Page 43 of Duke of Emeralds
“And what isthatsupposed to mean?” Craton asked, his brows lifting in mock offence.
“I believe he means to imply thatwehave no such thing,” Colin offered, slicing into a cut of lamb with all the seriousness of a judge handing down a sentence.
Laughter passed around the table like a shared toast.
“Careful there, Lushton,” Anna said, setting down her glass. “Your wifeisEnglish.”
“Indeed,” added Colin. “One poorly chosen word and you’ll find yourself exiled to the library.”
Thomas turned toward her now, one brow raised ever so slightly. “Ach, I know well enough how to get into trouble with my wife,” he said. “And out of it too, if it comes to that.”
His gaze met hers—and lingered. There was something in his expression, something unmistakably wicked beneath the civility. Hester’s cheeks warmed before she could stop them.
“Oh, I daresay he enjoys getting into trouble,” Craton said, exchanging a pointed look with Colin.
More laughter. The table seemed to echo with it, the room warm and close from candlelight and company. Thomas only offered another indulgent shake of his head.
“Honestly,” Nancy sighed, dramatic as ever, “everyone around me is pairing off. I shall have no one left to cause scandal with at this rate.”
“Are you collecting us like a line of porcelain dolls, Nancy?” Fiona asked from the far end where she had shown far more interest in the roast duck than the conversation.
“My, isn’tthatan idea,” Nancy mused aloud, her grin too bright to be harmless.
“Sounds ominous,” Hester murmured, her own laughter rising again.
Dinner passed in a whirl of wine, wit, and teasing remarks. And later, as they retired to the drawing room, Fiona took to the pianoforte with ease. The music drifted through the air—light and clever, like the mood that hung between them all. Glasses clinked, cushions shifted, and conversation resumed with the sort of comfort only old friends shared.
Hester found herself drawn aside by Anna, who offered her a glass of ratafia and a look far too perceptive.
“Are you quite well, Hester?”
“Never better,” Hester replied, careful to keep her voice level.
Anna said nothing for a moment. Just watched her. Hester busied herself with smoothing the silk skirt at her lap.
But the truth was another matter.
Shewantedto feel in control. She had told herself as much, again and again. Her days were ordered. Her speech measured. Her heart protected.
And yet… her gaze drifted toward the hearth where Thomas stood with Colin and Craton, his glass in hand, his laughter warm and full. He looked utterly at ease, as though this world had always belonged to him. And she?—
She wanted to be the reason he laughed that way.
The thought landed like a stone in her chest. Where had it come from? Why did it feel so perilous?
She recalled the way he had looked at her last night at the ball. Calling Paisley a King’s fool. Narrowing his eyes when Alderton requested a dance. He had said little. But he hadn’t needed to.
Heaven help her, she hadlikedit. She turned away quickly, her heart pounding.
“Do not try to force change, Hester.”
Hester blinked, pulled from her thoughts so abruptly it took her a moment to focus. “What?” she asked, brow furrowing as she turned her full attention to Anna.
Her friend stood near the open drawing room window where a faint breeze stirred her skirts.
Anna touched a hand lightly to her own chest. “In here,” she said. “Whatever you feel, leave it be. Embrace it for what it is. It does not respond well to being tampered with.”
Hester studied her carefully. The candor in Anna’s eyes, the sudden depth to her tone—it was unlike her. Or perhaps Hester had simply never looked closely enough. Anna had always been the thoughtful one. The intuitive one. And now, she was speaking truths Hester had not voiced even to herself.
