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!’