Authors: Anne Ireland
“How could I have forgotten you, sweet Hester?” Richard murmured. “You were such a pretty little thing and innocent—so innocent. You have changed, for the better I may say.”
“I have nothing to say to you, sir. Allow me to walk on, if you please.”
“Oh, but I have a great deal to say. If you will not hear it, perhaps others may.” Hester’s stomach was churning. He was threatening to expose her shame, which would instantly ruin her in society, but she knew he was not to be trusted. It would be foolish to allow him to blackmail her. She must face him down and damn the consequences.
“What you choose to say in public is your affair, sir.” Hester raised her head proudly. “I shall not listen to you.”
She crossed the road to avoid him, leaving him staring after her in frustration so that he called out, “You may regret this, Hester!”
Hester did not give him the satisfaction of seeing her turn her head. She walked on, outwardly calm, though inwardly her stomach was churning with apprehension. Richard Mortimer could destroy her. A few words from him would mean that she could never again show her face in society, which meant that she would never have another chance of happiness. Even Charlotte would not be able to support her if she were exposed to public scorn.
She could only hope that she would have left Bath before Richard began to speak of their affair. For she knew that the ladies who had welcomed her to their homes with a smile of approval would turn their heads in disgust whenever they saw her. She would be beyond the pale, her reputation stained beyond repair.
Fortunately, they had no engagements that evening, as they were to set out early the next day. Hester could only be glad of it. She hoped that no hint of scandal would reach Lady Holbeach before they left Bath.
Perhaps she would be granted another two weeks of pleasure for she knew that after her shame was known there would be no alternative for her but to retire to obscurity in the country with her mother.
* * * *
Richard had no intention of making good his threat, but she had piqued him, bringing his baser instincts to the fore. Nothing amused him more than the chase, and his hunting instincts had been aroused. He knew that she was being called the Citadel, and the Ice Maiden, and it pleased him to know that he knew better. She had been both warm and passionate in his arms, and, as he looked at her, he found himself remembering how much he had liked and admired her.
Watching her walk away, back straight, head held proudly, Richard Mortimer’s mood changed, becoming reluctant admiration. There was something rather fine about Hester, and he knew a sharp regret for his past misdeeds. He had begun his pursuit of an innocent young girl out of boredom, having been forced to rusticate through lack of funds. The day he had let his gentle seduction of Hester become something he had never ceased to regret, he had been in a mood of near despair. His father had told him that he was being sent abroad, that he would become a remittance man, condemned to exile until he was recalled. For a young man addicted to the pleasures of London, that had been tantamount to a death sentence. And when he forcefully seduced Hester, he had been mad or drunk, perhaps both.
Now his father and elder brother were both dead, and he was his grandfather’s heir. When the old man died, and that could not be long, for he was suffering in his last days, Richard would inherit everything. Unfortunately, there were more debts than assets, and he might have no alternative than to sell the estate. It was imperative that he marry an heiress. The trouble was that most of them were very young girls and had been warned about him by their watchful mamas. His reputation as a rake and a seducer had clung to him, and he was thought of as dangerous to young ladies, which might be true in certain circumstances.
He had hoped to find one young and foolish enough to be swayed by his charm, a girl who would ignore his past, which he had the grace to admit would not bear a close examination. He had not lived an exemplary life, but his early excesses had been no worse than most other young men—apart from what he had done to Hester. However, he was painted a black sheep, and it was hard to overcome a reputation of that kind. He had fared no better in London than Bath, and it was looking increasingly likely that he might have to abduct a young girl of good fortune if he were to succeed in his aim. It was a despicable action, of course, but a night spent in his company would have most young ladies and their mamas clamoring for marriage. Perhaps he might do better to look for the daughter of a wealthy Cit—someone prepared to buy a title?
Unfortunately, he found most very young girls incredibly boring. It was a pity that Hester Weston had no fortune to recommend her. She at least would have been worth the chase, and it would put right the wrong he had done her. At least, it might ease his conscience.
Richard proceeded to the Baths, where he met some men that he knew and was informed by one young spark that Captain Crawford had been looking for him.
“I wouldn’t be in your shoes if he finds you, Mortimer,” Mr. Bradshaw said. “He looked fit to murder when I saw him.”
“I do not fear Crawford,” Richard said making a mental note to avoid him. He knew that Crawford blamed him for that business with the faulty cannon. He had been merely the go-between, but he was damned if he was going to plead his case. He wasn’t afraid to meet Crawford in a duel if it came to it, but would rather not while his grandfather was still living. Indeed, he had given his word to be on his best behavior—whatever that might be.
“Well, he is leaving Bath tomorrow. His cousin is to be engaged on her birthday they say and they give her a dance for her at Holbeach Towers. I believe Miss Weston goes with them.” Bradshaw sighed deeply. “They say Countess Danbury will settle fifty thousand on her when she marries. I would try my hand there, but she refused Blackwater out of hand. He took himself off to London in a blue fit. The poor fellow was head over heels in love with her they say.”
Richard’s eyes gleamed. “Where did you hear that tale? Fifty thousand is a huge sum of money.”
Bradshaw shrugged. “It might have been fifteen. Either way, I would settle if she would have me, but I can’t get near her—perfectly polite, smiles at me well and tight, don’t you know, but keeps a barrier in place. Some fellows call her the Citadel, but I like her too much to hear a word against her. Think I’m a bit in love with her myself.” He sighed again and looked sorrowful.
Richard nodded, knowing exactly what he meant. There was something about Hester these days, and he’d been fond of her in his way all those years ago. If she had fifteen thousand when she married, it would go a long way to solve his problems. Given the chance, he thought he could put the estate to rights. . . . He smiled and clapped the other man on the shoulders. There might just be a chance for him yet.
“I feel lucky,” he said. “Come, let us find some other fellows and chance our hand at the card tables .”
* * * *
Hester was happily unaware that Richard Mortimer was now considering her as a prospective bride. She would have liked to confide her fears about an imminent exposure to Charlotte. However, since she had never revealed the name of her seducer to anyone—despite the threats and beatings her father had given her at the start—she did not feel able to now. She must simply hope that Richard would not reveal her shame too soon for she would not wish the scandal to reflect on Geraldine and spoil her birthday celebrations.
She made up her mind that she would not allow her fears to overshadow her visit with the Holbeach family. She must make the most of the time left to her and that would not be hard in the company of such good friends. Captain Crawford was escorting them to the country, but he rode on horseback most of the time, leaving the carriage for the ladies.
However, he was on hand to secure rooms at the inn for them that night and seemed in sparkling form at supper, which they took in the private parlor together.
The two girls shared a room quite happily at night, but Geraldine took longer to get ready in the morning, and Hester went downstairs first. Finding that the other ladies had not yet come down, she wandered outside, walking through the gardens at the rear of the inn to the banks of a rather brown and sluggish river. She was engrossed in watching a family of swans gliding by when someone called her name. As she turned, Paul came up to her.
“You are an early riser,” he said, a smile on his lips. “I think it will be quite warm later, don’t you?”
“I should not be surprised for it is already very pleasant,” she agreed. “Have we much farther to travel, sir?”
“We should be at Holbeach Towers by teatime,” he replied. “As it is such a lovely day would you care to ride with me instead of in the carriage?”
“If it were possible I should like it above all things,” Hester said truthfully. “But I do not have a riding habit. I used to ride but . . . Papa did not have a suitable mount for me.”
Hester’s father, blaming her for her wickedness, had sold her mare as a punishment because she would not tell him the name of her seducer. The memory brought a look of wistful sadness to her eyes. However, in another moment, the shadows had gone and she smiled once more.
“Do you intend to stay with your aunt for the next two weeks, sir?” she asked. “Or have you business that will take you elsewhere?”
“My father’s estate is less than half an hour’s ride away,” Paul told her. “I shall go there once my aunt and cousin are safely home. However, I shall visit most days, and I daresay my mother will beg the favor of your company at dinner at least once during your stay. You will not be rid of me so easily, Miss Weston, I do assure you.”
His teasing smile made Hester’s heart race wildly. When he looked at her in that way, she felt an overwhelming need to have him hold her close. Yet, that would be dangerous. Hester knew only too well that innocent kisses could swiftly turn to something very different. Captain Crawford was not Richard Mortimer. She did not believe he would force himself on her as had the other, but she was not sure she would want him to stop once he began.
She felt that she was being drawn into his net, his web of silken charm enfolding her, binding her and making her his prisoner. How easy it would be to place her life in his hands, to allow him to lead her down the primrose path to happiness. Yet, if he should ask her to be his wife, she must in honor refuse.
Hester felt a surge of rebellion. Surely what she had done as an innocent girl was not so very wicked? Was she not entitled to a little happiness?
“Your eyes are full of mysteries,” Paul told her and his expression was so intent that she trembled inwardly, half expecting him to take her in his arms and kiss her. “Who are you, Hester, and what secrets are you hiding behind that serene mask you show us?”
Would that she might tell him the truth. A deep longing swept through her, a need to throw herself against his chest and let him take her burden from her, but her fear of seeing disgust in his eyes held her back.
“What makes you think I have secrets?”
“Do you not?” he raised his brows at her.
“Perhaps,” Hester replied striving for a light touch. “But surely a lady is entitled to her secrets, sir. Is there nothing in your past that you would prefer to conceal?”
“Touché!” Paul laughed. “Too much I fear, but we should not explore that too much. You are delightful, Hester. Will you allow me to call you by your name in private?”
“Yes, if you wish it. I think we may claim to be good friends, sir.”
“If I dared, I would claim more,” Paul told her, a burning light in his eyes that made her stomach tighten with nerves. She blushed and would have moved past him, for she feared giving too much away if she stayed. Her heart was racing, and she felt a breathless need that she dare not identify. He caught her arm, detaining her, persuading her to look at him once more. “No, do not run away, Hester. You feel something between us. I am sure you do.”
She could not deny it for her whole body cried out to him, and she longed to be in his arms, to feel his lips on hers and the happiness of being close to him. She gazed up into his blue eyes, her breathing difficult as her senses reeled, and she felt as if she were drowning in his hot gaze. In Bath, she had felt protected by the structure of polite society, which never gave them the chance to be truly alone, but here, on the grassy banks of this river, it was as if they were the only two people on this earth. He was an attractive man, a man she knew to be of a passionate nature, and she—she was in love with him. She experienced a slow burning need within her but suppressed it at once. She could never marry and what else was there?
The answer was too shaming. She might of course become his mistress, but that was against all that she believed in, all that made her the woman she was. She had lost the right to his respect, but she could not give herself in such a relationship. The alternative was a bleak and empty future, but she could not change the past.
“Even if that were true, I could not leave my mother.” Hester fell back on the excuse she had given Henry Blackwater. “And now I should return to the inn, sir. I shall be looked for.”
His hold on her wrist did not immediately give way as he asked, “Is Mrs. Weston an invalid then?”
“No, but she relies on me. She has her sister with her at the moment but will expect me to return home soon.”