Chapter Seventeen
Esme dressed with care, knowing that this day was important. It was a time for standing firm and acting with purpose; lace, ribbons and bright colors would not strike the correct note.
Instead, she went again to Frida’s closet and brought out a simple gown of sage-green with small buttons and minimal decoration. Green for Wolvesley, she reminded herself as she tied the sash. She was Esme de Neville, and she would not be taken for a fool.
When Jennifer offered to dress her hair, Esme dismissed her with a smile. She could manage very well herself, with a comb and hairpins. Once ready, she spent little time gazing into the looking glass. Instead, she walked swiftly through the long gallery and descended to the great hall.
Her stomach was churning with so much anticipation that she could scarcely even glance at the foodstuffs laid out on the trestle table. Her gaze went to Adam, standing ramrod straight in front of the newly lit fire. He turned at her footsteps and smiled, softly.
“You look beautiful, Esme.”
That had not been her goal. She pulled a face as she joined him at the hearth. “I hoped to look serious.”
“You can be both.” He took her hands in his. “You know that you have my full support, whatever the next hours bring?”
“I do.” Standing by his side made her feel safe and content, despite the ordeal ahead of them. “I see you have chosen to keep the stubble I so admired.” She tilted her head and smiled up at him.
“Alas, I have not had the opportunity to wash or change my clothes,” he said ruefully.
“Of course.” Her hand went to her mouth. “Crispin is still in your chamber.”
“Shall I bring him down?”
Adam was a man of action, but Esme found she had not yet gathered her courage. She shivered and wrapped her arms about herself, glancing toward the solar door. “Has Jonah not risen?”
“I have not seen him.” Adam regarded her carefully. Even in his crumpled tunic, he exuded an air of authority. “Shall I knock on his door?”
“Nay.” Her answer came too quickly, and she took a deep breath to calm herself. “In truth, Adam, I would prefer that my brother did not bear witness to my shame.”
Jennifer chose that moment to come in from the kitchen. She bobbed into a small curtsy when she saw them by the fire. “Beg pardon, milady. Shall I clear the table?”
Esme tried to order her thoughts. “Lord Jonah has not yet broken his fast. Leave it for a while, if you please, Jennifer.”
When the maid left the room, Adam once again took her hands inside his. The urge to lean into his strength and comfort was almost overwhelming, but she knew she must stand tall.
“Any shame belongs to Crispin. ’Tis not yours to bear,” he declared.
She met this gaze. “My foolishness, then,” she amended.
“Nay, Esme. I will not hear this.”
“And I will not deny it.” She made her voice level. “I made a mistake. A foolish mistake. ’Twould be wrong of me to pretend otherwise.”
“You allowed yourself to be deceived by a man who set out to charm you. That is no great crime.”
His calm insistence broke through her barriers, and she smiled up at him, some of the tension leaving her body. “Not all would see it that way, but it makes my heart glad to know that you do. I was a fool, but I shall know better in the future.”
“Forsooth, you are very wise.” He paused to push back a tendril of her hair. “You said something this morn that has made me see everything differently.”
A warm feeling of pleasure ran through her, at his words as well as his touch. “What did I say?”
“That I should dare to dream.” He cupped his palm about her face, looking deeply into her eyes. “I am endeavoring to do so.”
Her breath caught in her throat. It would be the most natural thing in the world to stand on her tiptoes and press her lips to his. But a voice spoke in her ear and urged restraint. This was no time for girlish gaiety.
Later, there would be time for kisses and dreams.
Esme placed her hand atop his and took a steadying breath. “I am happy to hear it. This gives me courage to face what is to come.”
Adam gave a slight nod, seemingly privy to the run of her thoughts. “Should I fetch him now?”
Her lips quirked. “I suppose we cannot delay indefinitely.”
He dropped a chaste kiss onto the top of her head. “Have faith, Esme.”
With that he strode in the direction of the servant’s staircase, leaving her alone.
Esme clasped her hands together and gazed fixedly at the fire.
She wanted to pace, to release some frustration by pounding the wooden floorboards, but she would not give Crispin the satisfaction of coming into the room and seeing her ill at ease.
She could not countenance him thinking he still had the ability to make her heart pound.
They are taking an unholy amount of time.
She spun around to face the servants’ staircase, willing the panel to open and for Adam to appear, but the door remained resolutely closed. A pressure against her calves made her look down to see Felicity winding about her ankles. The little cat mewed, as if sensing her distress.
“Are you come to give me comfort?” Esme asked idly, reaching down to stroke her.
Felicity purred loudly, arching her back with her tail stuck straight in the air.
Esme was about to scoop her up, when the sound of trampling footsteps made her pause. She had just straightened her back when the door to the servants’ staircase opened, and a familiar figure emerged.
Crispin.
The same chestnut curls and glinting eyes which had once made her knees weaken. Though now she fought a wave of nausea at his confident smile.
“Good morn, sweet Esme.”
“’Tis not the best of morns, for you,” she replied tartly, nodding toward his bound wrists.
But Crispin merely shrugged. “I see my betrothed, looking lovely as ever. And a table fair groaning with foodstuffs.” At this announcement, Crispin’s stomach audibly rumbled. “I am not an ambitious man, Esme. I do not seek more than that.”
She was discomfited, which was no doubt his intention. Esme’s eyes traveled behind Crispin’s crumpled figure to the doorway which remained stubbornly empty. Crispin followed her gaze and smiled.
“I begin to see how the situation unfolds. You wait upon my jailer, do you? The hulking serf who pretends to be my better?”
“Adam pretends to be naught he isn’t,” she said hotly.
“Adam, is it?” He raised his eyebrows and Esme wondered why she had never noticed the cruel slant to his eyes.
As if their words had summoned him, Adam now appeared at the bottom of the staircase. He closed the door behind him and came to stand beside Crispin. He had changed into a fresh shirt and fastened a sword belt around his waist. Esme was reassured by the gleam of metal at his hip.
“What are your orders, milady?” His voice was quiet, and his actions were understated, but his eyes were quick and alert.
Esme lifted her chin, bidding herself to remain calm. “Crispin is to leave.”
Adam put a heavy hand on the knight’s shoulder. “You heard the lady.”
However, Crispin seemed hardly to hear them. “Not so fast, dear Esme. We have much to discuss. And I have not yet broken my fast.”
“There is naught to discuss.” She worked hard to keep her voice from trembling as a feeling of rage rushed through her.
“I have traveled frequently and far in these lands.” Crispin strolled to the window and gazed out at the green fields beyond, as if he were an honored guest at Ember Hall. “And wherever I have rested, I have always been welcomed as a knight sworn to the Earl of Wolvesley.”
Adam made a strangled sound. “A privilege you have abused, sir.”
“A privilege I have enjoyed.” Crispin kept his back to them both. “Though one that will pale into insignificance once I am accustomed to my new standing.”
Esme’s hands clenched into fists. She could not bear to hear him say the words she knew were coming.
“Please stop,” she choked out, at the same time as Crispin turned to face them with a flourish that was hardly dampened by the fact of his bound wrists.
“As the new son of the Earl of Wolvesley.”
“You will never be that,” she declared, through gritted teeth. All her carefully gathered composure had deserted her. She thought that she would like to run at Crispin and slap his face.
Adam strode forward before she could do anything she might later regret. “It is time for you to leave.” He put his hands on Crispin’s shoulders and turned him to face to door. Esme was gratified to see that he stood some half a head taller than their foe.
Nonetheless, Crispin found the strength and balance to resist, seemingly grinding his boots into the polished wooden floor.
“Unhand me this instant.” He swatted at Adam as if he were a mere annoyance. “How dare you treat me this way? Do you not know who I am?”
Something had pierced Adam’s careful self-control. Esme could see it in the way he held his body, like a hawk about to dive upon its prey. “I have seen many men like you.” Anger flashed across his stubbled face as he leaned closer. “Aye, I know exactly who you are.”
“I am the son of a nobleman.” Crispin glared into Adam’s eyes, even though he had to tilt his chin upwards to do so. “And you are nothing. You have no authority over me.”
A terrible fear dropped over Esme, like a coarse and scratchy blanket.
Could Crispin be right?
Even if Adam successfully removed him from Ember Hall, there was no telling what harm he might wreak upon her, should he return to Wolvesley.
As if reading her thoughts, Crispin switched his gaze from Adam to herself. Despite all her best efforts, Esme found herself cringing.
“If you insist on me leaving this place, I will go at once to Wolvesley Castle. Imagine, dear Esme, the conversations I will have there.”
Sickened, she pulled away from his hypnotic gaze and looked, instead, at Adam. For a brief moment, their eyes met across the vast hall, and she felt as if all might yet be well.
Adam’s fingers closed around the hilt of his sword, no doubt longing to draw it free. “You are in no position to bargain, Crispin. You are bound and I am not. If I must take you back to Wolvesley myself to ensure the earl hears the truth, I will do so.”
Esme’s heart leaped with hope, but Crispin only chuckled—a sound which made the hairs rise up on the back of her neck.
“You will, will you? And who do you think the earl will believe? A knight he has ridden with into battle? Or a Scots servant he has never before laid eyes upon?”
Esme took a breath. “My father will recognize the truth when he hears it.”
“Excellent.” Crispin nodded sagely. He strolled over to the trestle table and perused the contents with lazy interest. “He will recognize the truth about his daughter, who laid with me freely, in a stable, no less.”
Esme hated herself for flinching and hated Crispin even more when he hooted at her obvious discomfort.
“Mayhap he will recognize the truth about that same daughter having transferred her affections to a man worth precisely naught.” He raised an eyebrow at her mockingly, before raking his gaze over Adam so there was no doubting his meaning.
“I’ve seen how you look at him, Esme. Like a cat desperate for attention.
Like this one, here.” Before Esme’s startled eyes, Crispin took aim at Felicity with his foot.
The little cat had been sniffing his boots; now she flew through the air with a mewl of protest.
“You brute.” She ran over to where Felicity landed, relieved to see her recover and then dart away—tail low—to hide beneath an armchair. Esme put her hands upon the back of that same chair, her pulse pounding. “How could you do that to a defenseless creature?”
“To whom do you refer?” Crispin drawled. “Yourself or the cat.”
“Enough of this.” Adam held up a palm to silence him. “You can accuse me of aught you wish. But I will not hear you slander Lady Esme’s good name.”
“Then you had best stay away from Wolvesley.” Crispin shrugged.
“Especially in the days to come. And it matters not how you glower at me, nor how your fingers linger on the hilt of your cheap sword. You are but a servant here. You have no authority. You cannot strike down a knight without facing comeuppance, and you know it.”
“I will face whatever I have to.” Adam’s face was white with anger. Esme knew a thrill of fear that he really would strike Crispin.
And face the consequences.
“Stop it, both of you,” she cried, striding between them and holding out both of her arms.
“Now this I long to see.” Crispin looked as if he was enjoying himself, despite his hands being bound before him. “You have the status, Esme, but not the strength to stop me. If only your brother was here.”
“Oh, but he is.”
Esme turned, along with Adam and Crispin, to see Jonah standing in the open doorway from the solar.
He adjusted the cuffs of his shirt and smiled benevolently. “I have no doubt you were referring to Tristan, of course. But I’m afraid you shall have to make do with me.”
Her heart sank.
Now my brother must bear witness to my shame.
“It seems I have much to catch up on.” Jonah walked steadily into the hall and surveyed the trestle table. “Esme, you can fill me in whilst I break my fast.”