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“So, is he the one?”
Hester turned to find Archie sitting in the boot room, both his boots on the floor and a clean pair of shoes on; he had evidently been waiting for her.
“I do not know yet,” she said slowly as she sat down. “But I like him.”
She started pulling off her muddy boots, thankful that Algernon Gaywood and his mother had stayed outside with the Drummonds to learn how the hunt had fared.
“You are such a horrible liar,” Archie said with a half-smile on his face.
“I’m not lying. I do like him,” Hester told him, her annoyance with him growing due to her boot being stuck.
“I know, but you know that he is not the one,” Archie said.
“And how would you know?” Hester countered, focusing more on her boot than Archie. She did see him shrug though from the corner of her eye.
“At any rate, do someone like you even believe in ‘the one’? I certainly don’t. And I suspect that you are not as great a romantic as that.” She looked at him as she spoke this time.
Again, Archie only shrugged and gave her that half-smile. Hester was not certain, but she thought he might not seem as certain now. It was difficult to tell when she was not good at reading other people’s expressions.
“You do attend the theatre quite rigorously. I am certain that it can give a man all sorts of ideas regarding love and ‘the one’,” Hester teased him.
“Shut up, you nitwit,” he told her with a smile.
“Oh, nitwit, is that what they call it in your club?” Hester asked him and rose as she had donned her indoor shoes.
“You’re on a roll now,” Archie stated as he rose as well.
Hester simply grinned.
“I have my moments,” she told him as she preceded him out of the room.
She had been so preoccupied with their conversation that she almost stumbled into the two people who were standing in the hallway, although granted they were standing rather close to the door.
“Oh, I beg your pardon,” she still muttered as she passed the two men, trying to act as if she had not noticed exactly who it was.
“Nothing happened, my lady. And we were standing rather awkwardly close to the door. In fact, we should beg your pardon,” Mr. Gaywood told her good-naturedly.
Hester made a grimace that she hoped passed as a smile and hurried down the hallway, not caring if Archie followed her or not.
“I have asked the duke and he says that we are welcome to use his study for the negotiations,” Mr. Gaywood told Lord Lambourn who had remained silent during their exchange. In fact, Hester was fairly certain that he had not looked at her once, although it was difficult to tell because she had tried to avoid looking at him.
“Yes, well, I’m not certain now is the time,” she heard Lord Lambourn answer behind her, his voice growing slightly fainter the father down the hallway she went.
“Not certain?” Mr. Gaywood questioned.
“Well, I have only recently come out of mourning. Besides it feels improper to start negotiations at a house party...”
“Ah, but it will be quicker, don’t you reckon? My Cecilia and you are such a well-matched couple that the two of us will agree in no time, don’t you believe, sir?”
Hester quickly opened a door and shut it again, right in Archie’s face, to avoid hearing Lord Lambourn’s reply. Last night she had been able to forget for at least part of their tryst that Lord Lambourn belonged to someone else. But she could not – and should not – fool herself any longer.
The door to the room opened and Hester realized that she had been standing in complete darkness. Archie entered the room and then closed the door behind him.
“Why are we in the linen closet?” he asked, humor evident in his voice.
“I don’t know why you are,” Hester told him honestly, buying herself more time, although still unable to come up with an answer. “I’m...”
“Yes?” Archie prodded.
“I’m...”
“Improving your night vision perhaps? If you need to go on an excursion at night?” Hester felt as if her stomach had been filled with ice at the thought that Archie might know what had happened last night. He had the same slightly mocking tone as he usually would, and because of the darkness, Hester could not be certain whether he was simply teasing, or he actually knew something.
“It is always practical if I want to spot an owl from the window,” she told him.
“Indeed,” Archie drawled.
Hester stumbled into him as she pushed her way to the door. Archie grabbed her by the upper arms and held her in front of him.
“Hester,” Archie said in a gentle tone that she had rarely heard him use. “What is the matter?”
“I’m... nothing,” Hester lied. He was probably aware that she was lying, yet it was by far the only way she could see herself leaving the room without having to talk about it.
“It is not nothing. I can sense that you are distraught. If you will not confide in me, then I hope you will in Lady Addinggrove or Mother. But I hope you know that you can.”
He was still holding onto her, although not as firmly as when he first had gripped her. Hester bit her bottom lip as she tried to think of a way to escape the situation.
“Would you embrace me?” she then asked in a low voice. “Just for a little while...”
Archie gently placed his arms around her before she had finished speaking. His grip gradually tightened as if testing exactly how tight she wanted it. Hester leaned her head against his shoulder for a moment. With her eyes closed, hiding from the world in a linen closet with her brother’s arms around her, she could almost pretend that the world outside did not exist.
“Why do you sleep with women, Archie?” she mumbled against his shoulder, then immediately regretted it as Archie let her go with a surprised sound that sounded mostly like a laugh.
“Hester,” he blurted as if her name was a curse, and she was quite certain that he was running his hands through his hair despite not being able to see it.
“Mr. Eavesgrave seems to be doing this out of boredom because he is not the earl and has no idea what to do with his life without a title. But is that why you do it as well? Because you feel no purpose in life since Henry is the heir?” Bringing up Percy Eavesgrave seemed a rare stroke of genius. She had asked since she hoped to have a better understanding of why Lord Lambourn had met her in the library when he was almost engaged to another. But of course, she could not ask Archie without revealing what had happened between them.
“There are five years between Henry and I, not five minutes. I think it makes a vast difference in how Mr. Eavesgrave and I perceive being the second son. As for your concern that I am bored, then I can assure you, that I am not. I have plenty to occupy my time with, which includes but is not exclusive to female company if you must know.” Archie sounded as if he was amused and annoyed at the same time if it was even possible.
“But you are not much at Farleigh Cottage?” Hester asked.
“Why would I stay there? I go there for four or five days each month, go over the ledgers, visit the tenants who require my assistance, talk to my steward, and then I go back to the city. Farleigh Cottage is well-maintained, and the tenants are happy. I have even offered Father a chance to go over the accounts since he seems to believe that I am neglecting the place.”
Hester had never thought that Archie did not stay at his estate because he did not have anything to do there. She would herself have thrived in a place where she would only have to work four or five days to make a living.
“If it’s not boredom, then what is it?” she persisted.
“What is what?” Archie countered in a tired voice that led her to believe that he knew what she meant.
“Why sleep with women?”
Archie huffed a breath, a small laughter without any amusement.
“Because it feels amazing, Hester,” he stated, and the teasing tone was back in his voice. “And now I think we have talked enough about my private life for the next six months.”
He turned around and opened the door behind him. Even though the light in the hallway was dim, it still felt blinding. Luckily Lord Lambourn and his soon-to-be father-in-law were not in sight – at least not until Hester had emerged fully into the hallway and so a shadow turned the corner at the end of the hallway and the earl said:
“In fact, I am going to visit her now.”
Hester’s stomach felt iced over once again as she immediately understood who “she” was.
***
Cecilia was lying on a settee, her bandaged foot propped on a pillow. She quickly hid something between her side and the settee as Flint entered the room. A book it seemed. He realized that he had no idea what she preferred to read.
“Good day, my lord. How was the hunt?” she asked him politely, as he sat down across from her.
“Fine, thank you. I shot several birds. You should expect pheasant for dinner,” he tried to joke, although he felt that it came out rather flat. Cecilia acknowledged his effort with a small smile. “How is your foot?” he asked instead and gestured towards said body part.
“Improving,” she mumbled and lifted it a little from the pillow. “I expect that I might be able to attend dinner tonight if I have someone help me move about.”
Flint was not certain whether she wanted him to help her or not. He was of average height and build and although she was almost a head shorter than him, he still felt uncertain whether he could carry her around for an entire night. Let alone whether it would be appropriate that he did so.
“That sounds marvelous,” he told her instead, although his words lacked conviction.
“Yes, it does, does it not? I feel I have missed so much of the house party already, and there is less than a week left. I had hoped to explore the estate more thoroughly, but it seems that I will not have the opportunity,” she told him, and Flint wondered what she expected him to reply. He could not tell her that they might come back some day, since he would do everything in his power to avoid that ever happening.
“Yes, it is unfortunate,” he finally settled on.
For a moment they were looking in different directions, neither of them speaking. Flint’s mind worked frantically, trying to come up with a topic.
“What are you reading?” he finally asked, then remembered how she had hidden the book as if she did not wish for him to see it.
Cecilia blushed a little, which only made her look prettier than she already was. Objectively she was much more beautiful than Lady Hester, yet her countenance or demeanor had never stirred the type of emotion in Flint that Lady Hester had. But the stirring of emotions was not a requisite for a future countess. Stability and dependability were. The fact that he would not be devastated if she died before him was paramount. Flint had no wish to end up like his father.
“It’s just a silly book,” she told him and held up the cover for him to see it.
It was bound in dark red leather. Sons of the Viscount, and Daughters of the Earl by Selina Davenport. He remembered that Sophia had read it and quite liked it.
“I wished that you would not do so,” he told her.
“What?” she demanded and blushed even further.
“Diminish your choice in literature.”
“Oh, well, I suppose I just thought that men usually do not think much of romances. They find them to be too unrealistic,” Cecilia explained and turned the book in her lap with the title downwards as if to prevent him from reading it again.
“It’s fiction. It makes no sense to discuss whether it is too unrealistic or not. By design it does not have to be realistic since someone made it up,” he told her and crossed his arms over his chest.
Cecilia’s grey eyes went wide, and her mouth opened slightly. Flint briefly wondered whether other men thought about kissing her mouth if they saw it like that. Then realized that he did not care whether they did or not.
“I had no idea you had this many thoughts on books, let alone romances,” she told him. “I just like to be certain that after all the main characters have to go through they will live happily ever after.”
Flint had to fight not to humph or grunt or make another sound that would completely ruin her image of him as someone who appreciated the same books as her. Frankly, he had never read a romance in his life, excluding the plays by Shakespeare that he had been forced to read at Eton. He had amused himself and the other boys by drawing the female characters naked.
He belatedly realized that Cecilia was waiting for a response from him.
“Well, I have not given much thought to romances in particular, but if you enjoy them, you should certainly be allowed to do so. And not hide them when people enter the room.”
She gave him a grateful smile and once again Flint thought that he really should appreciate her more than he did.