by Mary Nichols
‘Oh, what can you know of men? You are only just out of the schoolroom, easily gulled. Besides, it is not only Lord Gorridge who says it. Rowan warned us ages ago. Why do you think he was so angry when you went off on your own to meet the man?’
Esme assumed she was talking about that disastrous visit to the theatre because, as far as she knew, her brother-in-law knew nothing of the balloon flight. ‘You make it sound like an assignation and it was nothing of the sort.’
‘Assignation or not, Lord Gorridge is bound to have heard about it from Mr Ashbury. You should be sincerely thankful that he does not appear to hold it against you.’
They were almost level with object of their discourse and already Esme was feeling the telltale frisson of excitement, but now she was wondering if it might be fear and not desire after all: fear of the unknown, fear of being drawn into a whirlpool of intrigue. ‘Are you going to cut him?’ she queried in an undertone.
‘No, not while he is with the Duke.’ She approached the Duke, smiling. ‘My lord Duke, good morning.’
‘Lady Trent, your obedient.’ His Grace had always appreciated good-looking ladies, and he swept off his hat and bowed to her. ‘Are you acquainted with Lord Pendlebury?’ He indicated his companion, as if he intended to present him.
‘Yes, indeed,’ she said quickly, and favoured Felix with a very tiny inclination of her head before returning her attention to the Duke. ‘May I present my sister, Lady Esme Vernley.’
Esme bent her knee. ‘My lord Duke.’
He looked her up and down appreciatively. ‘Enjoying a Season, are you?’
‘Yes, your Grace.’
‘Affianced yet?’
‘No, your Grace.’ She risked a glance at Felix and found him studying her face. He seemed to spend most of his time doing that whenever they met. Did it mean her thoughts and feelings and doubts were emblazoned there? Oh, she hoped not. She looked away quickly.
‘We are holding a ball for my sister’s coming-out on the sixteenth of July,’ Rosemary put in. ‘We would be honoured if you would attend.’
He chuckled. ‘I might at that. Don’t dance myself these days, but like to watch young people enjoying themselves, eh, Pendlebury?’
Felix smiled. The Duke undoubtedly thought he would be one of the guests, but unless something happened to change Lady Trent’s opinion of him, he doubted if he would be invited. Esme would not look at him and he wondered why. It was not shyness—that young lady did not know the meaning of the word—more like evasiveness, a reluctance to meet his eye. Had her sister persuaded her against him? Or Edward. What had Edward been saying? Was she so easily swayed?
‘It is much pleasanter walking out since the rain, don’t you think?’ the Duke went on, addressing Esme.
‘Yes, your Grace.’
‘Ride, do you?’
‘Yes, your Grace. We come to the Park frequently, but we have been wondering whether that will be curtailed when the building begins.’
‘They won’t touch Rotten Row, m’dear, but as soon as they have decided on the form the building will take, there will be heavy wagons coming and going with construction materials. When that happens, they will put a fence all round the site and that might cause a little disturbance.’
‘You could ride in Green Park,’ Felix said. ‘Mornings are best.’
‘Yes, perhaps we will do that,’ Esme said. Was that code for an assignation? She wanted to believe it was, but could not be sure. She was not sure of anything these days. Not sure of what to believe, not sure of her own feelings, not sure if she dared meet him. If what Lord Gorridge said was true, she should have nothing to do with him. But was it true?
It was Rosemary’s turn to interrupt. ‘Come, Esme,’ she said. ‘We must not keep the Duke and Lord Pendlebury.’
The two ladies took their leave and went on their way. Rosemary chatted about the encounter, saying that if the famous Duke came to her ball, it was bound to be a runaway success.
‘Are you sure Rowan will be happy about it?’ Esme asked. ‘The Duke has always been a strong advocate of the Exhibition.’
‘No, he is simply a loyal subject of the Queen and if her Majesty sees fit to indulge her Consort’s whims, he goes along with it.’
‘That’s Rowan’s opinion, is it?’
‘I have no doubt he got it from someone close to the Duke.’
‘Lord Pendlebury and the Duke seem to deal well together.’
‘I believe the Duke was a friend of Pendlebury’s father when they were both serving in India.’
‘I wonder what his Grace makes of the rumours about Lord Pendlebury.’
‘How should I know? He might not have heard them. After all, the story is not common knowledge and Lord Gorridge has sworn us to secrecy.’
‘How could he not know? If Rowan does, then I’ll wager the Duke does, and if that is so, he chooses not to pay it any heed…’
‘Esme, he is a very old man. It would be easy to pull the wool over his eyes.’
Esme did not believe that. She was becoming more and more convinced there was more to it than appeared on the surface. The Duke would not consort with a traitor. She had to find out the truth. Felix had suggested riding in Green Park and he had been speaking to her when he said it. The message was there if she chose to read it. He would meet her in Green Park. Dare she go? The problem was how to manage it.
And then fate played a hand.
She came downstairs dressed for riding two mornings later to find Rosemary looking decidedly pale and in no condition to go out, much less mount a horse. Esme was instantly concerned and set aside her own wishes to drop to her knees beside the chaise longue on which her sister was reclining. ‘Rosie, what has happened? Are you ill?’
‘No, not ill, but I am afraid riding is out of the question. If you want to go, then I am sure a message to Lord Gorridge will bring him here at once to escort you and bring you safe home.’
A fleeting suspicion crossed Esme’s mind that perhaps Rosie’s illness was a ruse to send her off with the Viscount, and he was the last person she wanted with her if she contrived to come across Felix. ‘I would not dream of going if you are not well. I can wait until you feel more the thing.’
Rosemary made an effort to laugh. ‘Then you will have several months to wait.’
‘Several months!’ Then suddenly she understood. ‘Oh, Rosie, you are going to have another child. Are you pleased?’
‘Of course I am. I had a suspicion, and when I kept being sick in the morning, Rowan insisted on sending for Dr Peters…’
‘Oh, so that was the gentleman who called yesterday afternoon.’
‘Yes. He confirmed it. No more riding, I am afraid.’
‘We could go for a walk instead.’ It was not at all what she wanted; she was anxious to ride in Green Park. She had been hoping to go the day before, trusting to providence to find a way of speaking to him without Rosemary interrupting, but her sister had said she was expecting a visitor and the ride had been postponed, so she never knew if Felix had gone or not, nor if he would go again. The longer she left it, the less likelihood there was that he would keep going. He would probably assume she had not understood his hint or, having understood it, meant to ignore it.
‘No, I do not feel up to anything this morning. But you are dressed for riding. You may go. Ask Croxon to instruct one of the grooms to follow for appearances’ sake.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes, but, Esme, do not do anything foolish, will you?’
‘Foolish, Rosie?’ Surely her sister had not understood the message? No, she decided, or she would not be suggesting she should go.
‘Yes. Galloping, or riding at fences. The park is not a hunting field.’
‘I know that, Rosie. I’ll have a sedate walk and perhaps a little canter if there are not too many people about.’
‘Off you go, then.’
She was dancing with impatience while Croxon saddled the mare that had been hired for her and arrang
ed for his young son to escort her. ‘I can’t spare anyone else,’ he said. ‘His lordship hev ordered the carriage for this afternoon and it hev to be cleaned and polished and one of the horses hev to be took to be shod. Albert will see you come to no harm.’
‘I am sure he will.’
The saddle was on, the young Albert saddled a cob for himself and she was on her way at last. She rode sedately, but inside she was in a fever of impatience. He would be there, wouldn’t he? He would not give up after just one day, would he? Along Kensington Road and Knightsbridge to Hyde Park Corner she went, carefully picking her way through the traffic. Vehicles of all kinds, carriages and carts, with one horse, with two horses, with four, mixed with riders and pedestrians, hawkers, beggars and soldiers coming to and from the barracks. She passed Apsley House, wondering if the Duke of Wellington were inside; that led to wondering what he and Felix had said to each other. She did not go up Piccadilly, but turned into Green Park with Albert doggedly behind her.
There were several riders about, ladies with gentlemen escorts, gentlemen in twos and threes, walkers, children running about on the grass, dogs sniffing for rabbits and cows munching the grass. She rode on, keeping to the paths. There was no sign of Felix. Her spirits sank; she had missed him. She reined in and walked her horse forward, looking about her. No Lord Pendlebury. No Felix. The path ahead of her was busy, but not so crowded that she could not scan every rider—he was not there.
Her mare was becoming impatient with their slow pace and snorted and pranced, anxious to be off. She leaned forward and patted her neck. ‘He is not here,’ she whispered, sick with disappointment. Turning off the path, she put her mount into a canter across the grass. The move took her escort by surprise and he was slow to follow. Reaching a group of trees, she slipped from the saddle, threw her reins over a bush and walked on. What made her do it, she did not know. It was cool among the trees and she went deeper into their shade, taking off her hat and shaking out her hair. Almost crying with frustration and longing, she flung herself down by a tree and leaned back against its trunk, squeezing her eyes tight shut to stop the tears falling.
She had not been there long when she heard a footfall and assumed it was Albert. But if it was, he had no right to sit beside her. Her eyes flew open. ‘Oh. It’s you.’
‘Whom did you expect?’
Felix was smiling at her, as if the sight of her trying to master her tears amused him. It stiffened her spine at the same time as it set her stomach churning. It was impossible to be indifferent to him. And now she realised she had not rehearsed in her mind what she was going to say to him, the questions she meant to ask. ‘Albert.’
‘You mean that slow-witted youth who has been following you like a faithful hound?’
‘That’s what he’s paid to do.’
‘And now I have paid him not to do it. He is minding all three horses and that will keep him occupied for a little while.’
‘You had no right.’
‘How else was I to have a private conversation with you?’
‘Why do you want a private conversation with me?’
‘Oh, Esme, you sweet innocent, why do you think?’
‘If you are going to kiss me again—’ She stopped, feeling her face growing hot. It was presumptuous of her to suppose that he had given that kiss a second’s thought since it happened.
He laughed. ‘There is that, of course, but first we must talk.’
‘What about?’
‘Everything. All that stands between us—’
‘Like Ma’amselle Lefavre,’ she interrupted before he could explain.
‘Among other things.’
‘You still love her…’
‘No, I do not. I don’t think I ever did.’
‘Then why are you seen out and about with her? I have been told you are engaged to marry her.’
‘Who told you that?’
‘My sister. And Viscount Gorridge confirmed it.’
‘I see.’ It was not only her sister spreading the poison, it was his cousin. It was all part of the man’s plan to discredit him and have Esme for himself. He told himself, untruthfully, that he could have borne it if there had been a genuine attachment there, but Edward was only concerned with laying his hands on his legacy. ‘Then they were both misinformed.’
‘You are not betrothed to her?’
‘Certainly not.’
‘Why don’t you deny it then? Why let everyone think you are?’
‘There is a very good reason for it, which I cannot tell you.’
‘I am sure I do not want to know,’ she said tartly. His words seemed to confirm what Lord Gorridge had told her and yet she still did not want to believe it. ‘It is none of my business, except…’
‘Except what?’
She took a deep breath. ‘Except that I thought we were friends…’
‘And friends trust each other?’ he finished for her.
‘Yes.’
‘We are friends. One day I hope more than friends, so can you not trust me?’
Her heart was pounding. He was talking in riddles and she could not decipher what lay behind them. More than friends, he had said. That implied…Oh, she wished he would say straight out what he meant. ‘Why all the secrecy? Trust works both ways, you know. If you cannot tell me why I have to trust you, then you do not trust me.’
‘I would trust you with my life, but it is not my life I am thinking of.’
‘Riddles! Riddles! Riddles!’ she exclaimed in exasperation. ‘You said we had to talk, but we haven’t been talking, or if we have it makes no sense to me. Are you going to be more open or am I going to return to my horse and ride home?’ She started to rise, but he seized her arm and pulled her back.
‘Esme, stay. Please don’t leave in anger.’ He smiled suddenly. ‘Perhaps I was wrong to say we should talk first. Perhaps actions speak louder than words.’ He turned and cupped her face in his hands and gently put his lips to hers.
They were all there, the sensations she had felt before: the shivering, the urgent need to cling to him, to push herself as close to him as she could, to let him surround her, as if her body were melting into his, his into hers. She had no will of her own, it was sublimated to his. He took his hands from her face and put one at the back of her neck and drew her body closer with the other, as his kiss deepened. Everything about them faded, trees, grass, horses snuffling, a dog barking, a bird singing somewhere above them. She was only half aware of them through a haze of joyous passion.
It was when she moaned that he suddenly realised what he was doing and that what had been intended as a tender kiss had become much more than that and it was only a matter of seconds before he lost all control. He released her, breathing hard. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘Sorry?’ She did not understand him. ‘Is that all you can say?’
‘What do you want me to say? Do you want me to humble myself and tell you I did not mean it, that I was tempted, carried away by your beauty, by your compliance, that I will never do such a thing again?’
‘Is that the truth of it?’ She sat up, trying to straighten her riding jacket, which had somehow come undone at her throat.
‘Of course it is, except….’
‘You were taking advantage of my trusting nature.’
‘Ah, we are back to that.’
‘Yes.’
‘Esme, there is nothing I can tell you. I am not at liberty—’
‘Then what has this meeting been about, if not to indulge your passions? Talk, you said.’
‘I meant talk about us.’ He paused and took her hand and noticed it was trembling. He had frightened the wits out of her, but she was proud and defiant. Esme Vernley had courage. ‘Esme, I admit I was indulging myself in a way, but I was also trying to convince you of how much I love you.’
‘You do?’
‘Don’t sound so surprised. You must have guessed.’
‘Should I have done?’
‘Perhaps not. But I am telli
ng you now. You are my life, the only woman I have ever loved, the only one I will ever love. Without you, life would be bleak indeed. The sun would vanish, the grass would die, the flowers wither.’ He rubbed his thumb gently over the back of her hand. ‘I hoped, still hope and pray, that you feel something for me and that soon I shall be able to tell the world that we are to marry. Say yes, please.’
Now she was in a quandary of momentous proportions. She wanted to fling herself at him and say, ‘Yes, yes, yes.’ But how could she with so many questions unanswered?
‘My lord…’
‘Felix, please. We are alone.’
‘We should not be alone. We should not be sitting here like this. It is highly improper.’ Why was she prevaricating, talking about impropriety instead of answering the most important question she would ever be asked? Young she was, but she was not a simpering schoolgirl and she had already shown him she did not care about convention. She could see his impatience in his eyes.
‘Be damned to that. You came here of your own free will, knowing I would come looking for you…’
‘I did not.’
‘Oh, come, Esme, be honest.’
‘I came because—’ She stopped suddenly, remembering she had promised she would tell no one, especially not Felix, about the story Lord Gorridge had told her and Rosemary. She had been hoping somehow to learn the truth without divulging what she knew.
‘Because?’ he prompted.
‘Because you said it was a good place to ride.’ It was a whisper.
‘Ah, you understood after all. I wondered if you had when you did not appear yesterday.’
‘You were here yesterday?’
‘Of course. And would be here tomorrow and every day thereafter while I thought there was a chance you would come.’
‘I nearly did not. It is not easy for an unmarried lady to ride alone.’
‘I know and just now you have a very attentive escort.’
‘Albert?’
He laughed. ‘No, not Albert. I was referring to Viscount Gorridge.’
‘Oh. He is not with me today.’
‘Thank goodness for that! How did you manage to throw him off?’