A Desirable Husband

He suddenly turned and looked straight at her. She found herself catching her breath, because he was the most handsome man she had ever seen in her life.

He smiled at her, put his finger to the brim of his hat and tilted it toward her. Her answering smile lit her face, as if she had suddenly met someone she had known long ago and hadn’t seen for a while.

“Esme, how could you?” Rosemary took Esme’s arm and almost dragged her away.

Esme looked back over her shoulder and discovered the young man was staring after them….

A Desirable Husband

Harlequin®Historical

MILLS & BOON

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MARY NICHOLS

Born in Singapore, Mary Nichols came to England when she was three, and has spent most of her life in different parts of East Anglia. She has been a radiographer, school secretary, information officer and industrial editor, as well as a writer. She has three grown children and four grandchildren.

A Desirable Husband

MARY NICHOLS

Available from Harlequin® Historical and MARY NICHOLS

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Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Epilogue

Chapter One

March 1850

‘Are we nearly there?’ Esme turned from watching the countryside flying past the carriage window at a speed that would have frightened her had she been a young lady given to attacks of the vapours, which she certainly was not.

It was not her first ride in a train because she had travelled by this means the short distance from her home in Luffenham to Leicester to visit her married sister, Lucy, but that went at the pace of a snail. This was the first time she had undertaken such a long journey, and without her parents, too. Lucy had intended to accompany her, but five-year-old Harry had gone down with a cold and she would not leave him. So here she was, being escorted by her brother-in-law, who had business in town, and Miss Bannister, her old governess, who was going to act as companion and maid.

‘Not long now,’ Myles told her. ‘Are you tired?’

‘Not especially, I’m simply impatient to arrive.’ Papa had said he could not give her a Season—at least, not one befitting the daughter of the Earl of Luffenham—and she would have to take her chances on finding a husband among the local gentry, which would be very nearly impossible. She knew them all and there wasn’t one she liked well enough to want to spend the rest of her life with. The whole family talked about it, arguing to and fro as if they were talking about what to do with a problem servant. Both Lucinda and Rosemary had had come-out seasons and it didn’t seem fair that Esme should be deprived of one, for how else could she find a suitable husband? In the end, Rosemary, who was married to Rowan, Viscount Trent, and lived in a smart mansion in Kensington, had persuaded her husband to provide the wherewithal. Esme could not wait to see what social occasions had been arranged for her.

At nineteen, the youngest of the Earl of Luffenham’s three daughters, Esme was as excited as a child. With her flawless skin, rosy cheeks and big blue eyes, she looked younger than her years—a state of affairs she was anxious to correct. She was a young lady, a marriageable young lady, and she wished everyone would not treat her like a schoolgirl. Mama and Papa and Lucy had spent the whole of the day before giving her advice on how to behave. ‘Do this. Don’t do that. Remember you are a lady. Be courteous and friendly, but do not allow any of the gentlemen to whom you are introduced to take liberties.’ She wasn’t quite sure what they meant by liberties; she supposed kissing her would be one. She wondered what it would be like to be kissed by a man, but she hadn’t dared ask.

The journey had begun very early when they boarded the local train at Luffenham Halt to take them to Peterborough, where they changed on to the London train. It was all made easy for them because Myles was someone important in the railway world; porters and guards and everyone working on the railway, fell over themselves to ease his passage. But even so, sitting in a closed carriage for five hours was about as much as she could bear.

‘Another few minutes,’ he said. ‘We are slowing down already.’

She turned her attention back to the window and realised they had left the countryside behind and there were smoke-begrimed buildings on either side of the line. A minute or two later they drew into the Maiden Lane terminus and the platform came into view with people standing about, perhaps to meet others coming off the train, perhaps to board it for its return journey. Porters scurried here and there, carrying luggage, mysterious parcels, boxes of cabbages and crates of squawking chickens. A dozen empty milk churns stood ready to be sent back whence they came, no doubt to be returned full the next morning.

They stopped in a hiss of steam and the door of their carriage was opened by a porter. Myles stepped down, then turned to help her. She remembered just in time that she was supposed to be a decorous young lady and resisted the temptation to jump down on to the platform and allowed him to hand her down. Miss Bannister followed while he was giving instructions to the porter about the delivery of their luggage.

Esme felt firm ground beneath her feet; she was here at last, in the great metropolis. The excitement bubbling up in her was hard to contain, but overexuberance was one of the things Mama had warned her against, so she walked sedately beside Myles as they left the station and he hailed a cab to take them to Kensington. Familiar only with Leicester and Peterborough, the two towns nearest her home, the city seemed never ending: warehouses, shops, poky little houses and grand mansions in juxtaposition lined their route, and then a long wide avenue running alongside a park.

‘That’s Green Park,’ Myles told her. ‘Buckingham Palace is on the far side of it. We’ll come to Hyde Park soon. That’s where the Exhibition is going to be held next year.’ He leaned forward and pointed. ‘That’s the Duke of Wellington’s house.’

‘Shall I meet him?’

‘I don’t know. You might.’

‘But he is your friend?’

‘He is certainly an acquaintance, I would not be so presumptuous as to claim him for a friend.’

‘Shall I meet Prince Albert? Will he be present when I make my curtsy?’

‘Goodness, child, I don’t know.’

‘I am not a child, Myles. You sound just like Banny.’

He grinned ruefully at Miss Bannister while addressing Esme. ‘Then I beg your pardon. I shall remember in future to address you as my lady.’

‘Now you are being silly.’

Nothing could repress her for long and she was soon smiling again. A few minutes more and the cab driver turned into a wide street lined with imposing town villas and pulled up outside one of them. ‘Trent House,’ he announced.

Myles got out, handed Esme down and then her companion. He was always courteous and polite to Miss Bannister and treated her like a lady, for which he received her undying support.

Esme was standing uncertainly, looking about her, when the front door of the nearest house was opened and her sister, in a dove-grey dress and white cap, stood waiting to greet her. Esme started to run to meet her, but remembered in time that running was not ladylike and walked to the door.

‘Here at last.’ Rosemary offered her cheek to be kissed. ‘Did you have a good journey?’

‘Yes, very good, but I’m so glad to be here.’

‘You are very welcome, sister dear.’ And to Myles, offering her hand, ‘Myles, welcome. Come along in. I’ll take you to your rooms, then when you have settled in, we shall have some refreshments and you shall tell me all the news from home.’

Ignoring Miss Bannister, she led the way into an imposing entrance hall and up a flight of stairs. ‘The drawing room,’ she said, waving at a closed door. ‘And that’s the dining room. The door farther along is the small parlour where we sit when we are alone. That’s where I shall be, so come there when you are ready.’ On she went up a second flight of stairs. ‘Bedrooms on this floor,’ she said, flinging open a door. ‘This one is yours, Esme. I have put Miss Bannister next door, for your convenience. Myles, a room has been prepared for you at the far end of the corridor.’ She pointed at a farther flight of stairs. ‘Nursery suite and servants’ quarters up there, though they have their own staircase. That’s it, except for the ground floor, which contains anterooms, a large room we use for dancing, soirées and suchlike, the library and Rowan’s study. I’ll show you those later.’

Miss Bannister and Myles left them and Rosemary followed Esme into her room and sat on the end of the bed to watch as her sister removed her gloves, cloak and bonnet to reveal a tiered skirt in a soft blue wool. It was not new. Nothing she had was brand-new. ‘Esme, did you have to wear that dress?’

Esme smoothed her hands over her waist. ‘What’s wrong with it? Mama said it was perfectly adequate for travelling.’

‘It’s years old. I remember you having that when I was still at home.’ She stopped speaking to answer a knock at the door. Two footmen had arrived with Esme’s trunk. They were waved inside and told to put it on the floor at the foot of the bed. They had no sooner gone than Rosemary had it open and was pulling out the contents. ‘Esme, I could swear this was Lucy’s jacket. And this skirt.’ She delved deeper into it. ‘And this gown…’

‘So they are—Mama said no one would ever know.’

‘Haven’t you brought any clothes of your own?’

‘Not many,’ Esme confessed. ‘They are all so old and some of them are too short for a young lady and Lucy said I could have these. She has grown a little plumper since she had Vicky and they are the very best materials. We hardly had to alter anything, except to shorten them. Lucy is inches taller than I am.’

‘Whatever was Mama thinking of, to send you with nothing but hand-me-downs? You’ll never find a husband that way.’

‘No one knows they are hand-me-downs.’

‘Myles knows.’

‘Of course he does, but he’s family, and Lucy asked him if he thought it was all right for me to have them and he said they were her clothes and she could give them to whomever she pleased.’

‘He would.’ There was a deal of meaning in those two words and conveyed perfectly what Rosemary thought of her brother-in-law. He was an upstart, a nobody, for all he was Lord Moor-croft’s heir; it was a new peerage and meant nothing at all, except that the working classes were aspiring to become nobility, which they never could do. They did not have the breeding. She tolerated him, even managed to be polite and treat him like an equal, but that was for Lucy’s sake, not his. ‘I can’t take you out and about unless you are dressed appropriately. Whatever will people think of me?’

‘I shouldn’t think they will think anything of it.’ Esme had forgotten how repressing Rosie could be. Nothing and nobody was good enough; even her poor husband was bullied into conforming to her ways.

‘Nevertheless, you shall have a new wardrobe. Thank goodness the Season hasn’t started yet and there will be plenty of choice in the shops and dressmakers with little enough to do.’

‘I am sure Papa cannot afford it. He has been lecturing us for years about not being extravagant and it’s got worse since he lost money investing in the Eastern Counties railway.’

‘More fool him for doing it. No doubt he listened to Myles.’

‘It wasn’t Myles’s fault, he advised against it. I believe it was Viscount Gorridge, though his lordship cannot have taken his own advice because he is richer than ever.’

‘Well, whatever it was, you are going to have new clothes. Rowan will pay. He always gives me whatever I ask for.’

‘Aren’t you lucky,’ Esme said, which made her sister look sharply at her, but there was no malice in Esme’s expression.

‘Yes, I am.’ She went to the door to the adjoining room. ‘Miss Bannister, Esme requires your help changing her dress.’ To Esme she said, ‘Hurry up. I’ve lots to tell you. And I want to hear how Mama is.’ And with that she took her leave.

Esme turned to look at the room. It had a large canopied bed, a huge walnut wardrobe, a table and two upright chairs, a little desk with another chair, a chest of drawers and, beside the bed, a bookcase containing several matching books. She went over to the window, which had view of a park, neat gardens and a stretch of water.

‘Did you hear all that?’ she asked Banny, who had joined her.

‘Yes.’

‘She made me feel like a poor relation. I was so pleased when Lucy gave me those clothes; they fit me very well and I do not feel such a schoolgirl in them. I am not a schoolgirl and I do hope that Rosie isn’t going to buy me a lot of silly frilly stuff. I am grateful to her for having me, but I want to be me, not her baby sister.’

Miss Bannister smiled. ‘I think you can stand up to her, my pet, but take my advice, be diplomatic about it. What shall you wear now?’

‘I don’t mind. It’s not important if I am going to be lectured about it.’

Twenty minutes later, washed and dressed in a green-and-yellow striped jaconet with her hair freshly brushed and held back with combs, she went down to the small sitting room to find her sister presiding over the teapot. Myles was standing looking out of the window. He turned to smile at her as she entered and she felt at least here she had an ally.

They drank tea and nibbled little cakes; Myles told Rosemary all the news of Lucy and young Henry and baby Victoria and was regaled in turn with the cleverness of Master John Trent, who had just had his first birthday. Esme sat and appeared to be listening, but her mind was wandering. In spite of her defence of Lucy and her gratitude for the clothes, she was looking forward to having a wardrobe of her own, something bought and made especially for her. Shopping would be a rare treat, but after that…

Mama had told her what her own come-out Season had been like and said all Seasons followed an established pattern. The first and most important event was her presentation to the Queen. Along with a long line of others, she would have to walk sedately into the room without falling over her ten-foot train and on reaching her Majesty make the deepest curtsy, until her knee was almost on the floor, and hold that position while kissing the Queen’s hand and bowing her head. And then she had to get up again without falling over. The trickiest bit was scooping up her train and making her way backwards out of the room.

After that she would be well and truly out and could accept invitations to soirées and routs and balls at which she would meet many new people, including some young men out looking for a wife, who would flatter and cajole. She was not, under any circumstances, to have her head turned by them. Rosie would say who was and who was not suitable and whom she could safely encourage.

She came out of her reverie to hear Rosemary saying, ‘Esme is a hopeless romantic and is unlikely to make a push to find a suitable husband herself, so I will have to take her in hand and point her in the right direction.’

‘Is it like a paper trail, then?’ Esme asked and was gratified to see a smile crease Myles’s face, which he quickly stifled.

‘Don’t be flippant, Esme,’ her sister said. ‘It is a serious business. You have to choose a husband carefully because you have to spend the rest of your life with him.’

‘But the same must be said of him, surely? He has to spend his life with me.’

‘It’s different for a man.’

‘How?’

Rosemary looked discomforted. ‘It just is. A man is looking for a lady to be an asset to his position in life, someone to be a credit to him, someone to manage his household, entertain his friends, be a good mother to his children, look elegant on his arm.’

‘What about being in love?’

Rosemary suddenly found it necessary to fiddle with the tea caddy and it was left to Myles to answer her. ‘He must be in love with his wife and she with him, that goes without saying, otherwise the marriage is doomed to failure.’

‘Well, of course,’ Rosemary said, and rang the bell for the parlour maid to come and remove the tea things. As soon as they had been taken away, she stood up. ‘I always have a half hour with John about this time before he is put to bed. Would you like to come and say hallo to him, Esme? Myles, I am sure you can amuse yourself. There is a newspaper on the side table. There’s little enough news in it, except the plans for the Exhibition. “The Great Exhibition of the Industry of All Nations.” What a title!’

The proposed exhibition was the brain child of Henry Cole, a man of many talents, who had been involved in smaller exhibitions all over the country. He had approached Prince Albert with the idea of combining the art and manufacture of the whole world in one enormous exhibition and his Highness had embraced it enthusiastically and become its principal patron. It was why Myles had come to town, invited to a banquet by his Royal Highness and the Lord Mayor of London aimed at furthering the project among influential people in the provinces.

Esme followed her sister from the room. She wanted to be married, like her sisters, but she was not going to let herself be pushed by Rosemary into marriage with someone she did not love. Myles had said it was important and so had Lucy. Lucy had managed to win Papa round to let her marry Myles who was not at first considered a suitable husband for the daughter of an earl, being a man who liked to work and was not afraid to dirty his hands, though he was rich enough not to have to. Since then he had been a rock for all the family, the man they all turned to for help and advice—all except Rosemary, of course. She had never changed her original opinion of him; he was a labourer, one of the operative classes and far beneath her. Esme would be happy if she could find another Myles, but she did not suppose there could be two such as he.

Having admired her nephew, watched him being petted by his mother until he dribbled all down her gown and was hastily handed back to his nurse, Esme returned to her room to rest before dressing for dinner. At the sound of the first gong, signalling that dinner would be in a half hour, Miss Bannister helped her into one of the gowns Lucy had given her. It was a cerise silk that had suited Lucy, who was darker than she was, but Esme was not sure that it was the best colour for her pale complexion, but she would never have dreamed of hurting her sister’s feelings by saying so.

She heard the second gong as she was going down to the drawing room where she found the family gathered. She barely had time to greet Rowan before dinner was announced and they went into the dining room and took their places at the long table.

Esme had met Rowan twice before, once when Rosie had first become engaged to him and then again at the wedding at which she was a bridesmaid. He was tall and thin and had a long nose, which was unfortunate because it seemed as if he was perpetually looking down on everyone. Except Myles, of course; no one could look down on Myles who was well over six feet tall.

While the meal was being served they exchanged pleasantries, but the conversation flagged after that. It was then Rowan filled the void by asking Myles what had brought him to London, apart from escorting Esme.

‘Myles has an invitation to Prince Albert’s banquet at the Mansion House,’ Esme put in before he could answer for himself. ‘It’s huge. It has gold letters and a gold border and his Highness’s coat of arms on it. You should see it.’

‘Is that so?’ Rowan turned to Myles. ‘Am I to conclude you are going to add your name to that ridiculous idea for an exhibition?’

‘I do not consider it ridiculous,’ Myles said evenly. ‘It will be a showcase for everyone, no matter what country, creed or branch of endeavour they are engaged in. It will show the world that Britain leads the way in innovation and engineering and bring exhibits and visitors from all over the world.’

‘That is just what I have against it,’ Rowan said pithily. ‘We shall be inundated with hoards of people roaming the streets, filling the cabs and omnibuses, frightening the horses and servants who will not dare venture forth on their lawful business for fear of being set upon by thieves and cut-throats. And there is the risk of troublemakers from the Continent spreading discontent among our own workers who will undoubtedly find the means to flock into London. And with all that building going on, goodness knows what it will do to property values in the area, and that includes this house.’

‘I am given to understand the building will only be a temporary one and will be taken down as soon as the Exhibition is over.’

‘And how long do you think that will take?’

‘I cannot say. I am sorry you do not feel inclined to support it, Rowan.’