“Thank you, Your Grace,” Molly replied, still breathless.
“NotYour Grace, Molly,” Ester corrected gently, releasing her. “I am no Duchess.”
The young maid’s visage lit with a sheepish smile. “Oh, do forgive me, my lady. I was getting ahead of myself. But it is as plain as day.” She leaned in and lowered her voice, “Even Henry was agreeing when I brought it up to him earlier.”
Ester raised a brow, amusement tugging at the corners of her lips. “Is that so? Oh dear. I did wonder why the boy felt as nervous as a debutante at her first assembly. Well, it is immensely flattering, but not a possibility I’m afraid.”
“But why ever not, Miss?” Molly asked, innocently. “As I said, it is as plain as the nose on your face. To us anyway. Why, I even caught His Grace walking about with his gloves on today. Gave me quite a start, it did.”
Ester’s smile faltered and she regarded Molly seriously. “You don’t believe in that old curse, do you?”
Molly hesitated before nodding. “Well, His Grace seemed to believe in it, Miss. So, yes, I suppose I did. We all did. Though I ought to confess, I’d never heard of the like before.”
“Molly, it is not true,” Ester said softly. “I am living proof of it, aren’t I?”
The maid’s eyes widened, struck with the realization. “Yes, you did get better after you was sick and we all thought you was a goner. Blimey! I am ever so glad, I don’t mind telling you.” She paused, chewing her lip nervously. “But… well, can I be plain, Miss?”
Ester nodded and Molly glanced down before continuing, her voice quiet but filled with conviction. “I think you and His Grace make a good pair, and I have never seen him look at anything the way he looks at you. Not that there have been any other ladies here, but still... the way he looks at you, it reminds me of howHenry looks at me. And... well, you look at His Grace the same way.”
Ester sank onto the old chaise, moving the swathes of books aside. Molly took the seat beside her as Ester let her head fall back against the cushion with a heavy sigh.
“I wish it were that simple. If I confess something to you, Molly, will you swear that you will tell nobody? Not even Henry?”
Molly made the sign of the cross over her heart. “On my eternal soul, Miss. You can trust me.”
Ester wavered, took a deep breath, then spoke. “I would dearly love to marry Julian. But there is the shadow of scandal that hangs over me. Julian believes he can solve it but I will suffer no risk to his name or reputation. If the scandal is truly dealt with, then the next best thing I can do is go back to my family and live quietly.”
Molly frowned slightly. “And does His Grace want the same thing?”
“I… I don’t know,” she confessed, her voice unsteady. “We never really spoke about it. But it is impossible. The only reason I allowed myself to be alone with him was because I thought I should never cross paths with him again...” She absently reached for a book she had set aside moments earlier, then held the cover up for the maid to see. “Perfect strangers…”
Ester trailed off, realizing what she had inadvertently confessed to without intention. She put a hand to her mouth, eyes wide. Molly smiled and giggled.
“I am your lady’s maid, and I think I shall be maid to a duchess no matter what you say. And if you and the Duke have shared more than a kiss, there is no harm in that as far as I’m concerned. But rest easy. It will go no further. On my life.”
Ester felt a flood of relief wash over her, angry at herself for letting her mouth run but relieved at the simple, unwavering loyalty of this young girl. She wondered if it was truly possible to be both mistress and friend at the same time. She would certainly like to be friends with all those who served her. She stopped that train of thought before it could lead to hope. The idea of marrying Julian, of becoming his duchess, was a dream she could never allow herself to hold onto. Not ever.
Though they might have rescued him from the clutches of his curse, she would never be free of her own.
“I would like to consider you my friend, Molly. I do not believe, as you do, that I will be a duchess one day. But I hope to keep you as a friend,” Ester said softly.
Molly’s response was cut short as the door swung open with a violent crash, slamming against the wall. A man stood in the doorway. Ester did not recognize his high-cheeked face with its prominent nose. From the way his eyes narrowed and a thin smile broke across his lips, he recognized her. When he spoke, though, Ester remembered him.
“Miss Fairchild! Oh, how I am eternally pleased to have found you!” Harper said, stepping further into the room, closing the door behind him with a deliberate click.
Without so much as a glance back, he turned the key in the lock, removing it swiftly.
Ester felt a surge of panic, her limbs frozen in place. Her mind went back to the night in Handbridge, the ball at which she had found herself cornered and isolated by the Viscount Kingsley. Then the night at Theydon’s Mere, when despair and humiliation had driven her to seek oblivion. Her throat tightened, restricting her ability to speak. Or scream. He had long-fingered hands and brown hair that he moved from his temple with an affected tilt of his head and brush with the back of his hand. His eyes never left her.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
The young maid had jumped up and dropped into a curtsy as though it were an automatic reaction. Then she seemed to really see the newcomer for the first time.
“Mr. Harper? What are you doing snooping about the castle?”
“I needed to—” Harper drew breath, as if to reply, but then faltered. He glanced at Ester, then back to Molly, and the air seemed to leave him. Hands clasped before him, he cast his eyes to the floor.
“You are quite right, of course. It is not my place,” he murmured, his tone far more subdued than before. “Ah… what you both must think of me.”
