A Season of Masks and Masquerades

Chapter 50: The Love of a Sinner

The breeze on the streets was as cutting as the air inside the chapel was calm. The candle flames were all stable, not one flickering even by a bit and every breath Esther exhaled murdered the silence of the room for a moment only for it to take over again. 

The placidity of the hour was almost triggering and every smallest sound that occurred once in a while made her heart skip a beat. She was as if waiting impatiently for something that she did not wish to face any soon. 

But he was coming.

She took in another deep breath of courage. She had been quite bold in shaming him for crimes he never committed and had no control over throughout the season, it shouldn't be too difficult to appreciate him for the good, she told herself again. She did not mean to achieve something by doing so, she would understand if he did not wish to accept her regret, her guilt and her confession. After what they had been through the past many months, it was only natural for him to feel the deepest detest for her. However, she had to talk to him, and take the weight off her chest. At least for her own satisfaction, for her own peace. 

She could do that much, of course. 

For the woman who was no less than extremely adept at breaking the hearts of multiple men every season, mending one shouldn't have been such a task. Or so had she assumed, but that was until she heard the door creak open. 

The blood froze in her veins and her heart went stone hard. The breath she sucked in was stuck on the way and she forgot how to exhale. 

At that moment, she realised how equally she was hoping for him to not come. 

But he was now there, with only a few long steps between them and she was far from ready. 

Silence had once again claimed the room but it was now adulterated by the loud heaves of his breathing. 

Did he run there? 

Perhaps he rode a horse. 

Any which way, Esther was glad, it was buying her some more time to collect herself. She couldn't afford to lose her calm. 

Collecting her thoughts and emptying her head, she was only trying to remember how to exhale when she heard it, the loud noise of heavy footsteps. All her courage died yet again but the footsteps didn't. The alarming sound hammered louder against the wooden floor, causing panic to rise in her throat with nowhere to escape. 

He was running to her, this was bad. 

She was not ready. She had finally come to realise that she was in all senses, not ready at all. 

She should've never called for him when she was not ready to face the man. She should've just written a letter, that would've been so much easier and better. A hundred better alternatives began popping up in her head all of a sudden but before she could act on any of them, she heard the footsteps get deafeningly close and a fiercely heated hand caught hold of her risen shoulders and flipped her around like a page in an old lifeless book. 

Breathing came back to her naturally the moment she lost control of her body to him. He had placed one of his hands behind her upper back so she doesn't fall and she was glad he did, for at that moment she had completely lost any and all of whatever broken sense of balance she had ever owned. 

"Miss Sherbourne!" he breathed in alarm and Esther clenched her eyes shut in response. 

His voice was laced with concern and it stung. After all that time, when he only spoke words that hurt her, why was he speaking words of care and concern? Why could he not just be like himself? Hurting, grudging, lying, betraying.