Page 74 of Duke of Emeralds
She entered, folding her arms for warmth. “You could not sleep either?”
He shook his head. “I’m better with work than with waiting. And I know what you’ll say—I should have left it till morning, but the hand wishes what the hand wishes.”
Hester smiled and perched on the edge of a nearby armchair. “What are you working on?”
Thomas turned the page so she could see the quick outline of a child that was unmistakably Bella with her hands raised to the sky as if conjuring a flock of birds overhead.
Drawing closer, she ran her finger along the edge of the sketch. “This is very good.”
Thomas shrugged. “I was bored often as a lad and drew on the walls of barns.”
She seemed to consider the drawing. “Bella will like this. She will see herself, I mean. Not all children can recognize their own faces in a picture.”
He took her in, measuring her exhaustion, and poured a splash of whisky into a small glass.
Hester accepted the drink. “Thank you.”
They sat in silence, the sort that only happened late at night when neither party could bear pretense. Thomas knew there was something on her mind, and he waited for her to speak.
“My mother,” she began after a while, “has been like that for years now. Sometimes she wakes in the morning and expects my father to appear at breakfast. Other days, she barely recognizes Leonard or me. There are stretches where she is entirely herself, and then the rest…” She gestured at nothing.
Thomas listened without comment.
“I thought it would get better with time,” Hester went on. “But it doesn’t. It’s like the house—some rooms are bright and busy, but the rest are locked away and left to the dust.”
Thomas refilled her glass. “Ye were close to him? Yer father.”
“Very,” she said. “He was the only one who understood me. Leonard belonged to the world, always, but I was his creature. Even after he died, I would catch myself—” She stopped as if fighting off the memory. “I never expected to have a husband.”
Thomas grinned. “Well, thank ye for lowering your standards.”
She almost laughed. “I do not mean it like that. I only—when the doctors said there was nothing more to be done for her, I thought I should take care of Leonard and her, and… and then you appeared. Or rather, the offer did.”
He looked at her carefully. “You agreed to marry me to make your mother happy.”
She nodded. “It seemed the only thing I could do. She was obsessed with the notion of her daughter married. It kept her anchored. And you were more pleasant than I thought you would be.”
He gave a low laugh. “That’s the best compliment I’ve ever received from ye, Hester.”
She smiled then sobered. “I almost chose someone else first.”
He straightened, a new alertness in both his mind and his posture. “Who?”
“The Marquess of Townstead,” she said, her cheeks coloring very slightly. “I was foolish enough to think he would pay me any attention, but he would not even dance with me.”
Thomas felt his jaw clench. “Was he the same one who made you cry the first night we met?” he asked.
She looked up, and her eyes widened a fraction. “I… yes, that was him.”
Thomas shook his head, as if dismissing the Marquess altogether. “He’s a fool. Though I suppose I ought to thank him. Had he not been so blind, I’d never have the pleasure.”
She stared at her hands while he straightened. “Ye should try to sleep,” he whispered.
Hester nodded but made no move toward the door. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, the air between them growing dense with a question neither wanted to ask.
Then, with a gentleness that surprised her, Thomas put an arm around her shoulders and drew her in, holding her close. For a while, she leaned against him, and he could feel the thump of her heart.
“You are very warm,” she murmured, and Thomas tightened his hold.
