It took about a mile before she offered a hint of a smile.
He put his eyes back on the road, not this mysterious girl who’d just risked everything for him. The countess would never have risked herself like this. That onesurprisedinner with Phineas in tow, the woman had detailed their every argument and had even seemed to side with the reporter, asking questions about Arthur’s past. She had even cast doubts on his sincerity about his push for abolition.
But the countess hadn’t known the truth. He had certainly not shared the haunting memories that never went away.
A glance at Ester, fidgeting with all her buttons done, made his chest swell. She was with him even to her detriment. Her loyalty couldn’t be questioned. If he opened more of his life to her, would her sympathies remain?
Part of him wanted to confess to her now. Yet, his healthy skepticism screamed,don’t do it, remember how you were shunned.The stakes had risen. He wouldn’t merely be losing someone he found attractive, but perhaps the only person who found him worthy enough that she’d risked her life to save him. That kind of person was too rare. No, he’d not gamble and lose her over things long buried in the sea and in Liverpool’s prisoner’s field. Arthur didn’t think she’d smile at him, not even a hint of one, if the horrid deeds of his uncle became known.
…
Ester sat back against the seat, waiting for Bex to come from the main building of the Travelers Coaching Inn. The noon sun burned outside the limestone walls of the stables, highlighting the pink and gray blocks. She was grateful for the shade and the quiet of the stable hands. No questions about who they were or why, only silence and hard work scrubbing lathered horses, strapping in fresh ones.
The hearty scent of fresh hay overcame that of stale horses and muck. She felt comfortable enough to close her eyes, but she couldn’t. She had to wait for Bex to come back with two rented rooms.
“What city are we near?” she asked one of the grooms who stared at her.
The young man swiped at his light brown hair. “Close to Sheffield.”
It was a place she hadn’t heard of, but it didn’t sound like any city near London. Maybe they were making progress, getting closer to Gretna. Too afraid to ask how far Scotland was from Sheffield and give away their plans, she dipped her head.
Ester inhaled long and deep. Creating a distraction for Bex to subdue the highwayman was the craziest thing she’d ever done, save eloping. What else could she have done, seeing that gun pressed to Bex’s temple?
Never could she sit by and hope things would get better. She had to act, even if it meant pretending to have more courage than she really did. Her hands shook as she clasped her elbows, remembering the fear that had wrapped around her as she’d chosen to dance for the gunman. If Bex had been anyone other than an honorable man, Ester would be dead, or worse than dead.
“All finished up,” the groom said as he clunked his brush in his pail and moved on to another carriage.
She watched the metal bucket slosh soapy water as he carried it away. Could she be envious of a brush because it soaked in water that she imagined was warm and soothing? If Ester were home, she’d be in her room atop her big canopied bed, waiting for her turn in the copper bath. She’d be the second to use it, after Mama, as was her rank in the household of Nineteen Fournier. The sides of the copper tub would still be warm, and Mrs. Fitterwall always brought Ester fresh water.
Curling deeper into the seat and the silky shawl, she closed her eyes. The care of everything drifted away except her hope that Bex would hurry to get them rooms.
The carriage rocked, and when she opened her sleepy eyes, the Travelers Inn was disappearing in the distance. It took at least another minute for her weary soul to realize that there would be no bed, not now.
She forced her eyes to open and focus on Bex.
His hat had been tossed to the floorboards, and his handsome face seemed blank.
Her heart beat hard, and she bolted up. “Did you get in trouble over the highwayman? Are we on the run?”
“No, for his capture, I was thanked.”
That feeling that he was leaving something out pressed at her middle, grounding the butterflies inside that had taken flight upon seeing Bex.
“I can’t stand it.” Bex said, “You’re a wonderful woman, Ester Croome. You risked your life for me, but no single room for you. It’s not fair.”
“So, you think I’m wonderful.”
He turned to her with a forehead riddled with lines. “Is that the only thing you heard?”
“It’s the only thing that matters. Sleeping inside a horrible small inn does not mean as much as hearing you say I’m wonderful, Bex.”
With a shake of his head, he turned back to the road. “Women.”
Almost grinning, she settled back down on the bench but found his arm scooting her closer. “It’s only fair. Put your head on my shoulder if you can reach it. I used you for a pillow yesterday before our highwayman. I still think you shouldn’t have put yourself at risk. Now have at me.”
She trembled at the teasing command, worse than any shiver she’d tried to suppress. “Once we are married, things will be better. We’ll get to know each other without all the differences of our worlds coming between us.”
“Ester, is this what it’s like for you and your friends outside of London? Denial of your humanity? Being treated worse than a criminal?”
