“What happened?” she asked, “was it His Grace?”
Ester nodded, unable to speak. Then she shook her head.
“Oh, Molly, what am I to do?” she cried, “Is—is he here?”
“No, I saw him going off towards the north wing calling your name. He didn’t see me,” Molly assured her.
Ester breathed a sigh of relief. “He… he did nothing to me,” she finally began. “…Nothing that I did not want anyway. But it triggered a memory. A very bad memory, and suddenly, I—I felt so trapped. Like I was caught in a vice and it was closing on me, crushing me. I couldn’t breathe. I had to get away. Oh, lord, but he is going to put this down to the curse, isn’t he?”
Molly nodded somberly and Ester laughed bitterly in return.
“I might even start believing in it if I’m not careful.”
Another bout of coughing wracked her. Her chest felt as though it had been through a grater.
“I think being up on top of that tower was a silly thing to do in your condition. That cold air don’t do no one no good, if you ask me. Let me get you into a nice warm room with a fire and hot posset to ease your chest,” Molly said, kindly.
Ester nodded, accepting Molly’s help to get to her feet. Looking her up and down, Molly suddenly chuckled.
“Begging your pardon, Miss, but you don’t half look silly in that dress. Not really your size, is it?”
The skirt came to an end two inches short of Ester’s feet and the bust was too large. Ester found herself laughing along with the maid, despite the tears fresh on her cheeks.
“I hope my own clothes are suitable soon. There should be no danger in Julian seeking more kisses when I no longer look like this…”
Ester clamped a hand across her mouth, eyes going wide. Molly did the same, and after a moment of staring at each other in shock, they both burst into laughter.
“Oh my, oh my. You don’t half say some things, Miss. I do declare,” Molly exclaimed. “Begging your pardon, but what wasit that made you… you know, run away from him? He’s a well-set-up fellow, handsome and tall. I don’t think I would say no. Look at that, you’ve got me at it now as well!”
Ester shook her head. “Something that happened to me once. A man calling himself a gentleman who…”
Molly held up a hand. “Say no more, Miss. I understand. Men can be like that. For what it’s worth, His Grace is a proper gentleman. Rough around the edges, if you ask me, with a sharp tongue at times. But a true gentleman. He will feel really guilty for his part in your distress.”
Ester impulsively hugged the maid, bursting into tears once more.
“Now then, Miss! You’ll have me going in a minute,” Molly protested.
She led Ester back to the guest room and busied herself building a fire while Ester sat awkwardly on the bed. She thought about the moment that Julian’s passion had built to such a degree that he had touched her breasts. It had brought a wave of pleasure that had been almost unbearable.
But at that moment, a face had swam up in her memory. The mocking, leering smile of the Viscount Kingsley. Her body had become as cold as ice and her sensations numbed.
Now she felt dizzy.
The cough was coming more frequently and harder each time, it seemed. As promised, Molly soon left the room to fetch a hot posset and a pot of chamomile tea to relax her, and honey to soothe her throat. Ester sat still as a mouse as the room slowly warmed. But she did not feel it. Her body remained icy and numb.
Was this her own curse? That in the arms of a dashing, handsome man, she was cursed to become a frigid, terrified wreck, unable to escape the memory of what had happened to her once?
CHAPTER NINE
Asleepless night passed sluggishly for Julian. The moments in which he had closed his eyes brought only fitful dreams of Emily Granger, interspersed with visions of a wraithlike creature with shoulder-length white hair and skeletal hands that reached for him. He knew it to be the shade of his father, still vengeful for the crimes Julian had committed. Such dreams eventually drove Julian from his bed, abandoning any attempt at sleep.
He went instead to his study, garbed in a floor-length dressing robe, gloves carefully stowed in the belt that secured the garment. He methodically went through his correspondence, which had been ignored since the adventure of the night before. A letter from his erstwhile business partner, providing details of investments which he regarded as suitable for their joint enterprise.
Opening the bureau at which he sat, Julian dipped a pen into a waiting bottle of ink and made some notes in the margin of the letter. There were few people that Julian trusted enough to enterinto business with. The man he had chosen was one of those few, known to Julian since his time growing up in the household of the good Doctor Hakesmere. A partner enabled Julian to engage in business dealings without revealing himself in town, avoiding unwelcome questions about the gloves or the legend that surrounded him.
Hours passed before dawn finally lit the study, finding Julian drowsing in his chair. No one book or item of correspondence had been able to hold his attention for long. Eventually, Emily’s beautiful face and delicate, pale skin swam up before his eyes.
Grief tore at him, that a creature so lovely was doomed by his curse.
