‘Well enough, for acquaintances.’
‘And had she any expectations from the colonel? Something that his relationship, whatever it was, with Hester could have jeopardised?’
‘I do not know.’ Georgiana sat silent, her lower lip caught between her teeth. Guy regarded the fire and wondered if there was any way in which he could have handled that scene any worse. Probably not.
‘They were cousins,’ Georgy said suddenly. ‘And he was unmarried. I think her son must have been his heir. You think that was it?’ She looked at him, eyes wide and anxious. ‘Have I made a terrible mistake?’
‘No, you have made an understandable mistake, my dear. I have made one which might be unforgivable. Will you excuse me? I think if I do not go out and ride hard and long I will yield to the temptation to go right back across to the Moon House and that will probably make things a hundred times worse.’
‘Can you make it better?’ Georgy was watching him with a troubled expression quite unlike her normal confidence.
‘I do not know. I only know that I love her, and that is suddenly not enough.’
He took a hunter from the stables and rode, as he had promised, both hard and long. Riding blind he found himself up on the downs where he had held Hester in his arms and where she had reacted with what, he now realised, was understandable revulsion to her suspicion that he was offering her a carte blanche. Then on, along the crest of the hills in the teeth of the bitter wind until at last he dropped down again, through the beech woods to a village whose name he did not trouble to ask.
An inn called the Valiant Trooper furnished him with punch and bread and cheese and left him undisturbed by the blazing fire while the day lengthened and the sky became darker. At last, Guy stood up and stretched. He had a plan, of sorts, he had his bitter anger at himself under control and he had some hope. Hope that Hester loved him as much as he thought she might, hope that her anger and bitter sense of betrayal was a measure of just how much.
As he settled up the tapster pointed out the pike road that led to Winterbourne and Guy rode back through the gathering darkness to the gates of the Moon House.
Some instinct made him look up and there, lit faintly by a candle, he could see Hester, her head bowed, one hand resting splayed against the glass as though to touch the moon that was reflected there.
‘Hester, I love you. I will make it right, I promise you.’
‘My lord?’ A groom was swinging the gates open.
‘What? Oh, nothing, just thinking aloud. Thank you, Wilkins. Give him a good rub down and extra oats, he’s done well today.’
Hester came down to breakfast the next morning filled with a kind of bitter energy that cowed her household into silence. As she met their anxious eyes her resolve almost faltered, then she took a
deep breath and sat down. ‘I am not going to discuss what happened yesterday. You all know the truth, but l forbid you to offer any kind of explanation to Lord Buckland or his sister. You will not speak or have any kind of communication with them. Neither they, nor any of their servants, will set foot in this house. Do I make myself plain?’
‘But, Hester, if he knew the truth…’ Maria faltered with what Hester realised was considerable courage. Explaining felt like running a knife into her heart, but she knew she owed them that.
‘If I, or you, tell him the truth, how will I ever know he trusts me? If he cannot tell what and who I am, then I do not want him, or his love.’
‘Bastard,’ Jethro muttered, his face red with emotion. Hester could tell he was close to tears.
‘I am sorry, we will have to find you another mentor in place of Mr Parrott,’ she said gently.
‘I don’t care. If he works for him, I don’t want his advice, not no how.’
Silence fell, broken only by Susan mechanically lifting eggs out of the skillet on to a plate and Miss Prudhome tearfully making tea.
‘Are we going to move away?’ Susan ventured at last as they sat down and began to eat. Hester found that she could. It seemed that hunger, or at least hunger stimulated by the smell of frying bacon, could overcome even a broken heart. From somewhere a small, twisted gleam of humour tried to raise its head.
‘What? Cut and run? I think not. We have a party to prepare for and most of the gentry for two miles around invited to it. There will be two fewer guests than I had planned upon; we will not regard that.’ She looked around at their startled faces. ‘I have done nothing wrong. I do not intend skulking off like a pariah, especially after I have offered hospitality to friends.’
‘And to the Nugents,’ Susan reminded her. ‘Lord Buckland had a plan to send them rightabouts. What about that?’
The pain that lanced through her at the mention of his name took Hester by surprise. For a moment she could not reply. ‘I can do nothing about that. All I can hope is to show them a confident face. Surely they will know soon enough they cannot scare me away?’
‘There are two roses due tonight,’ Susan pointed out. The others began immediately to discuss what was to be done, a babble of voices that Hester realised was due to relief at not having to talk, or think, about her ruined romance.
She shrugged. ‘Let them deliver them. Unless they attach a gunpowder charge to them, what harm will it do?’ At the moment she would almost welcome it. Then pride took over and she straightened her back. She had lived through bereavement, insecurity, scandal and opprobrium-one man and his lack of trust, his failure of love, was not going to defeat her now.
‘It’s the full moon.’ Susan sounded uneasy.
‘Well, if Death stalks the house with a scythe, you will just have to take to him with the poker,’ Hester said, realising that she had almost shocked them by making the feeble joke. ‘I am not such a poor honey as to be cast down by one man,’ she said, trying to convince herself. ‘And we are not going to be terrorised by two greedy people. Now, let us make some toast because I warn you, we are going to have a busy day today and this afternoon I am going to go for a drive.’