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.
Finn 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.”
