Chapter 9
Hester had never thought that a seduction could occur over weeks with a thousand little gestures most people wouldn’t notice at all. But Calchas was unlike any man she’d ever met.
Everything he did was meticulously thought out and for her pleasure, from the carriage rides that he arranged for her to take to her ever-growing shop each day, to the conversations they had and questions that he asked her on those rides, which were all about her, her desires, and the success of her business.
In her experience, grand lords and most men wished to talk only about themselves, but not Calchas. Calchas loved to talk about her. He loved to talk about her dreams. He loved to talk about her pastries, and he loved to talk about Ellen.
But most fascinating of all, he never tried to bring up her past. He never tried to bring up the life she’d led or why she had left her privileged childhood situation.
And when he spoke of the life she’d lived with her husband, it was always with kindness and joy.
He never tried to bring any sort of darkness to their conversations, and she was so incredibly grateful because she had known far too much darkness in these last years.
Everything he did seemed to be to make her feel a sense of fun, and she had not had so much fun in years.
The Briarwoods were nothing but fun, it seemed to her.
She knew this wasn’t entirely true. She knew that there were difficulties with members of the family.
They each had their troubles and trials, and yet the general way that they approached the world and life was so unique that somehow, despite the hardships that came to them, they rallied and supported each other.
It seemed as if life could not bring a single one of them down.
So, when Calchas asked her to dance in the beautiful and boisterous family drawing room, she took his hand. What else could she do? Anything else would be ridiculous.
Besides, she wanted to dance with him. She wanted to be closer to him because she was being seduced, but in the best possible way, and she did not feel guilty about it. She refused to feel guilty about it.
She had been married. It was true. And she had loved her husband, but she had not died with her husband. She was alive, very much so, but she had barely been living these last few years.
His offer of a bit of sin had startled her, but it had been…welcome. She was shocked by this, but over the weeks, a desire for him had been ever growing and had become undeniable.
She knew that any affection or intimacy that Calchas offered her was not on condition of his help. She would not dishonor him with such a thought. Or any of the Briarwoods, for that matter. She knew that she could leave this house at any moment, and none of them would expect a thing in turn.
If anything, if she suddenly left, they would care about her, worry about her, wish her the very best, but not a single one of them would say a negative word or wish ill upon her or feel as if she was indebted to them.
They were a noble, singular lot, and she loved the feeling of being with them.
When Laertes switched to a waltz, she felt her cheeks heat, for she did love the waltz, and she hadn’t danced it in years.
Still, it did seem a rather shocking thing to do in front of the entire family.
But the room was very large, filled with tables and couches and settees, chairs tucked into corners, and books were everywhere.
And it was crowded with people living life with zest.
And then, suddenly, it seemed as if half the room decided to get up to dance.
All married couples, she realized. The Briarwoods seemed to adore marriage and they adored being married.
And as Calchas stood holding her carefully in his embrace, she quickly realized that she was witnessing love en masse.
The couples dancing about her did not feel the need to hide their love. They embraced each other quite fully. Some of them even gave each other little kisses, pressed their foreheads together, and held onto each other as if the world could never harm them.
Calchas smiled down at her. “You look like a codfish.”
She laughed. “Do I?”
“Oh, yes,” he said. “Have you never seen people in love?”
“No, not like this,” she mused. “Heavens, it’s as if I’m surrounded.”
He laughed. “Well, you are.”
He placed his hand just below her shoulder blade, took up her other hand, and then began to rock them back and forth. She had assumed that he would try to make the dance seductive, but like all his seductions, this was different.
He had a very unique and admirable approach. He used the dip and sway of the music to swirl and turn and bob them about the room.
He moved masterfully, weaving them in between the couples who were dancing with a great deal more romantic feeling than the two of them.
For a moment, she wished, oh, how she wished that he would surrender to the feeling of the music, but he seemed more determined to whisk her about so that she felt as if she was dancing upon air. And she did because he was so strong. It felt as if her toes were barely touching the floor.
He made her feel both free and secure at once, and she marveled at his ability to do this.
“You love to dance, don’t you?” she said.
“I do, indeed,” he affirmed. “It is one of the few things in this town I genuinely enjoy. And you?” he asked. “Do you love to dance?”
“I like it well enough, but I must confess that with you…” Her voice trailed off.
“Yes?” he prompted, his gaze softening.
“I shouldn’t compliment you,” she teased. “You shall only grow terribly arrogant.”
He let out a dramatic sigh. “We mustn’t have that, must we?”
“No, indeed,” she said, her lips twitching with amusement. “It will do you a terrible ill.”
He winked. “I promise I’ll be able to handle it.”
“Well, you give me a great deal of pleasure,” she dared to admit. She cleared her throat and added, “If I’m honest.”
His hand tightened ever so slightly, and he rocked her ever nearer to him.
“Do I,” he whispered softly, “give you pleasure?”
“Yes,” she said gently, tilting her head back, wishing she could feel more of him, wishing she could give into more too.
The weeks together had all been so good.
So many positive things had happened, and she felt secure for the first time in years, maybe her whole life.
Because she had always felt like she was living while walking on a tight rope, where at any moment, she could plunge to the rocky ground below.
But somehow, she knew that here in Heron House, in Calchas’s arms, he would never ever let her fall.
She couldn’t sleep.
It was driving her positively mad, and the only thing to do when she couldn’t sleep was to slip out of her bed. She gave a look to Ellen. Ellen had been sleeping like the veritable dead since coming to Heron House, and she was so glad of it.
Her dear old friend had eased into life here and was blossoming. As had Alabaster! The cat acted as if he owned Heron House, roaming about, sleeping wherever he pleased, living on a diet of fish and milk, often given from the cups of the many children who lived there.
Yes, wherever he went, he was followed by a horde of happy children, eager to give him love.
And much to Hester’s amazement, Ellen had also taken to the many the children running about the house.
She’d always been particularly good with little children.
And now, Ellen was thriving. She loved playing with the little ones.
She loved reading them stories. She loved playing hide-and-seek with them in the great big house, and she loved to sing to them as well.
It lifted Hester’s heart to see Ellen so happy.
She didn’t want to have to ever take Ellen away from here.
She didn’t want to ever go away from here.
Now that she’d been here for a few weeks in the company of Phoebe and all the other female Briarwood cousins, this place felt safe, supportive, a haven.
She wondered if she had had this family, would she have stayed in the ton?
What a ridiculous question! Of course she would have, because if she had been a Briarwood, she would not have had to run away to marry her husband.
They would’ve welcomed him with open arms. She had understood this by witnessing the way they had welcomed so many into their family from every walk of life.
She swung her legs off the bed, pushed her feet into slippers, and grabbed her robe. She had been given several clothes from many of the female members of the house. Calchas had tried to offer to buy her a new wardrobe, but she had resisted.
She said that when she made money of her own, she would do it. But she had a funny feeling he was not going to give in so easily and that he would insist that she could pay him back. But she knew she would never be able to, not really, not the way Calchas was spoiling her.
He made no importance of it. He did not expect anything for his generosity, and her heart swelled at his sharing of his abundance. It was his nature, not a tool to get what he wished.
She slipped out into the hall with a single taper burning, wound her way down to the servants’ halls, and slipped through the dark until, at last, she came to the large kitchen.
Usually, she would never prove so bold as to go into another cook’s kitchen in the dead of night. But the Briarwood’s cook had given her permission to do so, recognizing her as a fellow chef.
One of the only ways she could ease her nerves at night, when she could not still her brain, was to bake. The stove’s embers were banked, and she took a quick look and handled the oven, bringing it to life.
She knew exactly what she was going to make, but first she would have to cream butter and sugar and eggs. She took out butter, she took out a bowl of eggs, and she found the jar of sugar.