“I do not like your tone, young lady,” her mother said with a sigh. “This matter is most urgent, and I urge you to treat it as such.”
“A man whom I have not seen in months proposed to…I gather it was you or Colin, that he wishes to marry me, and I am to treat it as urgent or important? Surely you jest, mama!”
Her mother snapped her spine straight and gave her a censorious stare. “Mr. Devon Rundbull is the cousin of Squire Redford in Berkshire, and Mr. Rundbull’s prospects have changed most fortuitously. He was named the heir of Baron Winchell only last week. He is now very suitable for you to consider him your husband, and the man is by all account enamored.”
Ester glared at her mother with shocking hurt. Everyone knew the man had made a cake of himself over Ellie once. How could mama even suggest Ester entertain his pursuit? “Mr. Rundbull fancied himself in love with Ellie while we were in Penporth. I look like Ellie, mama. We are identical! That is the only reason Mr. Rundbull might have considered me to be his wife, given how different Ellie and I are in our temperament.” Ester stood and took a deep breath. “It certainly does not matter his reason. I will not have him.”
Lady Celdon thumped her cane on the carpet and glared at her. “That is not for you to decide,” she said imperiously. “Our family has been doing well with your two sisters’ marriage. It is also important—”
“Lady Celdon,” she said, unwilling to ignore Lady Celdon’s blatant suggestion that Ellie’s marriage to Lucien was not a good match and knowing she would be berated for her rude interruption. “All of my siblings have married well thus far. They all have partners who love them with their entire souls. Lizzy and Fanny are not more happily wedded because they married a duke and a viscount.”
The old dragon narrowed her eyes at her in reprimand. “This willfulness of yours is unsupportable and must not influence your younger sisters, you will consider your actions seriously, young lady.”
Ester swallowed her retort, knowing it would only lead to further rebuke.
“Lady Marbury’s ball is tonight. See that you attend with your mother and accept a dance with Mr. Rundbull. You cannot know he is unsuitable unless you at least converse with him.”
“I know he is unsuitable because my heart is already attached to another,” she said softly, meeting their gazes determinedly. “I’ll only marry if he asks.”
Her mother sputtered. “Who is this gentleman? We can only assume a right rogue since you’ve had no gentleman callers paying you any address, yet you have formed a tendre?”
Ester dipped into a curtsy. “Until I am assured of his feelings and intentions, there is little sense for me to speak about my heart’s hope regarding him. If you will excuse me, mama, Lady Celdon, I shall write a letter to my sisters in Kent before preparing for Lady Marbury’s ball.”
Ester hurried from the room, aware of the odd prick of tears behind her lids. She had indeed fallen in love with Edmond Glendevon. Happily yet also miserably so. Once in her room, she closed the door and leaned against it, taking a few steady breaths.
This was your choice…now do not fall apart over it.
Lifting her chin, she started to strip from her clothes. Ester did not really want to attend a ball without her sisters or Edmond, but she was determined not to wear her heart on her sleeve and show that she was pining for him. Even if only she understood the longing.
She selected the new sapphire blue dress that had arrived while she was in Kent. It fitted perfectly but was fairly simple in design with two layers of flounces at the hem, edged in thin ruffles of silver lace. Standing before the mirror, she noted the brightness of her eyes, the redness of her cheeks. She whirled away and sat before the vanity so that Mary could style her hair. Ester was determined to make merry at tonight’s ball and not to wallow in pain or regret over her choices.
Lady Marbury’sball was a rousing success, as evidenced by the awful crush. People seemed to overflow from the gardens, the public rooms, and the ballroom. The air was stifling; more than one person jostled Ester and even stepped on her toes. Yet she did not mind it, for it distracted her against the clamoring ache and longing inside her heart. Looping her hand with her cousin’s arm, they went upstairs to the balcony and peered down at the crowd.
“Is Samuel here?” she asked Caroline, who was anxiously searching the throng.
“No,” Caroline said, her cheeks glowing. “I…I encountered someone in the gardens before you arrived, and I merely wanted to see if he was below stairs.
Ester arched a brow. “You are blushing. Your cheeks almost match the pink of your gown.”
Her cousin scowled. “How infuriating! The dratted scoundrel stole a kiss! Claiming some nonsense that I was the most beautiful lady he had seen tonight and could not help himself. Does that give that knave the right? I slapped him, of course, but my anger is still not vented.”
Her cousin was indeed stunningly beautiful with her blonde hair and dark blue eyes. The rosy hue of her gown looked delightful on her and reflected the delicacy of her complexion, now her flush was fading. Her face was also flawlessly designed with a small, elegant nose, gently rounded cheeks, and sensual lips.
“And that is why you search for this knave?” Ester said teasingly. “To vent your anger? Or because well…you found his kiss interesting.”
Caroline’s eyes widened and she spluttered. “Ester!”
“Forgive me, I tease you. Who was it?”
“The Earl of Langdon.”
“I heard he is a widower, and he is not about much—” Ester’s thoughts scattered when she saw Edmond entering the ballroom.
How out of place he looked in this setting where everyone glittered like the finest butterflies. The man was astoundingly handsome, dressed in full black. To her surprise, even his waistcoat was a dark color, and only his white cravat stood out in stark contrast. Her heart kicked against her chest and her mouth dried. They hadn’t bid each other any special farewell when she departed from Kent a few days ago with that endless longing and hope entering her heart.
“Who is that?” Caroline whispered, having followed Ester’s gaze.
She gripped the edge of the balcony railing. “That is Mr. Glendevon. The eldest.”