Page 33 of Rescued By the Icy Duke
He could see her fear, a vulnerability, in the slight tremble of her lip, the wideness of her eyes. But she fought it with everything she had. He recognized the look of someone backed into a corner.
Julian slowly rose to his feet too. His tall figure loomed in the cramped space. Yet, as his gaze met hers, the harsh lines of his face softened into a semblance of gentleness. “If that was my intention, it would be the militia out looking for you. Instead, it is just myself, Kingsley, and his man Harper—”
Her body twitched at the mention of the names and Julian hastened to reassure her, “They are well away by now, far south, beyond Theydon Mere. But tell me, why suspect Kingsley as the culprit?”
Ester's lips parted slightly as she answered, her breath catching. “I… It is nothing,” she replied, her voice barely steady. “Please, you must let me leave. I am grateful for all you have done, but I can fend for myself from here on out.”
A flicker of surprise jolted through him.Leave? Now?“You cannot simply walk away from all this,” he insisted. “I know you are in trouble. Whatever it is, I want to help. I am not letting you face this alone.”
“You can’t help!” she burst out, her words cutting through the air like a whip. “This is not something you can just fix with a wave of your hand, Julian. You don’t understand. You can’t.”
“Ester.” He took a step toward her, but she matched it with a step of her own, her foot inching perilously close to the gaping hole where the broken stairwell once stood, causing him to freeze in place. “I—I chose to help you, and I’m not going to stop now. But I cannot do that if you keep shutting me out. What was the real reason you were walking alone with a satchel full of coins at night…”
Kingsley’s words came back to him just then.Satchel of coins.
He leaned back against the walls, still breathing heavily. “Wait. How did he know you were carrying a satchel full of coins?”
Ester looked at him blankly.
“I told Kingsley about the incident where I chased off a brigand who had confronted you on the road. He questioned why a local village girl would be wandering alone at night with a satchel full of coins. I never mentioned the coins,” Julian recounted, his brow furrowing as he pieced together the deception. “But… but Kingsley was out in London that night—of which I’m certain, for he went to meet up with our solicitor, Swinton, down at the Albany.”
Just as he had found it impossible to accept Ester merely as a thief, so too he found it difficult to acknowledge Kingsley as a blackmailer of women.
“It wasn’t Kingsley, but a henchman of his. I am not lying! He came into your study when Molly… fell down the stairs,” Ester muttered. “Alongside a stranger. I was hiding and I could not see them but I heard them. It was the Viscount Kingsley who took your mother’s cameo to try and incriminate me.” Her expression was one of sheer desperation, her fingers clenched tight around the fabric of her dress. “You are chasing after the wrong suspect!”
“Let’s suppose that is true. What about the money?”
“It was my father’s money. My dowry. I did not steal it!” Ester insisted.
“You could have come to me for it,” Julian offered gently.
“I couldn’t. Not with him there.”
Julian took the moment to step closer, his frown deepening. “And why does Kingsley claim your dowry? For what purpose? What does he gain by blackmailing you and trying to isolate you?” He was well aware of the fear flashing in her eyes, the way her hands trembled at her sides, the way her heel inched closer to that gaping hole. She was hiding something far more serious than she was letting on.
“Why do you need to know?” she bit back defensively. “Just let me go. I am well. The curse is not real. You promised you would if I recovered!”
“Then I lied. I am not letting you go until you tell me what is really happening,” he replied, his tone steady, though his heart thundered in his chest. He softened his gaze, searching her face for the truth. “Please, Ester. What does he have over you?”
Her face twisted with a mix of pain and frustration. He could see the conflict raging within her, the battle between her need to keep the truth buried and her desperation for help. “He has lies,” she muttered, her voice rising. “Lies that everyone will believe.”
“What lies?” Julian pressed forward, holding back the urge to grab her shoulders and shake the truth out of her. “You need to trust me, Ester. I want to help, but I cannot unless you confide in me completely.”
“If I tell you,” she breathed, “it will change… it will change everything. You will look at me differently too. Everyone does. I cannot bear to be remembered that way anymore.”
“No,” he countered sharply, closing the distance between them in two strides. “Nothing you say will change the way I see you. You are stronger than you know. But I need to know the truth. Please. Tell me.”
Ester’s body shook, a silent sob catching in her throat. The room seemed to close in around them, his repeated words hammering at her defenses. She squeezed her eyes shut, clenching her fists so hard her nails bit into her palms. She was unraveling right before him. And then, with a choked cry, she shattered.
“Because—” The word tore from her lips, raw and filled with pain. “Because it was he who… who tried to ravish me.” Her voice cracked, the confession exploding out of her in a stifled sob. “He forced himself on me, and when I fought him off, he threatened to ruin my family unless we paid for his silence.”
Julian froze, the blood draining from his face. Her words hit him like a blow, knocking the breath from his lungs, and he stepped back.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Ester collapsed to the ground, her hands covering her face, trying to block out the overwhelming shame that crashed over her in waves. Saying those terrible words aloud to Julian, of all people, made her whole body tremble with fear—fear of rejection, fear of disgust. She sobbed, hiccupping, clutching one hand against her chest in desperate anguish.
The memories of that night stormed her mind, merciless and unrelenting, dragging her back into the horrors she’d tried so hard to forget. She could feel it all again—the terror, the helplessness, her frantic struggle to escape. Her nails dug into the musty planks beneath her, grasping for something, anything, to anchor her to the present, to pull her back to reality.