Chapter 22

CHAPTER 22

E sme smiled as she looked around the soft pinks and yellows that decorated Marianne’s old room. There was a sweetness to the chamber, with its ragged toys lined along one windowsill as if they were old friends, the remnants of girlish days past. It made her wonder what had happened to her own old stuffed bear toy, Mr. Nix. It was likely her rotten cousin had burned him, along with everything else she’d ever owned. A depressing thought, indeed, to be erased from history so easily.

Marianne came into the bedroom from the dressing chamber with a few gowns draped over her arm. “These are older, of course. I’ve lived in my own home for several years, but we needn’t be the most fashionable for a friendly family supper. And I honestly always liked the higher waists from the gowns three years ago. They’re a little lower now and I always feel they hit me wrong.”

“They could not,” Esme said with a smile she didn’t have to force. “You are so utterly lovely in that yellow, I cannot imagine you look anything but perfect in whatever you wear.”

Marianne blushed and set the dresses on the bed, then smoothed her skirt. “Oh, that’s very kind.”

Esme found herself taking a step toward the gowns, drawn in by the beautiful fabrics and the fine cuts. She had almost forgotten what those things were like. She touched the silk of a dark green dress and jerked her hand back. Her palms were too rough for such a thing, it seemed, but the fabric was so lovely, with little swirls and in the slightest lighter green than the main color.

“I wouldn’t even know what was in fashion anymore,” she murmured.

“You’d be fashionable and beautiful in a sack, I think,” Marianne said, and stepped in to spread the dresses out along the bed to show them off more fully. “Oh, how I used to envy how lovely and confident you were.”

“Did you?” Esme shook her head. She had put all those memories away to protect herself.

“Of course I did, Charlotte,” Marianne said.

Esme flinched. “I go by Esme now.”

She waited for that sentence to be questioned or her request to be refused, but Marianne only inclined her head and squeezed Esme’s hand. “Forgive me, Esme . I used to stand on the wall with my friend Claudia and we’d always talk about how you were one of our favorite diamonds of any season. Not only did you shine, but you were never unkind.”

Tears suddenly stung Esme’s eyes and she turned away so Marianne wouldn’t see. “Th-thank you. I remember Claudia. How is she?”

Marianne’s lower lip wobbled. “She…she died very recently.”

“I’m so sorry,” Esme whispered.

There was a moment’s pause and then Marianne gently filled the silence. “That first gown you admired is such a pretty green. It almost perfectly matches your lovely eyes. Would you like to try it on? I could help you.”

Oh, Esme hadn’t thought of that. Someone would need to help her with her gown. With just the one exception, she had made gowns that were easy for her to manage herself. When Jane wasn’t present, she had no one to depend on and she didn’t want to have to do so. But in her old life, in Marianne’s life, there were maids and friends to help.

“I’d be grateful for the assistance,” Esme said, and began to unhook her dress.

She realized she still had her leather corset beneath and her cheeks heated. It was for fighting, a layer of protection during sparring and the like. But to a woman like Marianne, especially when she had seen what she’d seen in the ring earlier, it must have seemed scandalous. She unlaced it hurriedly and set it aside.

“You—you must be shocked by everything you encountered today,” she said softly as she stepped into the gown while Marianne held it.

Marianne’s little laugh as she moved behind Esme to fasten the dress surprised her. “I won’t say I expected to find my brother like that, no. But as Sebastian said, it makes us even.”

Esme bent her head, her cheeks heating further. After all, she knew exactly what Marianne meant. Finn had told her about his shock in finding his sister and best friend in a highly compromising position before their engagement.

“I can see by your expression that Finn told you about it,” Marianne said, finishing the last button and coming around to look at her. “Oh, that fits you perfectly, Esme. Like it was made for you. Look at yourself.”

She stepped aside and Esme stepped to the mirror and caught her breath. She could almost see herself five years ago, entering a ball on her father’s arm, her greatest care then was if she could avoid some gentleman who wasn’t her favorite dance partner.

“It is beautiful. Are you certain you wish me to wear it?” she asked with a quick glance toward Marianne.

“I wish you to have it if you’d like. It’s been sitting in my wardrobe for years, and I never looked half so fine in it. It should be on the shoulders of a woman who looks so well in it.”

“I couldn’t—” Esme began.

Marianne waved her hand. “Would you like to try on any others?”

Esme glanced at the other gowns. There was a lovely powder-blue dress, another in raspberry pink that caught her eye, but she didn’t want to be greedy. She also didn’t want to open the door to the past too much. She didn’t want to miss this when it was over, or always stare in the mirror when she was back to herself and wish she had fine things. It was best not to wish for items…or people…that were so out of reach.

“This is perfect,” she said.

“Good. Now I’m not the best at fixing hair, but I am tolerable. Would you like me to try? If not, I can find a maid, though I doubt Phineas has anyone on staff who has much practice since I left.”

“If you don’t mind,” Esme said.

Marianne motioned to a seat at her old dressing table and began opening drawers. “I think I left some things…oh yes, a brush, some pins, it will all do nicely. How clever of me to have done so.”

Esme tried to relax as Marianne began to brush out her hair. It had been a lifetime since someone else did that and she almost purred at the glorious feeling.

After a moment, Marianne said, “I suppose when you said I must be shocked, you weren’t just talking about finding my brother and you so…entangled. You mean seeing you after all these years.”

Esme opened her eyes and looked in the mirror so she could examine Marianne’s expression behind her. There was no unkindness or morbid curiosity to her face. But then, she didn’t think this young woman could feel those things. She truly was compassionate and nothing more. No wonder her brother and her fiancé so adored her. She was lucky, and so were they. It made Esme’s heart ache.

She swallowed past those thoughts. “It must have taken a Herculean effort to wait so long to ask me.”

In the reflection of the mirror, Marianne met her gaze with a smile. “It’s rude of me to press.”

“You’d be odd if you didn’t have thoughts about my sudden reappearance.” Esme shrugged. “Especially since I know my cousin has said some things about where I went.”

Marianne’s lips pursed as if that angered her on Esme’s behalf. “All I care about is that you are well,” she said. “When you disappeared there were many fears from your friends and acquaintances.”

“And those awful rumors.”

Marianne shook her head. “Well, there will always be rumors, I think. I refuse to stop living to avoid them. Not ever again.”

Esme blinked in surprise. Ladies of this kind were often ruled by rumor and gossip, fearful of courting it. And yet Marianne didn’t seem to care. She began to carefully twist Esme’s locks to fashion them into a pretty style. The quiet hung between them a moment and Esme braced for Marianne to press her more on her past, her disappearance.

“Perhaps in time you’ll feel comfortable enough to tell me. I can wait.” Marianne pressed a pin between her lips and her voice was slightly muffled when she asked, “Was there anything you have wanted to know since you left Society? Any people you’ve missed and wanted updates about?”

Esme’s lips parted. Once again, instead of being grilled for information, she was being offered kindness and some semblance of normalcy. It was almost overwhelming.

“I…I was close friends with Gillian Highgrove, the Viscount Highgrove’s second daughter,” she said.

“Oh, Gillian,” Marianne said with a wide smile. “You’ll be pleased to know she fell madly in love with Gregory Parson, the grandson of the Marquess Culpepper.”

“He was very handsome—she always liked him,” Esme said. “So a love match!”

“Indeed.” Marianne laughed. “They occasionally shock the world by kissing on the dancefloor in the middle of balls.”

“And she was always so proper,” Esme gasped.

“Love changes everything.”

They giggled together as Marianne continued her work, chatting about friends and even a few rivals. It felt so normal and lovely to talk like this with a friend that Esme actually relaxed with every moment she spent with Marianne. Even though, in her heart, she knew it was all an illusion. But she was going to enjoy every moment of it while it lasted.

F inn entered the parlor where everyone else was gathered before supper and nearly fell over. Esme stood at the fireplace talking to Marianne and Sebastian, and she looked so beautiful that he couldn’t breathe. The dress she wore was green—it must have been one of his sister’s gowns, but he certainly didn’t remember it. It looked like it had been made for Esme, clinging to her lovely curves before it fell across the long lines of her body. Her red hair was twisted and curled in a very pretty, if simple fashion. She was stunning.

He crossed to her in three long strides, hardly noticing how the other two stepped away to allow them a moment.

He took her hand and she stared up at him, eyes soft in the firelight. “You are so beautiful, I can hardly find words,” he said.

She glanced down at herself, cheeks pinkening. “Yes, it seems the costume still fits.”

“It’s not the costume, Esme. It’s you. Only you.” He glanced at his sister, who now stood at the sideboard with Sebastian, letting him pour her a drink while they talked with their faces far too close. “Did my sister pry?”

“No,” Esme said with a smile toward her. “I know she’s curious, how could she not be, but she was nothing but kind, just as I recalled her to be.” Sebastian began to twirl a lock of Marianne’s hair around his fingertip and both of them looked away at the same time. “Er, what about him?”

“He’s the best friend I’ve ever had and occasionally the deepest thorn in my side,” Finn admitted with a little laugh. “He asked. I didn’t tell him.”

Her brow wrinkled. “Why?”

“Because it’s not my story.”

Her expression softened and she took his hand and squeezed it gently. The door to the parlor opened and Bentley stepped into the room. “Supper is served, my lords and ladies.”

Finn smiled at her and then held out his elbow. She stared at it for a moment, but then slid her hand into the crook and they led the way to the dining room up the hall. It all felt so right, so normal, so perfect.

Because it was a small gathering, the foursome had been placed together at once end of the large table. Finn was at the head, Marianne to one side with Sebastian beside her and Esme to the other. She shifted a little as they settled into their chairs, her discomfort at having the wondering eyes on her clearly bothering her.

Food was brought out and Finn was pleased that neither Sebastian nor Marianne brought up anything about her past. They talked of the usual things: weather, books, a play they’d gone to see, and occasionally the wedding the next day. They were both so relaxed about that, so sure, that it made Finn’s continuing uncertainty about his earlier confession of love all the sharper.

And they tried to include Esme in the talk. She answered questions about books admirably, but many of the topics were about things she was no longer connected to. And with every question, he saw her face draw down.

Finally, after three quarters of an hour, she set her fork on the edge of her plate and let out a long sigh. “You are both very kind to steer away from the awkwardness in the room that is my being here. But I know you must have questions that I think no one has yet answered.”

Finn stiffened and reached out to cover her hand. It was very cold, the only indication of how fearful all this made her. He met her gaze. “Esme, you don’t have to. It’s your story.”

She gave him a sad smile. “No, it’s become ours , at least this part. And because it involves you, because it might endanger you, I think it’s only fair to include those you love most in what has come to pass.”

“Endanger?” Marianne said softly. “What does that mean? How would Finn be endangered?”

Finn felt Esme’s pain, throbbing just below the surface. He hoped, prayed, she could feel his support just as keenly. If she would spill herself out, he at least didn’t want her to feel alone when she did it. She’d been far too alone for far too long. She deserved a champion, and by God he would be that as long as she allowed it. If that was the only way he could show his love, have it received, then it was what he wanted to do better than anything he’d ever done in his life.

He only hoped he could.