A Bride for Lord Esher

by P J Perryman

  The moment his Lordship entered the room, the man turned and bowed respectfully. Tom was instantly struck by the cherubic beauty of the young face before him. The candidate’s eyes were a soft blue, at once both gentle and inviting. He had a round face, with flawless skin, and if he wasn’t mistaken the man was blushing. Before he even opened his rose-bud lips Tom had hired him in his heart, and the interview became an instant formality.

  “Your Lordship, may I present to you Mr. Zachariah Moore. He has worked as a second footman to Lord Ashworth but is eager for promotion to valet. I told him you were only interested in men with proven experience.”

  Tom could not take his eyes off the young man in front of him. “All men need to start somewhere. I believe we can overlook the lack of experience if that is the only impediment.”

  “Having only had the one situation before this, he comes to us with only one reference. I told him your Lordship requires two.”

  “One reference from Lord Ashworth’s household is as good as two elsewhere.”

  The Butler lowered his eyes and said nothing more. Tom walked a full circle around the young man. “Are you married?” he asked.

  Two gentle eyes looked up for a brief second to answer, but were quickly lowered again. “No, my Lord.”

  “Any family, children perhaps?”

  “A mother at the coast sir, but she’s all I have. There are no children.”

  “Very good. Once you’ve been given your instructions come to me immediately. The sooner you begin your training the better.” Tom turned to address the butler. “Have him made ready at once. I’ll leave the particulars to you, but the sooner he settles in the happier I will be.”

  “Very good, my Lord.”

  With one last look over the young man’s figure, Lord Warren left the servant’s quarters and retired to the main part of the house. He found his wife in the parlor where she was embroidering on a large canvass. She did not smile as he entered. He knew Lady Caroline Warren found his attentions distasteful and kept herself clear of her husband’s notice as much as possible. A servant stood quietly in the corner, ready to do her mistress’s bidding.

  “Leave us,” Tom said to the maid.

  The girl nodded and left discretely. Lady Warren sighed, but did not look up from her needlework. Tom strolled behind her and looked over at her handiwork. “You’re very adept at that,” he remarked.

  “Thank you, I’ve been sewing since I was a little girl. I find it relaxes me.”

  Lady Warren continued to sew, which vexed Tom. He hated to be ignored. “I have just engaged a new valet. He seems a pleasant enough boy. I think he will do very well.”

  “No doubt he is young and handsome.”

  “Yes, yes he is.” Tom felt his blood stir as he recalled the young man downstairs. Those ruby lips popped once more to his mind, and he grew hard imagining how he would look in his new livery. He put his hand on his wife’s shoulder and kissed her neck. Lady Warren, absorbed in her task, brushed him away.

  Lady Warren did not see the shadow pass over her husband’s face. He circled her once more, like a lion assessing a cornered doe as he pondered his point of attack. Ignorant of his mood, or perhaps feigning to be so, Lady Warren remained focused on her work, her fingers pinning the canvas and pulling the thread in a rhythmic dance. All at once, Tom kicked over the tapestry frame, and the needle and thread were jerked out of her Ladyship’s hands and were sent flying across the room. Startled, she turned, but just in time for Tom to grab her chin and force her down to her knees. Winded by the suddenness of the attack, Lady Warren remained on the floor on her hands and knees, her wig dislodged and fallen to the rug beneath her. Her husband kicked it aside, and then swooped down behind his wife and pressed his entire body weight on top of her.

  Lady Warren gasped. “What are you doing,” she cried.

  “I will teach you the price of ignoring me,” he hissed.

  He watched her eyes widen. “Please, my Lord, let me turn and pleasure you!”

  He held her in place. “But I would have you this way. You like it when I am rough, admit it.”

  “God help me, I do,” she answered.

  Without preamble or tenderness he thrust himself into Lady Warren’s backside. He heard her yelp. She always did. With thoughts of his new valet in his mind, he was more affectionate than he usually was.

  His climax was quick and powerful, and in that moment he forgot everything. “Oh, Zachariah,” he sighed. The words escaped before he realized what he said.

  He felt his Lady stiffen beneath him. Her voice was cold when she asked, “Who is Zachariah.”

  Tom jerked back to the present, only then understanding what had happened. He withdrew from the embrace with his wife. “It is of no consequence.”

  Caroline shifted to cover herself. “Are you in love with someone else?” she whispered.

  He did not answer. Instead, he felt disgusted with himself, and with her. He rose and covered himself quickly.

  Lady Warren didn’t rise. She stared down at the rug, trying to conceal her tears.

  Tom did not miss them but even if she cried for eternity, her tears would not mark his heart. He had thought they would reach a point of mutual respect, even if it were only concerning their joint hatred of the world. But in her company he felt nothing.

  Jealousy ignited in his veins. His former friend, Esher, had found love in the most unlikely of sources. Though Esher denied it, Tom had seen it in the man’s eyes. He desired only the same. No, the same would never be enough, he realized. He wanted more than anything Esher had. Casting a glance back at his wife, he knew he would never feel anything for her. Walking to the window he resolved to get an heir or two off her, and the sooner the better. Once her duty was fulfilled he could abandon her bed forever, and nothing would suit him more.

  He left without a word, leaving Caroline to wallow in her tears and misery alone.

  WISTERIA HOUSE

  Wisteria House was aptly named for its lavender vines hugging the stone walls to the very rooftop, as if coveting the warmth in the great chimney. The house overlooked the stony bay and presented a wonderful, homey prospect. Chastity had been here for almost two months now and had not regretted her decision to stay, not for a single moment. As she pulled at the weeds in the garden, she sat back and looked across to the roaring sea. She breathed the air in deeply, and smiled as a lone seagull cried its melancholy call overhead.

  Chastity wiped the small bead of sweat from her forehead. To help ease the cost of her keep, William Speares had suggested she help him with the management of the place. She got on so well with his mother that by the end of two weeks he had offered her a permanent position there, and confident in her abilities, had returned home just a few weeks after that.

  William’s mother’s health was stable, but her injury kept the lady mostly to her bed so Chastity had the full management of the house and grounds. She loved it. Though her despair never left her heart, the work occupied most of her time so prevented her anguish from consuming her completely. The hotel was fairly small with six guest rooms and a small staff. The occupants left no time for Chastity to dwell on her altered situation. Apart from occasional moments of solitude like this, the days passed quickly enough in cooking and overseeing the accounts. She had several women who tended to laundry and the kitchen, and though they employed a gardener, Chastity sometimes helped with the weeding, just to get out and enjoy the fresh air.

  But by night Lord Esher entered her thoughts, robbing her of tranquility. His handsome face was her last thought as she closed her eyes, his image the first thing in her mind each morning when she woke. She was thinking of him now, but her thoughts were disturbed by the young gardener who came dashing round the corner.

  “Our guests are arriving Miss Howard, a fancy carriage just rolled up on the street in front. Looks like gentry to me, very finely dressed they were, very fine indeed.”

  Chastity had reverted to her maiden name and no longer started at
the sound of it. She liked this young man, who worked long hours for the House to earn some extra money. His goal was a place in the militia, and he worked hard to perfect his aim with his flintlock, the only thing of value he owned.

  “Very well, I shall come in at once. Just tell them I’ll be a moment while I wash my hands.”

  “Yes ma’am.”

  With that, the young boy scurried back around the corner and out of sight.

  Chastity pushed herself up from her knees and brushed the sandy dirt from her pale blue gown. During the season they had many rich guests come into Hastings from town, many traveled to take in the fresh sea air, so the place was a mecca for the sick and elderly. The rates were reasonable, but higher than some, which meant her clientele were mostly gentry. Chastity figured this must be a very fine customer indeed to excite the gardener as he had done.

  She quickly dried her hands on a towel, adjusted her simple straw bonnet and stepped quickly forward to greet the new guests. The luggage was still being removed from the carriage, and a stout young man with sandy blond hair stepped forward to greet her. He was dressed in navy livery and was one of the most handsome young men she had ever seen.

  The servant bowed respectfully, and spoke with a merry, sing-song tone. “Good day to you mistress. My master is fatigued from our journey and has taken a walk along the hill top but will return shortly. He has requested I see to his room and have everything in order before he returns.”

  “And what is your master’s name?”

  “Mister… uh, Brown,” the young valet stammered.

  Chastity caught the hesitation though didn’t bat an eye. Many of her guests assumed aliases and though her house was respectable, she knew a few journeyed to her threshold to conceal illicit dalliances away from the watchful eyes of society. Hastings was such a quiet, secluded seaside town, that such an affair could be conducted openly and the world would be none the wiser. Such it had always been, and such she suspected it always would be.

  “Very well, I have your key right here. You’re on the top floor. It’s the best room in the house, overlooking the bay. Please call me if I can be of any assistance.”

  “Of course.”

  Chastity knew that Mr. Brown travelled alone with his valet. She wondered whether he had an amore lodged discretely somewhere in the town. But it was no business of hers, and as soon as the young man and luggage disappeared upstairs she put all thoughts of her new visitor behind her and returned to the tranquility of the gardens.

  And she knelt back down amid the roses she saw a lone figure in the distance. There were no other houses up here on the hill, the house was lodged closed to the ancient battle fields where once Norman had defeated Saxon and forever changed the fortunes of a nation, so she correctly guessed the figure in the distance was her new guest. She could not see his face, for he had his back to her, but she could tell from the cut of his jacket and the density of his lace that he moved in the first circles.

  Chastity sighed. As she watched him standing there it reminded her of the life that now shunned her. Her heart grew heavy in spite of the soft summer breeze and magnificent view. She lowered her head. Even as she tended to the weeds amidst the roses, Chastity wiped a single tear from her cheeks, and tried to banish these thoughts from her mind.

  THOUGHTS OF LOVE

  Lord Warren breathed in huge gulps of the salty air and was reminded of his childhood. His father had been a tradesman in London, but his grandfather had a place nearby which he and his mother often visited in his childhood. His grandfather was long since dead, and though the house still stood it had been abandoned for some time now, and had become a home to creeping vines and weeds which crept around the exposed beams, making the place uninhabitable.

  His carriage had rolled past the old homestead on his way here and Warren had looked on in silence. He would not share his memories with anyone, not even Zachariah Moore, his new valet sitting quietly in the seat across from him and enjoying the view.

  Lord Warren’s memories of this place were happy ones. In contrast to his grandfather, his father had been a brutal man, who shared little love for his family—to Tom it seemed his father’s one true love was the gold he sought every day of his life. Through a combination of hard work and double-dealing the old man had amassed a great fortune and his son was well on the way to doubling it through speculation. Tom had a weakness for things of fashion and beauty, but like his father before him he knew his love of good things could not be supported on style alone. Tom worked hard to glean information to help minimalize the risk of speculation, and was frugal to the point of miserliness in the management of his estates.

  But for all that he was, something had happened lately that had slightly shifted his orbit. Cupid’s arrow had touched his heart. He had journeyed to Hastings with the express purpose of nurturing that love, but it was not his lawful wife he wooed but the handsome young valet he had recently engaged.

  As the light wind whipped his neckerchief about his face his thoughts for once were not of money, but something far more delicious. It was of Zachariah he thought of, as he looked far off to the horizon, his passions were ignited by the hypnotic rhythm of the seashore below.

  Therefore it was with a pleasant smile that he greeted the young valet as he came upon him now.

  “Everything’s in order, my Lord. As I told you, the rooms are very comfortable here, and if I may say so the new proprietress has an even better grasp of management than my mother, her predecessor. It’s much more comfortable now than I remember it.”

  “Very good.” Tom placed his hand on Zachariah’s cheek, and the boy nestled into it fondly, his own eyes alive and bright with love. “Let’s go back there, I’m hungry. It’s a little early for lunch but have the kitchen prepare me a tray of something and have it sent up. Get a bottle of brandy, too. I have quite an appetite.”

  Zachariah smiled and turned back to Wisteria House. His master followed on behind at a slower pace, enjoying the calm of the air and indulging in his thoughts of love. When he reached the front of the house, he stood to inhale the heady aroma of the wisteria now in bloom. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed a young woman, knelt down between the roses. The girl had her back to him yet in that glance he took in her shapely figure and almost regal posture. Aphrodite amid in the roses, he thought. He had just stretched out his hand to push open the door when he heard a young man call out from a window.

  “You’re wanted in the kitchen, Miss Howard.”

  “Be right there.”

  Something about her tone caught his ear and he turned to get a better look at the maid as she rose. And in that moment, his jaw dropped in astonishment, for there was no mistaking the beautiful form of the recently fallen Lady Esher. Yet the young Lord did not greet her, instead his eyes narrowed in malice and he moved a little closer to the door to avoid being seen. To his great relief, Lady Esher entered the house through a rear entrance and had not noticed him watching her from the front entrance. He listened attentively, his ear to the door, waiting to see which way she would go. As soon as he felt sure she was out of sight, he slipped inside her house and went straight to his bedchamber. Zachariah stood with some folded shirts draped over his arm, just retrieved from the bottom of the chest.

  “Apologies my Lord, I seemed to have overlooked these when I unpacked.”

  “No matter, it’s of no consequence. What name did we book under, remind me?”

  “Brown, sir.”

  “And the name of our hostess?”

  “Miss Howard.”

  “Very good. Under no circumstances is my real name to be mentioned to her or anyone, is that clear?”

  “Yes sir.”

  “And Zach, the proprietress is never to enter this room while I’m here. I have a connection with the lady that is distasteful to me. When I go out you will cover my face in a scarf so she doesn’t see me.” Lord Warren collapsed on the bed and stared idly at the ceiling. “I need to think whether providence has been kind
or otherwise in sending me here. It’s a nuisance, to be sure, but I wonder if I might glean some advantage from the encounter.”

  “Is there anything I can do, my Lord?” asked Zachariah.

  Tom smiled softly, and a flash of desire crossed his eyes. “Why don’t you go check on my tray, and once we’ve eaten, then we’ll see.”

  Understanding his master’s meaning a broad grin covered the young man’s features. “I’ll be as quick I can,” he said. He turned and left the room, leaving his master to ponder the opportunity chance had put before him.

  COLD COMFORT

  Lady Caroline Warren was with child. In every way the occasion was a joy, for since the announcement her husband had not come near her, and this gave her a sense of tremendous relief. Despite her desire to make their intimate relations work, she felt nothing but distaste for his preferred method of intercourse. His marked attentions to his new valet disgusted her, but she encouraged him nevertheless, for she would rather the boy felt her husband’s affections than herself. And yet she noticed that he was different with Zachariah, where he was brutish and garish with her, he was tender and loving with him. That irritated her.

  Today Lady Ashworth, who had also announced a pregnancy, was joining her for luncheon and she had to select a dress to wear. Fortunately as yet, there was no bump to speak of, and after Betty had presented the fourth dress for consideration, she nodded her approval and submitted to her maid’s ministrations.

  When her toilette was complete, Lady Warren rose and pressed down the soft rose colored bodice of her dress and admired her reflection in the tall looking glass before her. “I wonder if Lady Ashworth has any silk as fine as this one?”

  “Your Ladyship looks lovely today,” said Betty.

  “Yes, I think this color becomes me very well.”

  “Bring over my jewelry box – I’m feeling uncommonly extravagant today, and want to find the perfect brooch to set this off, even though it is just a luncheon.”