edged closer to the door and leaned in toward the crack. The two men were sitting by the fire already, drinks in hand and a bottle on the table between them. She pushed the door just a fraction so she could hear better and held her breath as she waited for some explosive piece of evidence to be revealed that would prove her fears and perhaps change the course of her life.

E ver since he and Marianne redecorated it after his father’s death, Finn had loved his study. It felt like his , a full reflection of himself. But now, sitting in his favorite chair by the fire, he was only uncomfortable because he was seated across from Esme’s cousin and all he wanted to do was slam the man through a wall.

He was so very small, the new marquess. Since they’d left the ball together for this private discussion, he’d hardly drawn breath, talking endlessly about vulgar topics like money and the attributes of the ladies in the hall not thirty paces away.

He was nothing like his uncle, certainly. And Finn despised him for that and for everything he’d done to steal Esme’s choices and make her feel she had to run to save her life.

“I must say, this is a fine whisky,” Chilton said, chugging another big gulp.

Finn leaned forward. He knew the man had already had two glasses of wine in the ballroom and now nearly an entire tumbler of whisky. Esme had said he’d edge around the topic of her father’s death when he was in his cups, so perhaps that was the path to Finn’s discovery, as well.

He topped off Chilton’s glass. “It is,” he agreed. “Your uncle agreed, it was his favorite when he’d come to call.”

Chilton had been smiling, but now that fell and his gaze narrowed. “Did he? I had no idea.” He took another long sip, taking half of the refilled glass rather than savoring it.

“He also liked his billiards on those nights,” Finn pressed. “We were fairly evenly matched, though I was driven to best him. Perhaps you and I could play some time and determine if you also inherited his skill at the game.”

Chilton emptied his glass in a gulp and refilled it himself this time. “I’ve never been much for billiards. And I don’t like comparisons between my uncle and I.”

Finn nodded. And there it was. The animus he’d sensed when they’d discussed the late Chilton earlier was back in the edge to the new marquess’s tone. Good. That meant he was getting under the man’s skin a fraction.

“I can understand that,” Finn pressed carefully. “He would be a hard man to live up to.”

Chilton’s grip tightened on his glass. “Not as hard as some might think.”

“Hmmm.” Finn fought not to glare at this man who could so easily dismiss a person who had been so good and decent. “Well, perhaps I place my own feelings on the matter. I find I struggle with his death even now. It was such a sudden, unexplained illness that seemed to come from nowhere.”

Francis lifted his gaze from his drink and looked at Finn, holding his stare evenly now. There was a flicker to his look, an edge that put Finn on edge in return. “Yes.”

“He was never one to get ill.”

“And yet he did,” Francis said with a shrug. “I suppose he should have been more careful.”

“Careful?” Finn repeated and felt his brow wrinkle. “How could he have avoided such a fate?”

There was a shadow of a smile that moved over Francis’s face, but he didn’t answer the question. “Is that why you brought me here then? To whinge about my late uncle?”

“It is an undeniable tragedy,” Finn said, ignoring the nastiness to the other man’s tone. “And then it was followed by the sudden disappearance of your cousin. What was her name?”

“Charlotte,” Francis said, and his gaze now held Finn’s firmly. “Did you know her, to be so impacted by her disappearance?”

“No. My sister mentioned her tonight when you entered the hall. I’d all but forgotten about her, to be honest. I saw her father mostly at his club or at my own home here.”

“Oh yes, Fitzhugh’s,” Francis said with a scoffing laugh. “My uncle certainly never gave a damn about appearances.”

Finn set his jaw. “You seem to have disdain for the man.”

“How could I not? He was a weak-hearted fool, always wasting his time and money trying to fix broken wings.” Francis had finished another glass of whisky and poured again. His words were becoming slurred now, but he kept on. “And the way he spoiled that little bitch of a daughter of his.”

Finn gripped the arms of his chair harder. He wanted so badly to come out of it and slam a fist into this man, but that would do him no good. “But you must have concerns about her whereabouts,” he pressed.

Francis shrugged. “Why? The little hellcat probably ran off to fuck every man on the continent. I could care less if she’s alive or dead.”

The rage was building now, burning in Finn’s throat. He might have done something about it. Might have moved on this piece of utter shite, but there was a soft sound from the hallway that drew his attention. A little gasp.

He jerked his head toward the door and saw it was farther open than it had been when they entered. He thought he saw a flash of movement there. Francis, of course, wasn’t paying enough attention to notice, which was good because Finn had a sneaking suspicion he knew who had been lurking there.

He pushed to his feet. “You know, I ought to return to my guests. But I would love to finish this conversation another time.”

The other man looked him up and down. “Certainly a friendship between our two houses could be very powerful. If you’d wish to continue that, I’m amenable.”

Finn swallowed back bile and motioned to the door. “I’ll let you find your way back to the ballroom while I take care of a small matter before I rejoin the party. I’ll send my man with an invitation later in the week.”

“Very good.” Francis started up the hallway toward the ballroom and when he was out of sight, Finn pivoted toward the parlor that was next to his study.

He pushed into the room and looked around. The fire in here was cold and the curtains were drawn. It appeared empty, but as the light from the hallway hit the room, he thought he saw the slightest motion behind the curtains.

He closed the door behind himself and crossed the room in a few long steps. He yanked the curtains apart to find Esme standing in the moonlight, her fist cocked back. He only just lifted his arm for a block as she swung.

E sme hit the muscle of Finn’s forearm rather than his cheek as she swung with her full might. She was just as pleased. She’d only swung because she wasn’t certain it was him who’d come into the room rather than her cousin.

He caught her arms and tugged them down at her sides, holding her there with his superior strength as he pushed her back into the well of the window.

“I said no,” he growled, his face close to hers.

She panted as she stared up at him, his expression positively feral in the shimmering moonlight. That was what was under the sleek facade of an earl. She’d felt it when he made love to her. She saw it now in his anger toward her. Both made her shiver with arousal she shouldn’t feel.

“You have no right to say anything,” she said back, pushing at his arms.

He refused to release her. “Don’t I? I am trying to help you, Esme!”

Now she pushed harder and broke his hold, pivoting on her back foot and spinning away from him into the main area of the room where she’d have more space to maneuver. “Are you? I stood in that hallway and watched as you did nothing while he disparaged my father.”

He threw up his hands. “In order to build some trust with the bastard. It took all the control I could muster not to rip the man apart piece by piece when he spoke so harshly about your father and about you.”

She flinched. Yes, he’d said horrible things about her, as well. She’d let them slip off, rolling from her like water because she couldn’t bear to listen to what he’d likely told everyone she’d ever known or cared for. That Finn included her in his rage toward her cousin was…comforting.

And what he said about building trust made sense, damn him. She folded her arms. “I…can understand that.”

“Well, thank you very much,” he said with sarcasm dripping from every word. “But none of it is the fucking point. How long have you been here?”

“In the hallway?” she asked, lifting her chin because she knew that wasn’t what he was asking.

His eyes fluttered shut out of frustration. “Please.”

She shrugged. “I slipped in through the servants’ entrance while everyone was busy with final preparation and immediately snuck up to the balcony. The door to it was locked, as you said it would be, but I picked it.”

“You picked the lock,” he repeated. “I don’t know whether to be impressed by all this or even more exasperated.”

“I was correct about what I said before. No one even knew I was up in the rafters, watching them dance and play without a care. I was perfectly safe.”

“And when you followed me and the man you believed murdered your father? The one you were so afraid of that you bolted from your life and home like a spooked rabbit?”

She clenched her hands before her. She really had no response to that charge. It had been reckless, something Jane and Ripley would have railed at her about, as well.

Finn stepped closer. “What if he’d seen you?” His voice was ragged. “What if he’d heard you like I did? I said I would handle this, Esme.”

She shook her head. “And why should I trust you? I don’t even know you.”

“Don’t you?” He closed whatever small remaining distance there was between them and now he invaded her space completely. Her mind and soul, as well. “Well, I know you. You are hard as steel thanks to everything you’ve gone through. You’re a fighter in reality, a fighter in every way that the word could be defined. But you’ve spent years taking care of everything for yourself and now I am here .”

All her breath had left her lungs with that assessment that struck her to her core. Now she stared at him, unable to stop shaking. “Why?”

His expression softened slightly and he reached out to cup her cheek. His fingers, still clad in gloves, traced her jawline. “Because of your father.” He drew a short breath and shook his head. “Because of you , Esme. Because I can’t not be here. I look at you and I must be here. I’m not walking away. Please, please trust me.”

He was too close and yet somehow not close enough. Her world was spinning and she gripped his forearms in a wild attempt to find purchase. But touching him only brought need, harsh, undeniable need that filled the holes in her left behind by loss and sorrow and fear.

She lifted on her tiptoes and caught his cheeks. She tugged him to her, finding no resistance, and then she kissed him. There was hunger to his kiss the moment it began and he crushed her closer, his mouth devouring and pleasing and driving. She moaned against him, unable to think or bargain when they were staggering together toward the settee in front of the cold fire.

He fell first, seating himself, and she straddled over him, lifting against him as he cupped her to him and ground her down to feel his desire for her. She whimpered, increasing the kiss, rubbing him like a cat in heat, needing his touch the same way she needed breath, no matter how foolhardy an admission that was.

He seemed to know it. He pushed at her gown and chemise with a curse that was muffled against her lips. Together they fought the straining buttons of his trousers and then his cock was free to brush against her inner thigh.

She moaned with pleasure and lifted, positioning him against her entrance before she took him in one slick heavy thrust. They gasped together, foreheads touching, bodies lifting and falling in unison. He cupped her closer, she rode him recklessly and found herself at the edge so swiftly that she could scarcely believe it. What this man did to her…it was unbelievable.

She came with a gulping gasp he caught on his tongue, and he lifted to meet her jerky thrusts of her hips. He increased his tempo from below, his neck straining, his hands gripping her. Then he slid her back gently and came between them, spilling himself beneath her skirts as they both cried out with pleasure.

His fingers gripped looser on her skin as their breath matched and his arms came around to hold her closer. “Go to my chamber,” he said softly, his words tickling her neck. “Wait for me there. We can discuss this situation further after the ball.”

She stiffened at the order, there was no denying that’s what it was, but fought her urge to refuse him just for the sake of keeping control. That hadn’t gotten her anything but his intense frustration in the end. And to be truthful, she was tired now. Wrung out emotionally and physically. She needed space from everything that happened tonight before she faced off with him again and tried to keep distance from everything he stirred up in her mind and soul.

“Esme,” he whispered, lifting his gaze to hers.

“Yes,” she murmured before she dropped her lips for another long, drugging kiss that made her want to just take him back into her body and never let him go. At least when they were tangled in each other, everything made sense.

She stood and he stuffed himself back into place, swiftly becoming the proper earl again as if he hadn’t just made her quiver around his cock thirty feet from the ballroom where the world celebrated his sister’s engagement.

She smoothed her skirts, feeling the wet heat of him against her skin, loving that it was her secret beneath her clothes. She moved to the door and together they peeked out into the empty hallway. She gave him one more glance before she tiptoed away to the backstairs where she could creep into his room and regroup.

She had to for her own sake. Because this man was like quicksand and she was starting to want to stay in the mire even if it might swallow her up in the end.