Croome patted at his pocket—his gun pocket. “Bex, you let a slip of a girl drive you to this? How long has this romance been going on?”
Arthur had a feeling that Mr. Croome didn’t know about the advertisement in the paper. He’d at least protect her from that. “Long enough for me to ask her to marry me.”
“That’s not an answer, Bex. Ester, how long? Tell me how long you’ve been running around behind my back.”
Ester slipped in front of Bex and now was a wedge between them. “I’ve been infatuated with Bex for at least two years. You know how I’ve talked about him. So longer than a day, but less than the timing of your indiscretion.”
Croome swiped at his brow then clasped a big hand about Ester’s arm. “We’ll discuss this later. Forget about her, Bex, about all of this. Girl, you’ll be lucky if Jordan takes you at all. We’ve already started installing gaslights in the warehouse. Our businesses are already in bed together. Maybe his son will still want you, and you will be back with your own.”
Shaking her head, Ester pulled free and stepped next to Arthur. “I’m not getting in bed with anyone but him.”
Arthur waved his arm in protest. “Figure of speech, sir. Nothing happened. Don’t shoot.”
“Papa, you don’t need me to do deals with Jordan. You have already done them.” Ester looked up at Arthur, and she had that look in her eye, the one where she made up parts to play. She slammed into him and tossed her arms about him. “If I marry, it will be to Arthur Bex. The man I’ve loved for more than two years. Every one of his performances, whether at the Theatre Royal or Covent Gardens, they’ve been coded messages to me. Every word he’s said on stage, it was for me. Like Antony for Cleopatra, he’s made war for me. I have his heart, for he has mine.” She planted a kiss on Arthur’s lips.
Her words—he didn’t have time to examine them for truth. Arthur knew he was a goner now, so he embraced her boldly, a daughter in front of a father with a gun. But if he was to die, why not let it be in the arms of this African queen? He didn’t hold back on this performance. He kissed Ester with everything in him. It was the perfect way to die, with Arthur as Antony in his Cleopatra’s embrace.
…
Her father groaned. She smelled the scent of black powder but didn’t care. Papa would never take the shot with her arms wrapped about Bex. And this kiss was different. It didn’t feel like goodbye, but something amorous and thrilling. It had to be the threat of the gunpowder.
“Stop it, Ester. Unhand him. You’ve made your point.”
Clinging to his neck, she held Bex more tightly, and he wound his good arm about her. “Only if you promise not to kill him. As you see, I’m a very willing participant.”
Bex’s heart raced against her cheek.
He lifted his head. “Sir, nothing happened between us, but I can’t deny the attraction. I want no harm to come to her. I’ll do what you think is right.”
If her father was still determined to give her away, then it would be to Bex and only Bex.
“No, Bex. Don’t step aside.” She took Arthur’s hand in hers as she claimed his gaze. “I’m not ready to marry yet, but if I were, it would only be to you, Arthur Bex. That is my vow to you.”
Bex’s gaze softened. His hand tightened about hers.
The door swung opened and then slammed shut.
She turned, expecting her father to have left, but a new pair of eyes stared at her.
Her mother’s.
The stoic woman stood just inside with her back to the door. A scarlet cape shrouded her, and a thick, dark ebony bonnet covered her straight black locks. “Get your hands off of her. You can’t know her love. It’s not possible for the likes of you.”
Mama had an off look about her. Her fury seemed deeper than Ester had ever seen, as if she were unbalanced. “His hand. Get his hands off her.” She came over and beat on Bex, punching his hurt arm with her reticule. “Get ’em off her.”
Papa came to her side and pulled her back. “Horatio. Stop it. They say nothing happened.”
“He can’t touch her. Can’t put his hands on her. He can’t hurt her.”
Papa tightened his hold, almost yanking Mama off her feet. “Don’t go off, woman. This is Ester and that actor, Arthur Bex. Nothing from Jamaica, girl. No slave master going after his enslaved woman.”
But Mama wouldn’t stop. She kept swinging at the air. “Don’t touch her. You’ve no right. It’s started again. He’s got no right.”
Her father put both arms about her mother, lifting her in the air. “Horatio, come back. This isn’t the past. This man Bex ain’t from where you’re from. Ester says she loves this man and won’t marry Jordan. That’s why she ran away. Come back to yourself. Reason with her and him to keep this quiet, and for her to do her duty.”
Blinking, Mama’s stricken face cleared. “No, Josiah. Charles Jordan won’t have her now. He’ll be mean to her once he learns of the scandal. No, this one, the man from London, is the one she wants. This is the one she’ll have.”
Ester focused upon her mother’s blank face. If one could age a hundred years in a day, her beautiful mother looked as if she had. Her cheeks had sunken in, probably from grief and that heart of hers that Ester had broken again.
