Page 73 of Duke of Emeralds
“I think,” Leonard said, rising, “that we should give you a moment, Mother.”
Patience’s composure buckled in an instant. Her hands flew to her face, and she began to sob, the sound strangled and hiccupping.
Hester shot to her feet, meaning to rush to her, but Leonard was already there. He kneeled beside their mother, wrapped his arms around her trembling frame, and murmured, “It’s all right, Mama. I know. I know.”
Thomas was sitting perfectly still when Hester dared to look at him. He neither looked surprised nor horrified.
“You are so like your father, Leonard.” Patience, lost in her storm, wailed. “You are so willful, so difficult. Go to the nursery at once. I cannot bear to see you until your father is home. Go!”
Leonard closed his eyes, nodded once, and rose. “I’ll see you soon, Mama,” he said, his voice breaking on the last word. He slipped out of the room, not meeting Hester’s gaze.
Hester stood, moved toward her mother, and wrapped her arms around her. Patience calmed as abruptly as she’d fallen apart. She wiped her face, summoned a smile that looked as if it had been sewn on with thread, and patted her cheeks. “Forgive me, darling. I am always so silly these days.”
“You are never silly,” Hester said, and meant it. “You are the strongest woman I know.”
Patience looked at Thomas as hopeful as a child would. “I am so glad you have her. She was always so lonely before, weren’t you, Hester? Always reading, always sewing. I feared for her.”
Hester’s own voice seemed to come from another room. “Let us get you upstairs, Mama.”
Thomas rose, moving to her side in two silent strides. Patience’s smile collapsed and reformed before falling again. Hester helped her to her feet and guided her up to her chambers with Thomas following slowly behind.
When she was settled into her bed, she waved a hand at Thomas and Hester. “Go, go. Enjoy yourselves. I need to rest.”
Hester did not resist. She let Thomas guide her from the room, down the hall, and into the front foyer where Leonard leaned against the wall with his head bowed as if composing himself.
“Leo,” Hester whispered.
He straightened and tried to smile, but it faltered. “I’m all right. Is she?—?”
“She will be,” Hester said and wanted to believe it. She touched her brother’s arm then let her hand fall to her side. “I’m sorry. I should have?—”
He shook his head. “No one could have done better. It’s just the way of things now.” He ran a hand over his face then mustered a better smile. “You handled that well, Lushton. I think you might actually be the favorite child if you keep it up.”
Thomas allowed a small smile. “I find myself in excellent company.”
Leonard laughed, a short, grateful sound. He kissed Hester’s forehead, nodded to Thomas, and disappeared up the stairs.
The carriage was already waiting outside. Thomas helped Hester in, settled beside her, and gave the driver the signal to start.
For several streets, neither spoke. Hester pressed her face to the window, watching the city slide past in watery bands. She could see, in the reflection, Thomas watching her. She tried to offer him a smile, but her lips did not move.
At last, Thomas cleared his throat. “Ye did well, Hester.”
She shook her head, the words caught in her chest. “It’s not enough. I do not know how to help her.”
“She has ye and Leonard and now me,” Thomas said. “We’ll take care of her.”
“I know,” Hester said though she didn’t. Not really.
They fell silent again. Now and then, a memory of her father’s laugh, her mother’s voice, Leonard as a child—these would drift through her mind as insistent and formless as a mist.
When they reached Lushton House, Thomas helped her down and led her inside, up the stairs, and he waited until she was safely in her room before leaving her to the night.
She shut the door behind her, braced her back to the panel, and pressed her palms to her eyes. She did not weep. She would not. Tonight had reminded her of why she should never love a man.
“You will ruin your eyes if you squint with that much effort.”
Thomas looked up to find Hester in the library doorway, her hair a halo of brown curls around her shoulders and cascading down her back. He set the charcoal aside and rose. “If I were to choose between blindness and boredom, I’d take the blindness,” he said. “Come in, Hester.”
