She nodded, though it cost her dear. “’Tis true,” she half whispered. “Though ’tis also true that I was not anticipating Crispin’s return this night.”
As an explanation, ’twas woefully inadequate. Adam must think so to. She saw his incredulity do battle with something worse as he sheathed his sword.
He fixed his gaze away from Esme and gave a perfunctory bow. “Forgive the interruption, sir. Milady. I will leave you, now.”
“Stay a while.” Crispin waved his hand. “We intend to leave for Wolvesley at first light. Can you make sure the carriage is ready?”
Esme winced to hear Crispin give orders to Adam; a man worth so much more than he, in every way that mattered.
But Adam stood firm. “I do not serve the Earl of Wolvesley. Nor do I serve the de Nevilles. I am here only as a favor to Sir Callum Baine. But if my services are no longer required, I will also be leaving at first light.”
With that, he swiveled on his heel and was gone.
The only man who might have saved her.
But how can anyone save me, when this trap is entirely of my own making?
Esme wanted to sob. More than that, she wanted to run after Adam and beg his assistance. But she could only stand by the dying fire with the man she must now wed.
Crispin yawned widely. “It has been a long day, but a dare believe it has ended well. Time for bed, sweet Esme.”
His hand at her waist made her nauseous. She deftly stepped out of reach. “Very wise, Crispin. Though I am afraid ’tis too late to expect the maid to make up a guest chamber. You must sleep here, before the fire.” She was about to add that she would fetch him a blanket, but she changed her mind.
He was not so easily dissuaded. “Will I not keep you company in your own chamber?”
Esme shook her head. “Not until we are married in the eyes of my father,” she said firmly. “Good night, Crispin.”
She walked from the room without a backwards glance, not hesitating until her chamber door was bolted behind her. Then she sank back against the wooden panel and allowed her despair to surface.
What now?
She had little choice but to return to Wolvesley on Crispin’s arm, as Crispin’s betrothed. ’Twas an outcome she would have longed for, just days earlier. But now the prospect filled her with a mixture of dread and grief.
Dread for the loveless years ahead.
Grief for the joy she might have known with Adam.
Esme blinked back her tears, focusing on the glow of candlelight from the dresser to keep her rooted in the present moment.
Her mother had long taught her to face the hardships of life without flinching. “What can’t be cured, must be endured,”was a favorite saying. But so was, “Fortune’s wheel never stops turning.”
Esme clung onto the thought, picturing her mother’s finely drawn face and kind eyes. “Things have a way of working themselves out,” she would say to her children, whenever they railed at some injustice.
Things had certainly worked out for Frida, happily married to Callum even though, for a while, he had been their brother’s sworn enemy.
Likewise for Tristan, ensconced in domestic harmony with Mirrie, though for years he was blind to her and the love she had for him.
Esme pressed her lips together. Rather than feeling envious toward her siblings, she allowed these reflections to give her a flicker of hope.
Hope that was born out almost straight away, when a tentative knock sounded at her door.
Esme spun around and shot back the bolt. She did not need to ask who was there.
It must be Adam, come to put things right.
Chapter Fifteen
Ihave beena damned fool, again.
