Page 87 of Duke of Emeralds
She did not sleep that night. Nor the next.
Where would he go? The question gnawed at her, more than she cared to admit. There were clubs in St. James’s that catered to every vice; there were women who knew the art of comforting men newly rid of their inconvenient wives. The notion that he might go to one of them—worse, that he might find solace there—burned so hot she wanted to rip the sheets from the bed.
She spent the first day in a haze, wandering the hallways, inventing errands for herself and discarding them moments later. Even Arabella, who trailed her through the house like a small, confused wraith, could not tempt her into conversation.
The second day, the mail arrived. Hester looked through the missives, hoping to find one bearing the Lushton crest or at least Thomas’ strong penmanship, but there was nothing of significance.
On the third day, a knock came at the front door, louder and more impatient than any servant would dare. Hester heard it from the top of the stairs and froze, her hand on the banister.
Moments later, Anna’s voice floated into the house. “If she has died of heartbreak, at least put her in a room with proper ventilation!”
Hester rolled her eyes, but she could not keep the smile from her lips. She made her way to the drawing room where Anna was already shedding her shawl. “You are a hurricane,” Hester said.
Anna advanced and swept Hester into a fierce embrace, one arm around her neck, the other patting her back as if to burp a recalcitrant infant. “You did not reply, so I came to conduct a rescue.”
“I do not require rescuing.”
“You do,” Anna said. She held Hester at arm’s length and surveyed her, frowning. “You look as if you haven’t eaten in a week. And I sent you four notes; did you read any of them?”
“I did not get the chance,” Hester lied, untangling herself. “And I have not had an appetite.”
“Appetite is for the living, and I intend to restore it.” Anna rang for tea then made herself comfortable on the settee, as if she owned the place. “Now. Tell me what has happened.”
Hester sat, smoothing her skirt until her hands stopped shaking. “It is nothing. Thomas and I have decided to live apart. It was always the plan. There is no reason for fuss.”
Anna scoffed then crossed her arms. “Your plan was to be miserable?”
“It is not misery. It is practicality.”
Anna studied her. “You loved him, then.”
Hester flinched. “That is absurd. Love had nothing to do with this.”
“I see. And that is why you look as if you have swallowed poison.” Anna leaned in, and her voice softened. “Hester. I know you. You do not break so easily unless something has gone very wrong. Was it—did he hurt you?”
Hester’s throat closed, and for a moment she could not answer. “No,” she managed at last. “He did exactly as I asked. That is the problem.”
Anna was silent for a long moment. “I do not think you know what you want.”
Hester almost laughed. “Does any woman?”
“Some do,” Anna said, “though most are toowiseto admit it.” She reached for Hester’s hand and squeezed it tight. “You should speak to him.”
“He is gone,” Hester replied, trying and failing to keep the bitterness out of her voice.
“Gone where?”
“I do not know.”
The tea arrived, and for a few minutes, they drank in silence. Anna’s presence was a balm, but Hester’s heart was still shattering.
At length, Anna set her cup down. “You are allowed to want things, Hester. You are allowed to change your mind, even.”
“That is not how the world works.”
Anna shrugged. “Then make a new world.”
Hester shook her head, the anger and longing warring in her chest. “It is too late. I have already lost him.”
