For a second, Ester thought about going to her room—her canopied bed with the perfect pillows and satin ribbon trim—but she couldn’t hide from Bex. That’s what scared little girls did.
The clock tolled. It was after midnight. Fairy tales ended at midnight. She needed to see Bex and discover if the love she felt—that feeling that maybe he loved her, too—was still there.
…
A door shut. Arthur rolled over, smelling coconut. He just had to accept that he’d lost his mind for good this time.
“Bex?”
A match struck, chasing the sweetness away with rotten-egg sulfur.
Then the glow of a candle made his eyes blink, but he promptly sealed them. “Doctor, I’m no longer beside myself. There’s no need to be concerned.”
Soft footsteps continued, then stopped a few feet away. “Let your wife be the judge of that.”
Eyes opening fully, he sat up. “I thought that Clancy had returned to scrub on me some more, or the doctor, to see if I had my wits.” He smiled at this angel in yellow leaning against the bedpost. Her locks were free, moist, taking the shine of the candles—something to be touched. “Ester, it’s late. You should rest after the night I’ve put you through.”
“It’s after midnight, Bex. The best things happen then.”
“At least five after. I remember.” With his thoughts running wild, he coughed and lay back down, turning his head into the pillow. “How’s your father?”
“He’s in pain. Mama says the doctor has him on laudanum.”
“I’m sorry, Ester. Mr. Croome is a strong man. I’m sure he’ll recover.”
She came closer and put her hand to his cheek. “Will we recover?”
He wove his fingers between hers. “I’d like to think so. You look wonderful, like an angel.”
Her laugh was easy, unhurried, and it lingered in his ear. “Well, I had another hot bath.”
“I’m so sorry that I took something that makes you so happy and used it to deceive you.”
“I know, Bex.”
“Baths make you happy and forgiving. I’ll buy you one for your own use. I’ll even fetch the bath water.”
“Will that put Jonesy out of a job, Mr. Bex?”
Now was Arthur’s turn to laugh, but the rumble hurt his chest. “No. Someone that loyal will always be with me.”
His eyes were heavy, and it still hurt to breathe. He lifted a hand to scratch his chin and slapped himself with the bandage on his palm. Peeking at her, he saw her face blank, lines growing on her creamy forehead. “It’s not as bad as it seems. Barely hurts.”
Ester picked up his palm and cradled it to her bosom, his finger tangled in her flowing robe. Soft and smooth, the material swirled about her, like a river around her mountains of curves.
“If you’re going to tell me not to fret, that won’t work. I’m beyond fretting, Bex. I’m frightened. You could’ve been killed twice tonight.”
“I have but one life to give.”
“No lines. No Shakespeare.”
“That’s Nathan Hale, Ester.”
“You know what I mean, Bex.”
“No, Ester. No, I don’t know what you mean. I want you to call me Arthur to reflect a newfound closeness in our relationship. You still say Bex.”
“It’s the name I’ve loved since I first saw you on stage.” Sinking onto the bed, she sat beside him. “It’s just so natural to say.”
