Читать книгу A Desirable Husband - Mary Nichols - Страница 10

Felix followed the procession of guests down the corridor, lined with greenery, to the Egyptian Hall where the banquet was being held. In honour of the occasion, the columns round its walls were decorated with symbols to represent the different British counties and their products. At the head of the table were two figures representing peace and plenty and at the other Britannia holding a plan of the Exhibition, which could only have been the committee’s own plan, surrounded by four angels delivering invitations to all the countries in the world to send exhibits. ‘What do you think of that?’ he murmured to the man beside him, nodding at Britannia.

‘The statue?’

‘No, the plan of the building in her hand.’

‘I think we could do better.’

‘I am sure we can.’ He held out his hand. ‘Felix Pendlebury.’

‘How do you do?’ Myles took the hand and shook it. ‘Myles Moorcroft.’

‘Oh, I’ve heard of you. A railway entrepreneur, aren’t you?’

‘Among other things. I have heard your name somewhere, too. Lord Pendlebury, if I’m not mistaken. Something to do with the manufacture of glass.’

‘Among other things,’ he said, echoing Myles’s own words.

‘You intend to submit an exhibit?’

‘More than that—I’m going to have a go at designing the Exhibition hall. It needs to be light and airy, something to make people want to come to visit, not a mausoleum.’

Myles laughed. ‘Glass?’

‘Well, why not?’

‘No reason at all, if it can be made safe.’

‘I think it can. Glass is much tougher nowadays than it used to be.’

They stopped speaking as Prince Albert arrived and took his seat. ‘Have you met His Highness?’ Myles ventured.

‘Yes, we both belong to the Society of Arts, which is how I came to be involved with the idea of the Exhibition. What about you?’

‘I met him through the Society to Improve the Condition of the Working Classes. We are both passionate about that.’

‘Ah, now I place you. You’re the gentleman who calls himself a navvy. I heard tell of a wager about filling a truck with forty tons of earth in a day. Is it true? Did you do it?’

‘Yes, though that was some time ago. Nowadays I only go on site to inspect the works and make sure the men are content. A contented workforce works better than one that is constantly bickering.’

‘Then we are in agreement. What is your interest in the Exhibition?’

‘Apart from raising funds, I might be interested in supplying the builders with girders and other metal products from my engineering works in Peterborough. And I would like to exhibit a locomotive.’

‘A locomotive! How would you bring it to the site?’

‘Ah, that’s the challenge.’

Felix laughed and they continued to talk animatedly through all the courses—turbot soup, fish, lobster, game pies, pigeon and mutton, fruit cakes and ices—and only stopped when the traditional loving cup was passed round the whole company. After that the loyal toast was drunk and the National Anthem sung before the speeches. First to speak was Prince Albert, who outlined the reasons for having an exhibition and was vigorously applauded when he said it should be paid for by public donation and not government funds. ‘Which is the reason we are all here,’ Felix murmured.

The Prince was followed by several more, all echoing the same theme. Sir Robert Peel, an elder statesman and former Prime Minster, said he was confident they would succeed in spite of the objections of some, a pointed reference to people like Rowan. The Earl of Carlisle was the last speaker and he said the Exhibition should encompass all nations, classes and creeds, saying it was predominantly intended as a festival of the working man and woman.

‘Which hardly includes anyone here,’ Felix said, as everyone applauded.

The evening was judged a great success and everyone went away determined to drum up support from their own towns, villages and industries. Felix and Myles strolled out side by side, still talking. ‘Can I offer you a lift?’ Myles asked as he hailed one of the many cabs that had arrived touting for business. ‘I’m going to Kensington.’

Felix accepted and asked the cabbie to drop him off at the end of Old Bond Street. ‘I can walk from there,’ he said.

Before they parted they arranged to meet the following afternoon at Brooks’s club to continue their discussion.

Felix was in a mellow mood as he made his way to Bruton Street, where the family’s London house was situated. It had been a successful evening, he mused, everyone was enthusiastic and it looked as though they might soon sink the opposition. He had met a new friend, a man whose outlook on life and championing of the working classes matched his own and, besides all that, he had glimpsed one of the loveliest young ladies he had seen in a long time.

He wasn’t quite sure what it was that made her lovely. Was it her perfectly oval face, or her nose, which was neither too big nor too small, or her blue eyes, which were large and intelligent, or perhaps her trim figure with its small waist and rounded bosom? Was it all those things or something else entirely, the essence of the woman that shone through and set his pulses quickening? Judging by the way she reacted to her companion’s scolding she was a spirited chit, not one to be easily cowed. And then to see her again outside the Mansion House, dressed simply but elegantly, hemmed in by the hoi polloi, had made his day, especially when she responded to his salute with a brilliant smile. But who was she?

He ran up the steps and let himself into the house, chuckling at the memory. He didn’t know why, after so long, he suddenly found he could laugh again when thinking of a woman, but it felt good.

Esme woke next morning to find the sun shining and the birds singing. After a very wet winter, spring was at last on its way. She scrambled out of bed, washed in water from the ewer on the washstand, dressed in a light wool gown in a soft lime-green and hurried downstairs to greet the new day. She found Rowan sitting in the breakfast room munching toast and marmalade.

‘Good morning, my lord,’ she said, helping herself from the dishes on the sideboard: scrambled eggs, a rasher of bacon and a slice of toast.

‘Good morning, Esme, you are up betimes.’

‘Yes, it is too nice to lie abed. I was hoping I might ride today. Rosie said you could find me a mount.’

‘Croxon will hire something for you, but you are not under any circumstances to ride alone. It is not done in polite society and, besides, your parents would never forgive me if you took a tumble while in my care.’

‘I won’t take a tumble. I haven’t fallen off a horse since I was five years old and that wasn’t my fault.’

He smiled. Everyone smiled at Esme, even when scolding her. ‘Nevertheless I want your promise.’

‘You have it. Shall I go and ask Croxon now?’

‘No, I will do it. He is no doubt preparing the carriage. I shall want it today.’ He rose as Myles came into the room. ‘Morning, Moorcroft.’ The greeting was polite, certainly not jovial.

‘Good morning.’ In contrast, Myles was very cheerful. ‘Did I hear you talking about riding?’

‘Yes,’ Esme put in. ‘Rowan is going to ask Croxon to hire a mount for me.’

‘No need to trouble Croxon,’ Myles said, addressing Rowan. ‘I can save him the bother. I was going to Tattersalls to hire one for myself. I’ll do the same for Esme. We can take a ride together.’

‘My thanks,’ Rowan said. ‘I am somewhat busy today.’ And with that he left the room.

Esme laughed. ‘I don’t think he likes you, Myles.’

‘He doesn’t like what I stand for. I don’t think it’s personal.’ He helped himself to food and sat at the table opposite her.

‘Did you have a good evening?’ she asked.

‘Yes, it was a great success.’

‘Oh, that is why Rowan is so grumpy.’

‘Is he? I hadn’t noticed.’

‘We saw you going into the banquet, Rosie and I. We were standing on the pavement, watching everyone go in, and there you were. I thought you looked very elegant.’

He ignored the compliment. ‘How did you get there?’

‘In the carriage. At least as far as St Paul’s. We walked from there.’

‘I am surprised at Rosemary agreeing to it.’

‘Oh, I think she secretly wanted to go.’ She paused. ‘Myles, can I ask you something?’

‘Ask away.’

‘Is it very wrong to smile at a gentleman when he doffs his hat and bows to you?’

‘No, why should it be?’

‘Rosie said I should have ignored him. You see, we had not been introduced. He was a complete stranger.’

‘Oh, I see. Then your sister was probably right.’

‘But I’m sure he was a gentleman. We saw him going into the banquet and he was so handsome and elegant and his smile was catching. I could not help responding.’

‘I think,’ he said solemnly while trying to hide the twitching of his lips, ‘that you had better be guided by Rosemary.’

She sighed. ‘I don’t suppose I shall ever see him again, so it does not matter.’

‘Bear it in mind if you meet other men who smile at you.’

‘Oh, I am sure I shall not be tempted by other men.’

He looked sideways at her and decided not to comment. ‘What else did you do yesterday?’

‘Shopped for clothes. I think Rowan must be very rich because Rosemary did not once query the price of anything. It is all very extravagant and I feel dreadful.’

‘Because of the extravagance?’

‘Not only that, but because Lucy gave me all those lovely clothes and I shall not wear them.’ She brightened suddenly. ‘I will wear the riding habit though, if you will take me riding. You did mean it, didn’t you?’ There was a new forest-green habit, among the clothes being made for her, but that had not yet arrived.

‘Yes, but it will have to be this morning. I have an appointment this afternoon and tomorrow I must go home and leave you.’

Rosemary entered the room and bade them both good morning before helping herself to some breakfast and sitting at the table opposite Esme.

‘Myles is going to hire hacks and take me riding this morning,’ Esme told her. ‘Shall you come? We are going as soon as I have changed and Myles has arranged for the horses.’

Rosemary, who had been denied the use of the carriage that day, agreed that a ride would be just the thing to blow away the cobwebs and asked Myles to instruct a groom at the mews to saddle her horse, then both ladies finished their breakfast and went to change.

Esme came downstairs half an hour later in Lucy’s riding habit, a dark blue taffeta with military style frogging across the jacket. The matching skirt was plain and the hat was a blue tricorne, with the brim held up one side by a curling peacock feather. Rosemary joined her five minutes later and by that time Myles had returned, riding a huge mount and leading two others, one Rosemary’s own horse and another for Esme.

They mounted and set off, entering Hyde Park by a gate close to Knightsbridge barracks, and were soon riding down Rotten Row.

‘I suppose we shall be denied this pleasure when they start building the Exhibition hall,’ Rosemary said.

‘Possibly,’ Myles agreed. ‘The details have yet to be worked out.’

‘Well, I think it is too bad. It is so handy for me if I want to ride or come out in the carriage and it will all be spoiled. I am disappointed in you, Myles, really, I am.’

‘It is not my project, ma’am.’

‘You support it. I should have thought you would have had more family feeling.’

‘My feelings for the family have not changed. I support the idea of an exhibition because I think it will be good for the country and good for the working man.’

‘You will give him ideas above his station. There will be unrest and violence, fuelled by all the foreigners roaming about with nothing to do but cause trouble. Indeed, Rowan thinks…’

‘Oh, please, do not argue over it,’ Esme put in. ‘It is too nice a day to be at odds with each other.’ She looked about for a way of diverting them. ‘Oh, look, there’s that gentleman we saw yesterday.’

‘What gentleman?’ her sister asked.

‘That one.’ She lifted her crop to point him out. The young man, dressed in a single-breasted brown wool jacket and matching trousers, was busy as he had been the day before, sketching and making notes.

‘Oh, no. I do believe he does it on purpose.’

Felix looked up and, catching sight of them with Myles, stood watching them approach.

‘Do you know him?’ Myles asked.

‘No, we do not,’ Rosemary said sharply. ‘But he is insufferably impudent. He seems to think he can smile and doff his hat and that is as good as an introduction.’

‘Oh, in that case, let me do the honours.’ Myles drew rein beside Felix and the two ladies had perforce to stop beside him. ‘My lady, may I present Lord Felix Pendlebury? Pendlebury, Viscountess Trent. And this…’ He turned to Esme with a twinkle in his eye, which told her he had connected her question earlier that morning with Rosemary’s comment about smiling and doffing hats. ‘This is Lady Trent’s sister, Lady Esme Vernley.’

‘Ladies, your obedient.’ Felix bowed to each in turn.

Rosemary’s slight inclination of the head was the smallest she could manage without snubbing him, which she could not do, since he had now been properly introduced.

‘Oh, it is so nice to have a name for you, my lord,’ Esme said. ‘What are you drawing?’ She indicated his sketching pad.

‘It is an imaginary scene, my lady.’ He proffered her the pad, which she took.

‘And you have put us in it. Look, Rosemary, there’s you and there’s me.’ She held it out for her sister to see, but Rosemary hardly glanced at it.

‘If it is meant to be us, then I think it is an impertinence.’

‘None was meant, my lady,’ he said. ‘I was simply drawing what I thought the scene might look like when the Exhibition building is completed.’

‘I like it,’ Esme said, handing it back to him. Their hands touched as he took it from her and she found herself tingling all over from the shock of the contact. But it was far from an unpleasant feeling and she wondered if he felt it, too. He was looking up at her in such a strange way, his eyes moving over her face, as if he were studying her features, trying to memorise them. She found that that was what she was doing to him, storing up a picture of his lean face, high cheek bones, the well-defined brows, green eyes with their little flecks of brown, his smiling mouth, his proud chin held above a purple silk cravat. Was he teasing her? Did she mind? She did not.

‘I did not know you knew Myles,’ she said.

‘We met last night at the banquet and found we had much in common.’

‘He tells me it was a great success. Did you find it so?’ She ignored Rosie’s fidgeting beside her.

‘Indeed, I believe it was.’

‘Did you come to town especially for it?’

‘No, I have other business and visits I must make on behalf of my mother.’

‘Then perhaps we shall come across each other again. I am here to visit my sister for the summer—’

‘Esme!’ Rosemary’s tone was furious. ‘I am sure Lord Pendlebury does not wish to know that.’

‘On the contrary, my lady, I am delighted to hear it,’ he said. ‘Since my father’s death brought me back from the Continent two years ago, I have been kept busy at home in Birmingham and have sadly lost touch with the beau monde; I shall be glad to see someone I know.’

‘The horses are becoming restive,’ Rosemary said. ‘Come, Esme, it is time we resumed our ride.’

‘Then I bid you au revoir, ladies.’ As they moved off, he turned to Myles, who had watched the exchange with some amusement. ‘Until this afternoon, Moorcroft. Two o’clock we said, didn’t we?’

‘Yes, two o’clock,’ Myles answered and hurried to catch up with his sisters-in-law.

‘Esme, your behaviour has put me to the blush,’ Rosemary was saying. ‘You were openly flirting with the man and we have no idea who he is or anything about him. I am ashamed of you.’

‘Why, what did I do wrong?’

‘Telling him you were here for the summer and hoped to meet him again. I never heard anything so brazen. You would have been asking him to call on us if I had not stopped you.’

‘Oh, no, I wouldn’t do that,’ Esme said blithely. ‘It is your home, not mine; besides, if he came to the house he would only quarrel with Rowan, considering they are on opposing sides over the Exhibition.’

Myles was chuckling. Rosemary turned to him in exasperation. ‘It is all very well for you to laugh, Myles, you do not have the responsibility for this wretched sister of mine. I shan’t be able to let her out of my sight for an instant all summer long. She will talk to anyone. I cannot remember Lucy or I being allowed such licence.’

‘Times are changing,’ he said evenly. ‘Young ladies are allowed a little more freedom to say what they think nowadays.’

‘That is what worries me. Just who and what is Lord Pendlebury? I have never heard of him. He says he has returned from abroad. Where abroad?’

‘France, I believe. Or it might have been Venice. He was working abroad when his father died and he returned to take over the family estate near Birmingham.’

‘Working! Oh, now I see what you have in common, you both like to get your hands dirty.’

‘He doesn’t have dirty hands,’ Esme protested. ‘They are very clean and long-fingered, an artist’s hands. Is he an artist, Myles?’

‘I have no idea,’ he said. ‘But judging by that sketch he was doing he has a talent in that direction. I believe his business is in the manufacture of glass.’

‘Well, I think he is an artist,’ Esme said.

‘What you think of him is of no account,’ Rosemary said. ‘He is a manufacturer, a tradesman, and you will not think of him at all, do you hear?’

‘I hear.’ Esme told her, but she didn’t see how she could obey. Her thoughts could not be commanded like that. They wandered about in her head, jumping from one subject to another, and she could not say when a thought of the handsome Lord Pendlebury might pop into her mind, let alone tell it not to. She was thinking of him now, especially of his eyes. She had thought at first they were laughing; indeed, they had been full of amusement when Rosemary had been so haughty towards him, as if he understood and did not care, but when he spoke of being abroad, a shadow had passed across them, like a cloud on a summer’s day suddenly excluding the sun. There had been unhappiness in his life. She wondered what it was that made him suddenly sad and wished she could banish it and bring back the sunshine. Which was nonsense, of course.

Felix watched them go and then break into a canter. The ladies were both accomplished horsewomen and he could admire that, even in the stiff-backed Lady Trent. As for her sister…Esme, a pretty name for a pretty young lady. He flipped over the page of his sketching pad and began drawing her face, every line of which seemed to be etched into his memory.

He was being a fool, he knew that. He knew nothing about her. Was she, for instance, capable of breaking hearts? He rather fancied she was. He was beginning to envy the young men who might aspire to court her, but he did not envy them their broken hearts when she tired of them. He looked at what he had drawn and knew he had failed utterly to reproduce the joie de vivre that showed in her eyes, in her smiling mouth, in her trim figure, which seemed to buzz with barely controlled energy. Her whole demeanour seemed to say, ‘Here I am, ready for anything, put me to the test.’ He did not suppose that she, watched over and cosseted, had had a moment’s unhappiness in her whole life. She did not know what it felt like to be betrayed, to discover that what you had fondly believed was honest and wholesome was nothing of the sort. He hoped she never would.

He saw the trio returning back at a neat trot and hastily flipped back to his plan, pretending to concentrate on the lines of his proposed building. He looked up as the horses approached him and tipped his hat to the ladies. Rosemary dipped her head in brief acknowledgement, but Lady Esme, riding slightly behind her sister, lifted her crop and gave him a broad smile. It was almost conspiratorial. It was the memory of that smile he carried back to Bruton Street with him.

He was still thinking of it when he met Myles at Brooks’s later that day. The club was quiet at that time and the two men found a corner to enjoy a bottle of wine and talk, and though he would have liked to talk about Lady Esme Vernley, that was not the reason for the meeting and they settled down to discuss the Exhibition and how they could promote it. Knowing that it was meant to celebrate the work men and women did and the things they achieved, most of those who were referred to as the ‘operative classes’ were as enthusiastic as he was and were already giving their pennies and sixpences to the fund.

‘It won’t be enough,’ Felix said. ‘It’s the business owners we must aim at, people such as we are with money to spare. If we set a good example…’

‘I have done so already,’ Myles told him. ‘I do not doubt we shall manage it if we keep the momentum going. We have to. Already there are inquiries from abroad to display their wares.’ He chuckled. ‘My brother-in-law, Viscount Trent, is convinced that the capital will be overrun with foreigners, none of whom are honest or clean, and if they have nowhere to stay will be living in parks and doorways. Not only that, he is positive they will stir up unrest among our own workers.’

‘Accommodation will have to be provided for them and the troublemakers weeded out. The Duke of Wellington won’t hear of enlisting the help of foreign police. He is relying on our own police and the army to keep order. I know because he has asked for my help, on account of the fact that I came into contact with some of the revolutionaries when I was in Paris and was able to pass on intelligence to our government. I think he is worrying unduly, but I have said I will do what I can. We are to meet next week to discuss it.’ He paused. ‘I tell you this in confidence, of course.’

‘Of course. You will be staying in town, then?’

‘For the moment.’ He smiled suddenly. ‘I also have courtesy visits to make to my mother’s friends, which I had been looking on as an irksome duty, but if your delightful sister-in-law should happen to be present at any of their at-homes, it will change from a duty to a pleasure.’

‘She is a delight,’ Myles agreed. ‘And I hope nothing happens to spoil that.’

‘Why should it?’

‘Because she is an innocent and ripe for adventure and could easily be led into accepting flattery and flirtation as reality and falling head over heels in love when the attraction might well be that she is the daughter of an earl.’

‘Are you warning me to stay clear?’

‘I would not be so presumptuous. I hope you are old enough and wise enough to understand and perhaps look out for her.’

‘Does she not have a dragon of a sister to do that?’

Myles laughed. ‘Oh, she will contrive to slip her rein if the watchfulness becomes too unbearable.’

‘A scatterbrain, then.’

‘Far from it. She is the youngest daughter and her parents and sisters, Rosemary in particular, tend to treat her like a schoolgirl and a delicate one at that, but she is twenty in two months’ time and not nearly as fragile as she looks. She embraces everything with enthusiasm and is afraid of nothing, but underneath it all, I think she is capable of deep feeling.’

‘You know the family well, then?’

‘I am married to Esme’s other sister, Lucinda—have been for six years now. Esme is more like Lucy than Rosemary, a free spirit. I wish I could stay and keep an eye on her, but I am anxious to return to my wife and children. Henry, our three-year-old, had a nasty cold and Lucy would not leave him to accompany me and I am not comfortable in the Trent household without her. I am the upstart, a man who likes to earn his living, and though the Earl, their father, has come to accept me, Rosemary has never thought me quite good enough for her sister. Matters are made worse by my support for the Exhibition. Trent is implacably opposed.’

‘I see I shall have to avoid crossing swords with him. When do you leave town?’

‘Tomorrow morning.’

‘Then I shall bid you adieu now. No doubt we will meet frequently as the year advances.’

‘I certainly hope so.’ He paused, smiling. ‘Does your mother count Lady Mountjoy among her friends, my lord?’

Felix’s grin was one of understanding. ‘Do you know, I believe she does.’

They left the building together and parted on the street, Myles to return to Trent House, Felix to take a stroll about the town. It was necessary to become familiar with every street, every alleyway, every court, every hotbed of dissent if he were to discharge the duty the Duke of Wellington had set him.

It was at the end of that perambulation, when he was on his way home again, that he decided to call on Lady Mountjoy in Duke Street.

Her ladyship received him in her drawing room. She was thin as a rake, dressed in unrelieved black, even down to black mittens and a black lace handkerchief. He bowed and explained the purpose of his visit was to pay his respects to his mother’s old friend.

‘Fanny Pendlebury,’ she mused. ‘Haven’t seen or heard of her in years. What made her suddenly think of me?’

‘Unfortunately she seldom comes to town nowadays,’ he said. ‘But one day she was indulging in a little sentimental remembrance and spoke of the times when you both arrived in London for a come-out Season and what happy times they were. She wondered what had happened to you and how you did, and I undertook to make inquiries. I have lately returned from a protracted stay on the Continent and am rediscovering London.’

‘You will not find it much changed, except for all the new houses and railways stretching into the countryside. And I am, as you see me, widowed and living alone.’

‘My condolences, my lady.’

‘It happened many years ago and I have become used to pleasing myself. I have a great many friends. I go out and about and entertain. I am about to go out now, so I am afraid I cannot stay and entertain you, but come back another time. I am at home on Tuesday afternoon. Married, are you? Or affianced?’

He thought briefly of Juliette and nearly changed his mind about the whole idea. It was all very well for Myles Moorcroft to ask him to look out for Lady Esme, but Moorcroft did not know the story. Nor, for his pride’s sake, would he tell him, or anyone else, for that matter. ‘No, not married,’ he said. ‘Nor yet affianced.’

‘Good. How old are you?’

‘Twenty-seven, my lady.’

‘Old enough to settle down.’

‘That is what my mother tells me.’

‘Ah, now I see. She sent you to me, knowing I knew everyone in town and could help you find a wife.’ She did not give him the opportunity to confirm or deny this before going on. ‘Have no fear, I will introduce you to some nice young fillies. A handsome man like you should have no trouble. No trouble at all.’

He bowed and took his leave, wondering what he had let himself in for. If Lady Mountjoy wrote and told his mother of their conversation, she would die laughing. Or perhaps she would not; perhaps she would thank her ladyship for taking her recalcitrant son in hand.

Esme felt she had lost an ally when Myles went home. Rosemary was becoming impossible, lecturing her morning, noon and night and ordering Miss Bannister to keep a close watch on her. ‘See she does not speak to any strange men,’ she told the old governess when they went out without her. ‘Before we know where we are, she will be carried off and goodness knows what ills will befall her. Just because a man has a title does not mean he is a gentleman.’

‘You cannot mean Lord Pendlebury,’ Esme put in.

It was Sunday and they had just returned from morning service at St George’s Hanover Square, where, to Esme’s astonishment, Lord Pendlebury had been in the congregation. Rosemary had been outraged, convinced he was hounding them, but when Esme pointed out that he had a perfect right to attend whatever church he chose, just as they had done, considering St George’s was not their nearest place of worship, she was forced to agree. He had not approached them, which in one way had disappointed Esme, but in another she had been relieved. Even so, the sight of him tipping his shiny black top hat to them in the churchyard after the service had set her sister off again.

‘I speak as I find,’ Rosemary said, drawing off her gloves and removing her hat and handing them to her maid. ‘We do not know him, we do not know his background and yet you smile and flirt with him like some…some…Words fail me.’ Her fine blue wool coat followed the hat and gloves.

‘He cannot be so objectionable if he is known to Myles and Myles saw fit to present him,’ Esme protested, taking off her own outdoor things and giving them to Miss Bannister who had accompanied them to church.

‘Myles only met the man the evening before, so that does not signify.’

‘I think it is unkind of you to judge him badly on so little evidence. A man may smile, may he not?’

‘Not at a young unmarried lady to whom he has not been properly introduced.’

‘Myles did—’

‘We will hear no more of Lord Pendlebury, if you please. Peers who go into trade and manufacturing are betraying their birthright and not to be considered. I can and will introduce you to other young gentleman who will make far more suitable husbands.’

‘Rosie, I was not thinking of him as a husband.’

‘I am glad to hear that. You are in London to see and be seen in the hope of finding a husband, as you very well know. It is why I offered to sponsor your come-out and keep you by me for longer than a Season, which is too short when all is said and done. You are here ahead of the others and that will give you a flying start. You are, after all, the daughter of an earl.’

‘I sincerely hope no one considers that the prime reason for marrying me. If I thought that, I should most certainly turn him down.’

‘Of course it must not be the main reason, but it certainly makes a difference. Is that not so, Banny?’ she appealed to Miss Bannister, who nodded sagely. ‘There, you see! I am right. Now let us go into the drawing room and have a glass of something before luncheon is served. I want to tell you about the outings I have arranged for next week.’ She led the way into the drawing room, leaving Miss Bannister and the maid to toil up the second flight of stairs with the discarded outdoor clothes.

‘Now, let us see what is on offer,’ Rosemary said, picking up her engagement diary. ‘Nothing much happens on a Monday, so perhaps a little sight-seeing. There is St Paul’s or the Tower, though I find that a dismal place. We could go to the British Museum or the National Gallery. If you like, I am sure Rowan could arrange for us to see round the new Houses of Parliament.’

‘I should like to see it all.’

‘Not all at once, I hope.’

‘No, a little at a time whenever you have the time to spare.’

‘We shall see, but once you are out and the town fills up, we shall be inundated with invitations. You know how many we received when we went to Lady Aviemore’s. On Tuesday, for instance, we are expected at Lady Mountjoy’s at-home.’

‘Are we? I don’t remember her.’

‘She was the tall, thin lady in widow’s weeds. She is another like Lady Aviemore, a prominent figure in the beau monde, knows everyone. She can do you a great deal of good.’

‘How?’

‘By introducing you to other important people who will introduce you to more. Before you know it, you will be the asked out everywhere.’

‘Will you be doing any entertaining?’

‘Of course, invitations must be reciprocated. And I have it in mind to hold a ball for you later, when the Season gets under way.’

‘Really? Oh, Rosie, you are so kind. I shall like that,’ Esme said, thinking of Lord Pendlebury. She had managed to banish him from her thoughts for all of half an hour, but now he was back, filling her mind with an image of him in evening dress, taking her on to the floor to waltz. She would be in a beautiful ball gown with her hair done up in coils and jewels at her throat, and they would dance and dance in perfect harmony and smile at each other. But it was a futile image because he would never be invited.

What had made him so unacceptable? The fact that he smiled and tipped his hat to her? The fact that she had smiled back? Or was it that he was an acquaintance of Myles, and Rosemary had always looked down on Myles, for all he was Lord Moorcroft’s heir and one of the richest men in the kingdom, certainly richer than Papa. Or was it that he supported the Exhibition, which Rowan was determined to sink without trace? Or that he manufactured glass? What was wrong with making glass? Some of it was very beautiful.

‘If we cannot find you a suitable husband by the end of the Season, I shall have failed utterly,’ Rosemary said.

‘Suitable does not necessarily mean desirable,’ Esme said. ‘I should like to desire the man I marry.’

‘Esme!’

‘What is wrong with that? Did you not desire Rowan?’

‘That is none of your business.’ Her sister’s face had turned bright pink. ‘And not a subject for an unmarried lady.’

‘Surely it is too late after one is married to discover that one’s husband is not at all desirable? Suitable would not mean much then, would it?’

‘You don’t know what you are talking about.’

‘No, I don’t and I wish I did. What is it like to feel desire, Rosie? Is it the same as love? Shall I recognise it?’

‘Oh, you are giving me a headache. Go and ask Miss Bannister your foolish questions.’

‘Oh, do you think she might know the answers?’

‘I do not know, do I? I never asked her.’

Esme did not ask Miss Bannister because Rowan came in at that moment and a few minutes later luncheon was served.

Lady Mountjoy did not believe in seating her guests unless they were very frail, on the grounds that they should move about and mix with each other. It also meant they did not become too comfortable and overstay their welcome, but for some reason her at-homes were very popular. Esme found herself in a crowded drawing room, trying to keep firm hold of a cup of tea in case it was knocked out of her hand by the constant stream of people who came and went.

Nevertheless her ladyship made sure that every young lady who arrived with her mama or guardian was introduced to every other young lady and every young gentleman, whom they outnumbered by at least four to one. Esme found herself trying to memorise their names, while listening to Rosemary explaining who they were. ‘Toby, the son of old Lord Salford, very wealthy but something of a rake; James, Lady Bryson’s son and the apple of her eye, and Captain Merton. As an army officer he would never be at home, though his wife might travel with him; and there is Lord Bertram Wincombe, the Earl of Wincombe’s heir.’ She stopped speaking suddenly and gave a little gasp of annoyance. Esme, who had her back to the door, turned to see what had caused it. Lord Pendlebury, smart in a blue tailcoat and narrow matching trousers, was striding into the room and making for Lady Mountjoy.

His entrance had caused a sudden lull in the conversation and everyone turned as the handsome stranger bowed to his hostess. ‘Lady Mountjoy, your obedient,’ he said, taking the hand she offered.

‘You are welcome, young man. Let me make you known to everyone. Take my arm and we will perambulate.’

Esme giggled at her antiquated turn of phrase. She wouldn’t be a bit surprised if the lady did not think of herself as one of those old-fashioned matchmakers who did nothing but suit young men to young ladies and she wondered how successful she was. Everyone had stopped talking to watch the two proceed round the room and more than one mama nudged her daughter into showing some animation at being introduced to this handsome creature. He was charming, remembered their names, made some flattering comment to each and passed on. By the time he reached Esme, she had put her cup and saucer down to stop it rattling and was trying—and failing—to hide her laughter.

‘Lady Trent, may I present Lord Pendlebury,’ their hostess addressed Rosemary while looking severely at Esme.

‘We are already known to the gentleman,’ Rosemary said stiffly. ‘Good afternoon, your lordship.’

‘Lady Trent.’ He bowed. ‘Lady Esme.’

She looked up into his face and realised he was also trying to control his laughter. It made it all the more difficult to keep a straight face. ‘My lord, I did not expect to see you here.’

‘Lady Mountjoy is an old friend of my mother. I came to pay my respects. It is a small world, is it not? You said we might come across each other and you were right.’

‘Yes.’ She wished he had not reminded her of that comment. She still smarted from the dressing-down she had had from Rosemary over it. When she said it, she had had no idea the significance her sister would put on it, nor that he would remember it.

‘Are you enjoying your stay in town?’ He did not take his eyes from her face, though some part of him registered that she was wearing a pale blue gown that was plain apart from a few narrow tucks and satin ribbon trimming, but its very plainness spoke of quality cloth and superb workmanship. It made her stand out from all the other young ladies in their fussy lace and flounces.

‘Oh, very much. We went to the National Gallery to look at the pictures yesterday.’

‘What did you think of it?’

She was acutely aware of Rosemary standing beside her, unable to stop her speaking to him and thoroughly put out that he was undoubtedly acceptable in society when she had made up her mind that he was not. ‘Wonderful. It made me realise how poor my talent is.’

‘You like to paint?’

‘I draw a little and paint in water colours, but I am not very good at it. I envy people who can draw a few lines and produce a likeness without apparently trying very hard. It did not take you many strokes of your pencil to draw Rosemary and me the other day and we were instantly recognisable.’

‘You are kind, Lady Esme, but I cannot reproduce your animation on paper. I only wish I could.’

She smiled at the compliment, but did not comment, being more interested in finding out all she could about him. ‘You are not an artist, then?’

‘No, a designer. I like to design things to manufacture.’

‘What sort of things?’ The noise that came from Rosemary’s throat sounded very much like a snort. Both ignored it.

‘Anything that takes my fancy—household articles, inventions, but particularly objects made of glass.’

‘Drinking glasses, bottles, that kind of thing?’

‘Yes, dishes, vases, ornaments. I have a small manufactory in Birmingham.’

‘Is that where you live?’

‘Just outside it. The estate is called Larkhills. I live there with my mother.’

‘Is your mother in London with you?’

‘No, she rarely travels these days. I came down for the Mansion House banquet.’

‘But that is over and you are still here.’

He smiled, amused rather than annoyed, by her questions. ‘There are other attractions to keep me here.’

‘A lady?’

‘That would be telling.’

She heard Rosemary’s sharp intake of breath and knew she had breached another of her sister’s strict codes. ‘Oh, I should not have asked.’ She saw his lips twitch and nearly laughed aloud. Instead she posed another—to her, less contentious—question. ‘What were you doing in the park when we saw you sketching? You spoke of the Great Exhibition. Are you an architect, too?’

‘No, but I thought I might try my hand at designing something to house the exhibits.’

‘Has that not already been done?’

‘There are architects working on it, but nothing has been finally decided.’

‘Then I wish you luck with it. Has it been decided where the building is to be sited?’

‘I think it is fairly certain to be in the corner of Hyde Park where we encountered each other.’

‘And that was why you were on that particular spot?’

‘Yes. No doubt I shall need to go there again to check my measurements.’

It was a mundane conversation, apparently meaningless, but Esme knew there was more to it than that. They were communicating with their eyes, with the way they looked at each other, even in the way they stood and occasionally lifted a hand to emphasise a point. There was empathy in the very air around them. It was a wonderful feeling that left her slightly breathless.

She did not realise it also made her cheeks rosier than usual and her eyes bright as stars. Felix saw it and felt it. Here was a child of nature, someone so open, so unafraid, he was afraid for her. He was afraid of life treating her badly, of his own emotions, which at that moment were playing havoc with his peace of mind. He had no right to feel like this, no right to engage her feelings when he had sworn never again to let a woman into his heart. She was too young to understand what was happening, too young to be hurt. He did not want to hurt her.

He bowed. ‘I must not keep you from your friends. Good day, Lady Trent, good day, Lady Esme.’

He moved on and Esme found herself watching his back disappearing through the throng and wanting to cry. His departure had been so abrupt, as if she had said something to upset him. But she hadn’t, had she? She had complimented him on his drawing skill—that wouldn’t make him want to disappear, would it? Perhaps he found her conversation boring? Or had he realised Rosemary had not spoken a single civil word to him since her first formal greeting? Was he sensitive enough to feel her sister’s animosity? If she met him when Rosemary was not present…

She pulled herself together to listen to Rosemary making arrangements with Lady Bryson to attend a charity concert the following week, after which they took their leave and returned to the carriage which took them back to Trent House. The whole journey was one long scold, mainly directed at Lord Pendlebury and the way Esme had encouraged him.

‘I cannot understand what you can have against him,’ Esme said. ‘I think you made up your mind not to like him right from the first when he tipped his hat to me and smiled. It was just his way of being polite.’

‘Impudent, you mean, and then to draw pictures of us without even a by-your-leave.’

‘You surely did not mind that. It was only a sketch and very tasteful.’

‘I mind when my sister, for whom I am acting in loco parentis, makes a fool of herself,’ she said, as Esme followed her. ‘And of me.’

‘No one is making a fool of you, except yourself, Rosie. Lord Pendlebury is accepted in society. Why, you could see all the unmarried ladies falling over themselves to attract his attention.’

‘That does not mean you have to. Always remember you are the daughter of an earl and should behave with more dignity.’

This business of protocol and etiquette and what was and was not proper behaviour was full of pitfalls and she seemed to be falling into every one of them. The trouble was, she did not know they were there until she had tumbled into them. The result was that, as soon as they arrived home, she was given a book on etiquette and told to study it.