Chapter 12
Lady Jane Grey may not have been an inspired choice. Esther’s notion to dress entirely in gray from slippers to headdress had proven to be depressing. The dress, though lovely, faded into the background next to the colorful gowns of the others. She had briefly considered snatching the gray kitten from Aunt Dinah had named Muff and tucking him in her sleeve but took pity on him in the end. The kitten might have helped.
Sophia looked glorious if somewhat stiff in her Elizabethan costume. Esther could tell her friend was distracted, however. She seemed to be scanning the room nervously, exactly as Esther herself was doing.
Cedrica Grenford stunned in a shepherdess costume. Esther should never have listened to her business about English history as an improving activity.
Weasel limped around, saying, “Richard the third, don’t you know,” to anyone who would listen. His hump teetered back and forth as he walked.
There were knights in unimpressive armor, a friar, and some milkmaids who looked less than respectable. She saw the duchess escort one from the room.
Two gentlemen in formal dress leaned gracefully against an ornate mantelpiece at one end of the ballroom. Each wore a simple mask, one black and one white; neither wore a costume. Could one be Adam? Esther inched her way in that direction. She had not gone very far, however, when she realized her mistake. There could be no denying Aldridge’s confident posture and arrogant tilt of head. Is the one next to him Gren? The incorrigible flirt confirmed it with a wink and a cocky salute. At least he noticed her.
A young lady rather scantily clad as a Greek goddess, Lady Miranda, she suspected, swooped in front of the brothers and drew their complete attention. Even at a distance, she could see them both shift into the role of charming rake, no costume needed. She pressed her lips together to suppress her amusement at their transparency. Adam would never do that. The thought came unbidden. She wasn’t sure it was welcome. Where is the wretch anyway?
She continued her circuit of the room and found a few other gentlemen who opted for the simple mask. None were Adam. It would be just like him to turn up his nose at a costume ball and not even bother to wear a mask.
A disturbance across the room caught her attention. Ladies fluttered around someone, obviously taken with a man’s costume. Curiosity kept her watching until the group shifted, parting so Esther had a good look. The man wore a costume of some sort of eastern potentate.
“What’s this then?” the Weasel asked loudly. “Some Egyptian pharaoh?”
Esther couldn’t hear the man’s reply, but he turned his gaze in her direction, and she forgot to breathe.
“Persian king? You ain’t my half-breed cousin. Who are you?” the Weasel demanded.
She heard the reply this time.
“Ahasuerus,” the man said, looking directly at her.
Ahasuerus. The Persian king who chose a Jewish bride and loved her enough to help her people. A Jewish bride. Esther.
Lights danced in front of her eyes, and for a moment, Esther thought she might faint. She gripped a waist-high urn full of ferns as the man walked toward her and made a deep bow. Whispers flowed in waves around the room, and though she didn’t listen with her ears, Esther’s heart knew they concerned her and the story of the king.
“Will you walk with me, my lady?” the man asked in a familiar voice.
Adam’s voice. He had come.
When she put her hand in his, he held it high in a courtly manner and began to promenade around the room, nodding as a gracious king might do to the curious and amused onlookers. He promenaded past the grinning Grenford brothers, Hythe in his Tudor tights, and the duchess dressed as Catherine the Great. He promenaded past the entire company and walked her out the door, down the hall, and into a small withdrawing room. Esther moved along beside him, stunned into inaction.
Before she could register that he had closed them in alone, he tore the false beard from his face—wincing a bit when the adhesive stuck to his skin—tossed it aside, and took her in his arms with a predatory gleam in his eyes. She couldn’t move while his mouth descended toward hers. She wondered distantly if she ought to refuse his kiss, but no power on earth could make her do so. The moment she had dreamed about, longed for, and denied since the moment he came to work for her father three years before had arrived.
She leaned into it, and curiosity gave way to wonder. His mouth felt warm and firm against hers. He began to move, and warmth filled her too, fire bursting forth deep inside her. Then his tongue touched her lips, and her knees gave so that he had to pull her against his body until they touched, shoulder to knees, and she thought she might melt. What could she do? She responded in kind, tongue to tongue, and gripped him in return.
They both were panting when he pulled his mouth away and cradled her head against his shoulder. “Will you listen to me now, Esther?”
Adam tried to gather his scattered thoughts from the fog of lust. Her response had been much more than he dared hope. He set her firmly on her feet and slid his hands down her arms, putting a few inches between them.
“We need to talk.” But how to start? Her deep brown eyes boring into his didn’t help. He kissed her again.
When she groaned against his mouth, he put her away from him and walked toward a shuttered window on the other side of the room. “When you look at me that way, I can’t think,” he said.
“You think too much,” Esther replied with a sly smile, stepping toward him.
He let his head drop back. “I need to tell you I was wrong. It isn’t easy for me.”
She stopped and rocked back on her heels, eyes wide.
He let it all out in a rush: Rochlin’s friendship, Sarah’s Hebrew, and Rebbe Nahmany’s advice. “‘Keep an open heart,’ he said. I didn’t understand what he meant at first, but he was right. You were right. I need to trust, to give people and ideas a chance.”
“Ideas?” she murmured. She looked baffled by his jumbled words.
“We can value our traditions without becoming so hide-bound we can’t allow change. We can hold onto our own customs and still value our friends.”
She scrunched up her face in an adorable expression as though she was hard at work sorting his words. “What was it you said about Sarah Nahmany?” she asked.
“She reads Hebrew. Her father has begun to teach her, alongside her brothers and—”
Esther’s expression stopped him. She almost glowed in wonder. “Would you teach me, Adam?” she whispered.
“Yes. And our daughters, too.” She was in his arms before he could add, “If we have any.” Before he could ask her to marry him; before he could warn her about her father’s plans. The intensity of her response almost shredded his last self-control. It might have, if the sound of scuffling and laughter outside the door hadn’t startled both of them.
They leaped apart, Esther with one hand to her lips, Adam still holding the other. The intruders moved on.
“We have to go back. They’ll all wonder—I’ll be a disgrace,” Esther exclaimed, sinking to her knees and looking for the remnants of his costume beard. She rose with most of it in a triumphant gesture.
His opportunity had passed. He helped her restore her hair where it had come loose from her headdress and cupped the side of her face. “You go, Esther. I’ll stay here for a while, so we don’t go back together, but we must talk. Will you come for a walk with me in the morning?”
She punctuated her agreement with a swift kiss on his lips and left in a flurry of skirts. He crushed the false beard in his hand. The costume had done its work. He had no desire to wear it again and less to face the revelers or watch Esther dancing and flirting.
He would see her in the morning.