Page 50 of Rescuing Lord Inglewood

“Good. Would you care to enjoy the fire in the upstairs parlor with me?” He stood and held out his hand, waiting for her to take it, watching her every movement intently.

“Of course. Thank you.” She placed her hand in his and allowed him to sweep her out of the room and down the darkened halls. Her gloved hand did not tremble in his, but nor did it fit comfortably with how stiffly she held herself.

Had kissing her been a serious misstep?

They entered the formal parlor, a room that perhaps represented neutral territory, as neither of them seemed to spend much time inside of it. He could see no sign of Esther’s hand in this room. It looked much as it had for years.

It had been one of his grandmother’s favorite places to hold court.

“We ought to redecorate,” he said, looking around with a frown.

Esther’s hand slipped from his as she walked to the fireplace. He had asked for it to be lit just before dinner, along with a few candles. The dim lighting painted her in a warm glow, casting shadows behind her in a way that emphasized her fine figure.

“If you wish,” she said, going to the mantel to trail her finger along its edge, facing away from him. “I have not made many changes to the furnishing. I do not know your tastes very well.”

He hadn’t brought her into the room to discuss the decor. “Esther, will you sit with me?” he asked, gesturing to the couch.

She looked at the seat made for two and then back at him, the whites of her eyes showing again.

“Just to talk,” he said hastily, the tips of his ears going warm. She must think he wanted to reenact their interlude in the library. “Please.”

Esther nodded and went to her seat, avoiding looking directly at him by smoothing out her skirts. “What do you wish to talk about?” she asked, her voice soft. He remained standing in an attempt to put her at ease.

“I wanted you to know—I have no intention of rushing things between us more than we already have.” She lifted her head, staring at him incredulously. “What I mean to say,” he hastened to add, “is that I wish to court you properly. You were robbed of that experience due to the nature of our engagement. I mean to make it up to you now. And as we are not expected to resume our public duties for a time, I think it would be the perfect use of our time alone together here at the Keep.”

What was wrong with him? He could give a speech for a quarter of an hour in Lords but felt like a schoolboy attempting a poorly rehearsed recitation speaking to his own wife.

“Court me?” she asked. “That is rather backward, is it not?” A little of her usual humor tinted her words.

No one could accuse Silas of speaking delicately about anything. He often said exactly what he meant, with complete honesty. Yet this situation demanded something different from him. “Nothing about our marriage is adhering to the rules of society, it would seem.” He sighed and ran his hand through his hair, watching her all the while. “But I want to give you this experience, Esther, as much as I want to take it for myself. I have never courted a woman. There was never time, and I never met the right person.”

Those dark eyes studied him most seriously. “And now you have a woman who flings herself in the way of falling statues to appease.” Her ready wit was returning at last.

“Precisely. And you have an earl who is rather used to getting his way asking this odd thing from you.” He took a step closer, watching her for any sign of discomfort. “We can start tomorrow. Will you join me for a ride? We will remain on our property. There will be nothing improper about it.”

They could hardly go for pleasure rides about the country so soon after entering mourning.

The same thought seemed to occur to her, too. Her expression immediately sobered. “Do you think it wrong? Given that Isaac—”

He took the last step and carefully sat on the cushion next to her. “Esther, you knew your brother well. How would he wish you to mark his passing? By sitting in gloom? I hardly think so, given what I understood of his nature.”

Her smile was less sad and more wistful. “He would want us to remember him, certainly, but I can only imagine how amused he would be to see the two of us trying to get on. And he did so love amusement.”

Silas gathered her hands in his and gave them a gentle squeeze. “My thoughts precisely. I will see you after breakfast tomorrow, at the stables.”

This close to her, even in the dim light, he saw her cheeks darken and she stiffened. “We will not see each other until then?” she asked, almost tentatively.

It was as he suspected; Esther had interpreted their kisses to be the first step to his claim upon her as a husband. He had no intention of rushing her on that account. Her kiss had given him enough hope that when the time came for such things, they would do well enough. For now, he would treat Isaac’s sister with all the respect and admiration of a courting gentleman. She deserved nothing less.

“Not a minute sooner.” He lifted one of her gloved hands to his lips, laying a kiss across the back of her hand he hoped she felt through her glove. “Though I will anticipate our ride every moment we are apart.”

A soft giggle met his words, and she raised her free hand to cover her mouth. For an instant she looked quite horrified that such a sound had come from her, but when he grinned back she matched his expression.

They made a most absurd pair.

∞∞∞

The horseback ride merely began a week full of courtship rituals. Esther had never been the object of such focused attention, and while it started out as amusing, she quickly saw the appeal to such traditions. On their first outing, Silas showed her their land and explained the workings of the farms and orchards in such detail that she could not help feeling honored to be included.