by Mary Nichols
He folded his paper and smiled up at his sister-in-law. ‘What do you think of that, Esme?’
‘I’m not sure.’
‘Perhaps being unsure is best. It does not do to tumble head over heels in love on too little acquaintance, as I am sure you have already learned. Let him take his time and you take yours.’
Wise advice, she conceded. Tomorrow she would be in Lord Gorridge’s company for two hours, at least, and she could discover a great deal in that time—notably, could he make her forget Felix?
He arrived promptly at two o’clock. Esme kept him waiting five minutes before she joined him in the drawing room. She could not make up her mind what to wear and Miss Bannister was no help at all, going about the room with her lips pursed as if she would like to say something, but dare not. Esme, too agitated herself to wonder what was the matter with her, chose a day dress in figured muslin in two shades of blue and a straw bonnet decorated with silk flowers. Picking up her parasol, because the day was oppressively hot, she went downstairs to meet her fate. At least, that’s what it felt like. She had promised Rosemary she would give Lord Gorridge a fair chance and so she would. It was not his fault she could not get Felix Pendlebury out of her head.
‘What a delightful picture!’ his lordship exclaimed as she entered the room. His suit was charcoal grey and his cravat black—as befitted his state of mourning—but his cheerful countenance was far from mournful. ‘I shall be the envy of everyone we meet.’
‘Lord Gorridge, good afternoon.’
‘Oh, I forgot myself. Good afternoon, Lady Esme.’ He bowed and from behind his back produced a small posy of flowers and presented them to her.
‘Thank you, my lord. They are very pretty.’
‘Pretty flowers for a pretty lady,’ he said, ignoring Miss Bannister who had entered the room behind her. ‘Shall we go? The carriage is outside.’
The landau was a grand affair, black as ebony and just as shiny with the Gorridge coat of arms emblazoned on the door. The hood was down and revealed seats with red velvet cushions. The horses, Esme noticed, were not up to the standard of the vehicle; they were thin and ill-groomed. ‘I wish I could have brought my own horses down,’ he told her as he handed her up. ‘These were the best to be had at short notice, but next time I shall insist on the best.’
‘Next time?’ she queried, putting up her parasol, though the sun had gone behind a cloud.
He sat beside her with Miss Bannister in the facing seat and ordered the coachman to proceed. ‘I hope this will be the first of many such outings, Lady Esme.’
‘Oh.’ She thought about this for a moment before asking, ‘Are you not expected to return to Linwood Park very soon?’
‘I think I can safely leave the estate in my manager’s hands for a week or two and my mother will see to the house, as she has always done and will continue to do until I take home a wife.’
‘Is that one of the reasons you have come to town, to find a wife?’
‘It is time I settled down.’ He laughed. ‘So my mother tells me and, of course, she is right.’
‘Then I wish you success in your quest.’
‘I am heartened by that, my lady.’
They turned into the gates of Hyde Park and on to the carriageway, where the press of vehicles was such that the horses, which had been maintaining a steady trot, were reduced to a walk. ‘I did not expect such a crush,’ he said. ‘London has become more congested since I was last here.’
‘When was that?’ Esme asked.
‘The day I left for the Continent. Six years ago now.’
‘Did you enjoy your time abroad, my lord?’
He turned sharply to look at her, but decided she was simply making conversation and he was going to have to answer many such questions now that he was back where he belonged. ‘Sometimes I did, sometimes I longed for home.’
‘You are home now, though in sad circumstances. I cannot conceive what it would be like to lose a father.’
‘Sad though it is, it is the nature of things and we must accept it. Life must go on and certainly it is up to me to continue running the estate so that I can pass it on to my son in the fullness of time.’
‘In the same way as Johnny will take over from Papa one day, but I pray not soon.’ She paused. ‘Rosemary said you spoke to Papa at the funeral.’
‘Yes, we had a little conversation. He was always my father’s friend. We talked of him and my regret that I had no opportunity to see my father before he died.’ It was said with every evidence of deep sorrow.
‘Do you blame Papa for that?’
‘No,’ he said evenly. ‘He acted according to his lights. I understood that. Though the whole affair was no more than a misunderstanding, I could not bear the embarrassment, not for myself but for my parents, and so I agreed to live abroad for a time. Plans were afoot for me to come back when I received the dreadful news that my father had passed away.’
‘I am sorry for that, my lord.’
‘Thank you. I sincerely hope, Lady Esme, you will not hold what happened against me. Your sister assures me you will not.’
‘I am not sure I understand what did happen, but if you did something that was misconstrued and for which you are truly sorry, then of course I will not hold it against you.’
‘That is all I ask.’ He sounded relieved. ‘Now, tell me about yourself. Are you enjoying your Season?’
‘Yes, Rosemary has been very good to me and has made sure I have made many new friends.’
‘Is there one in particular? A gentleman who has caught your eye, perhaps?’
‘No,’ she lied firmly.
‘I am glad.’
‘Glad, my lord?’
‘Oh, please do not misunderstand me. I only meant I was glad you might be free to allow me to escort you occasionally. It will show that the rift between our two families has been healed.’
‘Is that all?’
‘Oh, dear, I am not expressing myself very well, am I?’ His smile was full of apology. ‘Of course that is not all, it is not even a tenth part of it. I am a little nervous.’
‘Whatever have you to be nervous about?’
‘Being with you, wanting to get to know you better, wanting your good opinion of me, which is very important to me on a personal level. It was foolish to use the Earl’s clemency as a way to achieve that. I should know you are wise enough to make up your own mind about people.’
‘I hope I am.’ She ignored the sound Banny made. It was almost a snort.
‘What other things have you been doing?’
‘Oh, the usual parties and routs, picnics, walks, riding…’
‘I remember the Luffenham ladies were all good horsewomen. I like to ride myself. Perhaps one day we could ride together.’
‘I should like that,’ she said, remembering Rosemary’s instructions to encourage him. ‘But riding in the park is not like hunting, I fear you will be disappointed.’
‘With you at my side, how could I be?’
Was this mindless sort of conversation the way it was done? she asked herself. Was this how one chose a partner for life? It was so cold, stiff with politeness and fulsome compliments apparently learned by rote, while they sat side by side not even looking at each other. She needed to see into his eyes. You could tell a great deal from a person’s eyes. She turned slightly so that she was half facing him. ‘What do you think about the Great Exhibition?’ she asked him.
‘What do I think of it?’ He sounded puzzled by the unexpected change in direction.
‘Yes, do you think it is a good thing or a bad thing?’
‘I cannot say. Why did you ask?’
‘There has been so much controversy over it, those for and against. Some say it will encourage undesirable elements from abroad to come here and cause trouble.’
‘Is that so?’
‘Yes, you have lately been abroad, have you heard anything of it?’
If he thought there was anything behind her question, he did no
t show it. ‘Nothing of any consequence, my lady. I had heard of the Exhibition, who could not, when it is in all the Continental newspapers and people debating what best to exhibit? But as for trouble…No, I am sure such a thing could not happen in England.’
‘My brother-in-law, Viscount Trent, would be very pleased to hear you say that. Trent House is so very near the site.’
‘I can understand his concern. It is a huge project and bound to cause some disruption to the normal life of the capital when they start building. Do you know when that will be?’
‘No. I am not sure if the architect has even been chosen yet. I know those who are against it have not given up trying to stop it.’
‘Do you think they will?’
‘I don’t know. Lord Trent hopes they will. There will be more to it than putting up the building, won’t there? The inside will have to be laid out and arranged ready for the thousands of exhibits that are expected.’ She paused as a picture of Felix flashed into her head, Felix smilingly telling her he was going to exhibit something in glass, which he would show to her first. How could a man talk of doing that when he planned to disrupt the whole thing? Perhaps Lord Gorridge was right and there was nothing in these rumours, but why had he said that when he had told Rosemary the very opposite? Oh, now she was more confused than ever. ‘There will be wagons and carts coming and going all the time and when it is over, the whole thing has to be dismantled. Rowan says the normal life of the city will be ruined for years.’
‘Then I am not surprised he is against it.’
‘Yes, but on the other hand, it will be a wonderful way of showing the world what we can do, won’t it?’
‘Yes, indeed.’
She heard Miss Bannister, who was facing backwards, give a little gasp as a rider drew up level with them. When he did not attempt to overtake them, Esme swivelled round in her seat, to find Lord Pendlebury riding alongside. He smiled and swept off his hat. ‘Good afternoon, my lady. Edward.’
If Esme thought she had her heart under control, she was wrong. It began beating twenty to the dozen and so loudly she felt sure everyone else could hear it. And it made breathing difficult, let alone speaking. Her ‘Good afternoon, my lord’ was a squeak.
‘What are you doing here?’ Edward demanded of him.
‘I am out riding. It is something I like to do when I have the time.’ He hoped his cheerfulness did not sound forced.
‘Alone, Felix? Where is Ma’amselle Lefavre?’
‘Do you know, I haven’t the faintest idea.’
‘I should go and find her, if I were you, before Victor carries her off.’
‘Oh, I do not think he will do that,’ he said easily. ‘It is too hot for such strenuous exercise, and if Victor deplores anything it is exercise.’
‘Oh, you will have your little joke.’ He turned to Esme. ‘Even when we were boys he always liked to score off me, as if we were bitter rivals when, of course, we were, and still are, the best of friends.’
Esme permitted herself a smile. From being deadly boring, the afternoon had suddenly become intriguing. The two men appeared to be friendly, but she detected undercurrents of animosity and the business of scoring off each other was more than a joke. ‘I am glad you are friends,’ she said, looking from one to the other. Felix was smiling, but his expressive eyes were glittering like steel and Edward was looking decidedly put out. Here was no evidence of friendship, but deadly enmity. If Lord Gorridge was right about Felix, then it was no wonder he was annoyed with the effrontery of his cousin. On the other hand, if Felix knew what was being said about him and it wasn’t true, he had every right to be angry…‘Then you will look out for each other,’ she finished lamely.
‘Oh, most definitely,’ Edward said. ‘Lord Pendlebury bears watching.’
‘Just what do you mean by that, Cousin?’ Felix demanded.
‘Why, nothing,’ he said. ‘Except that a certain French-woman has sworn vengeance on anyone who takes you from her.’ He turned to Esme. ‘If his eyes should stray…’ He shrugged his shoulders.
Felix laughed. ‘Take no notice of him, my lady. If anyone needs watching—’
‘Oh, do stop it, both of you,’ she said. ‘If you cannot leave off taunting each other, then I shall insist on being taken home.’
‘There! See what you have done,’ Edward said, addressing Felix. ‘Go away and let us continue our ride in peace.’
‘Lady Esme?’ Felix looked directly at her, making her blush to the roots of her hair. It was impossible to be indifferent to him, impossible to tell herself that her brief infatuation for him was over and had never meant anything to either of them, impossible to deny the trembling in her body. You could not turn out love, like snuffing out a candle. She desired him. She desired to be held in his arms, to be kissed again until she was breathless. While he rode beside them, she could not think of anything else and her stomach churned like a whirlpool. She did not want to send him away, but she could not let him stay. His presence was too disturbing and she was afraid Lord Gorridge would detect it. Perhaps he already had and that was why he was baiting Felix.
‘I think you should ride on, my lord,’ she said, not daring to look into his face.
‘Very well, my lady. Your wish is my command. Good day to you. Good day, Edward.’ His moved slightly forward until he was abreast of Miss Bannister, then leaned over so that his face was very close to hers. ‘Whatever you do,’ he whispered, ‘stay awake.’
She went very pink, but did not answer and he rode away. Esme watched his stiff back as he went farther and farther from her. He had known she would be in the park that afternoon and she did not doubt he had come on purpose to waylay them and the altercation with his cousin had been a strange one, as if they were talking in code. She wished she could decipher it.
‘He was always a strange boy,’ Edward said. ‘Full of fancies. A dreamer. Sometimes I am not sure if he is able to tell fact from fiction.’
‘We cannot all be doers, my lord. People of imagination have been known to achieve great things.’
‘Yes.’ He looked directly at Miss Bannister. ‘What did he say to you, ma’am?’
The old lady looked flustered. ‘I am afraid I did not hear him very clearly. I am a little hard of hearing.’
‘It was nonsense, I have no doubt. Now, let us forget about him and enjoy the rest of our ride, then we will go and have tea at Clarendon’s before I take you home.’
Felix rode on to the end of the carriageway, as sure as he could be that Esme was watching him, knowing also that she was bound to have realised he had come to the park on purpose to speak to her. He should have known it would not work, not with Edward listening to every word and interrupting with a mention of Juliette. Esme herself had had very little to say. It was more than he dare hope that she had taken to heart his warning to beware of wolves in sheep’s clothing. He smiled suddenly, thinking of Miss Bannister’s pink face; she had known what he meant.
If only he could uncover the plot—if there was a plot—he would be able to throw off all this secrecy and tell Esme the truth. This struggle between duty and desire was tearing him apart.
He was so absorbed he hardly noticed where he was going until he came to the boundary with Kensington Gardens and turned back. The road was as busy as ever, but there was no sign of the Gorridge carriage and the sky had suddenly become dark and menacing, presaging a storm. He put his horse over the rails and galloped across the grass to the Park Lane gate, trying to beat the rain. But everyone else had the same idea. Horses that had been ambling along were suddenly whipped into life, carriage hoods were hastily put up, umbrellas brought out, coat collars turned up. And the rain came in torrents. He was soaked before he reached his front door.
Esme, watching the storm through the front window of the Clarendon Hotel, wondered at the force of it. It was almost as dark as night, the rumble of thunder and sheet lightning were almost instantaneous and followed by torrential rain. Already the road was a quagmire of mud.
Pedestrians were trying to avoid being splashed by the vehicles that hastened along it, rain dripping off the drivers’ hats. Every doorway along the street sheltered someone. The poor crossing sweepers gave up in despair.
‘We were only just in time,’ she said, feeling sorry for the Gorridge coachman, who was endeavouring to put up the hood of the carriage and becoming soaked in the process. The horses looked even more bedraggled than they had before.
‘Yes. It is just as well you sent Pendlebury on his way, or we should have been further delayed and caught out in it,’ Edward said, as tea and cakes were placed on the table in front of them. ‘Will you do the honours?’
She picked up the pot, pouring tea automatically, her mind back in the park. Did Felix think that telling him to go had been an act of dismissal? Had she hurt his feelings? She felt like running out in the rain and finding him to tell him she had not meant it. ‘I wonder if he got wet.’
‘Who?
‘Lord Pendlebury.’
‘Depends where he was going. I noticed a cake stall near the corner of the park—perhaps he took shelter there.’
‘Old Mrs Hicks’s place,’ she said. ‘It is only a shack and meant for people to buy fruit and cakes to take out on to the grass. I doubt many could squeeze into it.’
He put milk in his tea and stirred it vigorously as if he would like to stir Felix out of his life, certainly out of hers. ‘Do not trouble yourself about him. He has been used to worse conditions than this. This is only a shower compared to the monsoons they have in India, where he was born.’
‘Was he? I didn’t know that.’
‘There is a lot you do not know about him, my lady, but let us not talk of him. I can think of more interesting subjects for our discourse. When will you come riding with me? We could perhaps go out to Richmond and take a picnic.’
‘I must ask my sister,’ she answered without thinking. Her mind was elsewhere, hoping Felix would not take cold, wondering about his life in India, longing to see him again. It was no good; she could not think of him as a villain whatever Rosemary or anyone else said.