She ran to the window. “But you said you loved me. If that was true—”
“I do, but it’s not enough. I’m a man who needs you, who wants to love tenderly and completely, but I have to be a man who can still look in the mirror and respect what he sees. I can’t do that by giving up my calling or living half a life because of your fears. You have no faith, Ester. I believe in us, but you don’t.”
“I have faith, Bex—”
“No, you don’t, not in us or me. My bounty is as boundless as the sea, my love for you is deep. I give it to thee and only thee. But it’s not enough to pay your price. Good evening, Ester.”
“Bex, wait.”
He pulled his other leg through and started down the vines. “If you change your mind, come to me in Cheapside. We can begin again. We’ll find a way together to make our love last.”
Head against the window frame, she watched him and waited until she knew he’d climbed down without falling. Cheated and alone, she bristled and slammed the window shut.
But he was right.
She feared for his safety, like she feared for Papa’s. The trip to Gretna Green had shown her how fragile the life she lived truly was and how easily everything could be taken away. If Papa didn’t get better, things would change again. Ester had never felt more vulnerable in her life.
She had no faith.
No faith that she could take care of her mother. None that Bex would shy away from danger. None that he’d be happy with just Ester’s love. He was a man given to fight, to save someone.
It was wrong to ask him to give up everything, but that was what she needed to feel secure. How else would she?
Somehow, Bex still believed in her, their marriage, or he wouldn’t have climbed three stories or denied a passion that she’d regret in the morning.
With a sad sigh, she looked once more to see Bex, but the dark street had swallowed him whole. A glance at the night sky revealed a netting of stars, so many, like when she had eloped. Stars knew how to fly and keep soaring. They had faith.
And Ester was jealous of them for being so easy and light and secure where they lived.
She touched her lips and sank to the floor. Bex’s kiss, his respect of her person, had poisoned Ester.
It had.
She was Juliet to him, dying inside, without the hope of holding on to his love, and almost too weak to survive without it. But Ester was her father’s daughter, stubborn. She was also her mother’s child, so survival was in her blood. She’d find in herself an antidote for wanting Bex. She would, for there had to be a cure.
…
Arthur heard the knocking on the door of his flat. In his heart, he hoped it was Ester, that she’d come to forgive him, but two days had passed since he’d climbed in her window. She wasn’t coming. His notes weren’t being delivered to her. Another desperate visit would come to nothing but frustration.
The knocking persisted.
He leaped up from his desk and opened the door.
Phineas was there, top hat in hand, rolling it between his meaty palms. “Bex.”
“Yes, Phineas, was there more you needed? My guts have been spilled all over your parchment.”
“I researched what you said to me about theZhonda. Are you sure you want the whole story out?”
Shrugging, Arthur let the man inside. “It’s the story you wanted, and it keeps my end of our bargain to keep the Croomes out of the paper.”
“I know, Bex, but I owe you my life. I don’t want to make things worse.”
“Some already call me the son of a slaver. How much worse can things get? I suppose it’s better than ‘Gunpowder’.”
“The story of your testimony at your uncle’s trial could change things or make things worse. I don’t know how this will play out in London—brave hero or traitor to his flesh and blood.”
Arthur folded his arms and leaned against the wall. “I’ve lost everything, Phineas. But you’ve held up your promise. I suppose I’m grateful.”
