Moth Among Butterflies

CHAPTER III

Several letters- all business in nature -had arrived for the Duke of Devonshire that night. He sat on his writing desk scribbling replies for them, but cannot seem to put his mind to it. Today, he was a stranger to himself. He had never submitted to a woman- ever. He was always in control of everything: how to make her blush, how to talk to her, how to act around her, and how to make himself attractive to her. But it was very hard to know these with Esther. She always took him by surprise, leaving him dumbfounded enough to just follow her lead. But it felt refreshing rather than unpleasant.

He stopped writing, closed his eyes, and massaged his temples. No. He is a duke! Taking a fancy out of a waitress would put him in the suds! Would his mother even allow a union between them? Always did she remimd him to marry out of love anyways. But was this valid enough reason to lose his heart to the one woman he actually wanted to get-to-know? But what is he thinking? This might be nothing but calf-love!

Cavendish took a letter out of his drawer and unfolded it. It was the post he had failed to read this morning due to his haste to leave- an invitation to Whitmore hall, home to the Earl of Carlisle. A ball was to be held in it tomorrow week in honor of himself, the Duke of Devonshire. He had heard rumors about this Carlisle, but never knew him by sight. The ton said he has a daughter, an only child, who has been three seasons out, recieved more than a dozen of offers, but never agreed to one. The earl, obviously, considers him a prospect. Good! A diversion like this will surely get his mind off that blithe and invigorating waitress.

He laid the invitation down and stacked the letters clean before putting them in his drawer. Enough thinking. Tomorrow would be more productive for business letters. He has to sleep and get rid of Esther's beautiful gap-tooth smile in his mind.

The carriage awaited Cavendish the next morning. With a new set of stable boy's clothes laid on his dresser, he immediately got up and tended to his toilette. He need not a valet, for he doesn't have options for clothing in the meantime. Today he would do his forgotten task yesterday, buy new sets of clothing especially now that a ball is drawing near. He would outshine every nobleman in the ball, so only he would be noticed by Miss Carlisle! Who knows? He might have a good night once again. Yes, because that is who he is and not this speechless and docile fellow who fancies a waitress! After he had changed his night garments, he made sure to write a letter to the Earl of Carlisle, honoring his invitation. And after all these exertions, he headed to his ride.

It was only about a mile to town, and the roads were good. Cavendish brought two letters from last night with him: one from a Mr. Piers Trevor on the arrival of cotton two nights ago for production in London at the duke's factory, and the other from Esquire Wilfred Highsmith on sent bank notes for land renting. To construct replies in mind, out the window he looked at the green pastures for help with thought organization. But all words left his mind when he saw the familiar figure of Esther. On the lane towards the backstreets of town, she was on horseback driven by a man!

The duke immediately demanded for a halt from the groom then requested a horse to be removed from the vehicle for his own use. And so after all the arrangements were done, away with him in pursuit of this very curious and infuriating sight, dismissing the groom, his valet, and two servants who were commanded to go back to Althorp lodge for the interim.

He arrived at quite a good distance enough to see Esther and the rider. They stopped near the outskirts of town, and nobody was around. Cavendish found this situation very aggravating! Who is this man? Why was he with Esther? What is their relationship? A woman to be riding with a man in such a manner can only mean two things; He is family or lover. But he beseechingly prayed it was the latter.

"Your welcome, Esther." The rider smiled, his pearly whites showing in contrast to his dark brown beard. Esther scribbled something on her pad, but she had her back on the duke, so he could not see the words she flashed for the rider.

"Don't worry about me. I'm fine with Emma gong to the ball." the rider assured.

Another scribble...and flash.

"She is not my lover, Esther. I do not have the fortune to support our married life! And the master will never agree to our union." the rider looked down in barefaced sadness.

Scribble. Flash.

"Yes, I do think that she may feel the same way I do, but I do not encourage her. Enough Esther! She will have no future with me. To love is not enough. I must go now. The horses need be mucked out and their waters changed. Have a good time, okay?" the rider cocluded while he cupped Esther's cheek and made small shakes with her head. And before mounting the horse, Esther was able to reach the mess of curly hair he had just to muddle it up some more.

The duke, although in a conclusion that he was not her lover, still felt a little angry at how fond of each other these two were. Just when he decided to actually remove himself from the thought of Esther, here she is appearing out of nowhere, increasing the already-full bucket of questions he has for her! But no more of these hidden inquiries. He could just ask her right now.