Jennifer chose that moment to come in from the kitchen. She bobbed into a small curtsy when she saw them by the fire. “Beg pardon, milady. Shall I clear the table?”
Esme tried to order her thoughts. “Lord Jonah has not yet broken his fast. Leave it for a while, if you please, Jennifer.”
When the maid left the room, Adam once again took her hands inside his. The urge to lean into his strength and comfort was almost overwhelming, but she knew she must stand tall.
“Any shame belongs to Crispin. ’Tis not yours to bear,” he declared.
She met this gaze. “My foolishness, then,” she amended.
“Nay, Esme. I will not hear this.”
“And I will not deny it.” She made her voice level. “I made a mistake. A foolish mistake. ’Twould be wrong of me to pretend otherwise.”
“You allowed yourself to be deceived by a man who set out to charm you. That is no great crime.”
His calm insistence broke through her barriers, and she smiled up at him, some of the tension leaving her body. “Not all would see it that way, but it makes my heart glad to know that you do. Iwasa fool, but I shall know better in the future.”
“Forsooth, you are very wise.” He paused to push back a tendril of her hair. “You said something this morn that has made me see everything differently.”
A warm feeling of pleasure ran through her, at his words as well as his touch. “What did I say?”
“That I should dare to dream.” He cupped his palm about her face, looking deeply into her eyes. “I am endeavoring to do so.”
Her breath caught in her throat. It would be the most natural thing in the world to stand on her tiptoes and press her lips to his. But a voice spoke in her ear and urged restraint. This was no time for girlish gaiety.
Later, there would be time for kisses and dreams.
Esme placed her hand atop his and took a steadying breath. “I am happy to hear it. This gives me courage to face what is to come.”
Adam gave a slight nod, seemingly privy to the run of her thoughts. “Should I fetch him now?”
Her lips quirked. “I suppose we cannot delay indefinitely.”
He dropped a chaste kiss onto the top of her head. “Have faith, Esme.”
With that he strode in the direction of the servant’s staircase, leaving her alone. Esme clasped her hands together and gazed fixedly at the fire. She wanted to pace, to release some frustration by pounding the wooden floorboards, but she would not give Crispin the satisfaction of coming into the room and seeing her ill at ease.
She could not countenance him thinking he still had the ability to make her heart pound.
They are taking an unholy amount of time.
She spun around to face the servants’ staircase, willing the panel to open and for Adam to appear, but the door remained resolutely closed. A pressure against her calves made her look down to see Felicity winding about her ankles. The little cat mewed, as if sensing her distress.
“Are you come to give me comfort?” Esme asked idly, reaching down to stroke her.
Felicity purred loudly, arching her back with her tail stuck straight in the air.
Esme was about to scoop her up, when the sound of trampling footsteps made her pause. She had just straightened her back when the door to the servants’ staircase opened, and a familiar figure emerged.
Crispin.
The same chestnut curls and glinting eyes which had once made her knees weaken. Though now she fought a wave of nausea at his confident smile.
“Good morn, sweet Esme.”
“’Tis not the best of morns, for you,” she replied tartly, nodding toward his bound wrists.
But Crispin merely shrugged. “I see my betrothed, looking lovely as ever. And a table fair groaning with foodstuffs.” At this announcement, Crispin’s stomach audibly rumbled. “I am not an ambitious man, Esme. I do not seek more than that.”
