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your hands dirty.’

      ‘He doesn’t have dirty hands,’ Esme protested. ‘They are very clean and long-fingered, an artist’s hands. Is he an artist, Myles?’

      ‘I have no idea,’ he said. ‘But judging by that sketch he was doing he has a talent in that direction. I believe his business is in the manufacture of glass.’

      ‘Well, I think he is an artist,’ Esme said.

      ‘What you think of him is of no account,’ Rosemary said. ‘He is a manufacturer, a tradesman, and you will not think of him at all, do you hear?’

      ‘I hear.’ Esme told her, but she didn’t see how she could obey. Her thoughts could not be commanded like that. They wandered about in her head, jumping from one subject to another, and she could not say when a thought of the handsome Lord Pendlebury might pop into her mind, let alone tell it not to. She was thinking of him now, especially of his eyes. She had thought at first they were laughing; indeed, they had been full of amusement when Rosemary had been so haughty towards him, as if he understood and did not care, but when he spoke of being abroad, a shadow had passed across them, like a cloud on a summer’s day suddenly excluding the sun. There had been unhappiness in his life. She wondered what it was that made him suddenly sad and wished she could banish it and bring back the sunshine. Which was nonsense, of course.

      

      Felix watched them go and then break into a canter. The ladies were both accomplished horsewomen and he could admire that, even in the stiff-backed Lady Trent. As for her sister…Esme, a pretty name for a pretty young lady. He flipped over the page of his sketching pad and began drawing her face, every line of which seemed to be etched into his memory.

      He was being a fool, he knew that. He knew nothing about her. Was she, for instance, capable of breaking hearts? He rather fancied she was. He was beginning to envy the young men who might aspire to court her, but he did not envy them their broken hearts when she tired of them. He looked at what he had drawn and knew he had failed utterly to reproduce the joie de vivre that showed in her eyes, in her smiling mouth, in her trim figure, which seemed to buzz with barely controlled energy. Her whole demeanour seemed to say, ‘Here I am, ready for anything, put me to the test.’ He did not suppose that she, watched over and cosseted, had had a moment’s unhappiness in her whole life. She did not know what it felt like to be betrayed, to discover that what you had fondly believed was honest and wholesome was nothing of the sort. He hoped she never would.

      He saw the trio returning back at a neat trot and hastily flipped back to his plan, pretending to concentrate on the lines of his proposed building. He looked up as the horses approached him and tipped his hat to the ladies. Rosemary dipped her head in brief acknowledgement, but Lady Esme, riding slightly behind her sister, lifted her crop and gave him a broad smile. It was almost conspiratorial. It was the memory of that smile he carried back to Bruton Street with him.

      

      He was still thinking of it when he met Myles at Brooks’s later that day. The club was quiet at that time and the two men found a corner to enjoy a bottle of wine and talk, and though he would have liked to talk about Lady Esme Vernley, that was not the reason for the meeting and they settled down to discuss the Exhibition and how they could promote it. Knowing that it was meant to celebrate the work men and women did and the things they achieved, most of those who were referred to as the ‘operative classes’ were as enthusiastic as he was and were already giving their pennies and sixpences to the fund.

      ‘It won’t be enough,’ Felix said. ‘It’s the business owners we must aim at, people such as we are with money to spare. If we set a good example…’

      ‘I have done so already,’ Myles told him. ‘I do not doubt we shall manage it if we keep the momentum going. We have to. Already there are inquiries from abroad to display their wares.’ He chuckled. ‘My brother-in-law, Viscount Trent, is convinced that the capital will be overrun with foreigners, none of whom are honest or clean, and if they have nowhere to stay will be living in parks and doorways. Not only that, he is positive they will stir up unrest among our own workers.’

      ‘Accommodation will have to be provided for them and the troublemakers weeded out. The Duke of Wellington won’t hear of enlisting the help of foreign police. He is relying on our own police and the army to keep order. I know because he has asked for my help, on account of the fact that I came into contact with some of the revolutionaries when I was in Paris and was able to pass on intelligence to our government. I think he is worrying unduly, but I have said I will do what I can. We are to meet next week to discuss it.’ He paused. ‘I tell you this in confidence, of course.’

      ‘Of course. You will be staying in town, then?’

      ‘For the moment.’ He smiled suddenly. ‘I also have courtesy visits to make to my mother’s friends, which I had been looking on as an irksome duty, but if your delightful sister-in-law should happen to be present at any of their at-homes, it will change from a duty to a pleasure.’

      ‘She is a delight,’ Myles agreed. ‘And I hope nothing happens to spoil that.’

      ‘Why should it?’

      ‘Because she is an innocent and ripe for adventure and could easily be led into accepting flattery and flirtation as reality and falling head over heels in love when the attraction might well be that she is the daughter of an earl.’

      ‘Are you warning me to stay clear?’

      ‘I would not be so presumptuous. I hope you are old enough and wise enough to understand and perhaps look out for her.’

      ‘Does she not have a dragon of a sister to do that?’

      Myles laughed. ‘Oh, she will contrive to slip her rein if the watchfulness becomes too unbearable.’

      ‘A scatterbrain, then.’

      ‘Far from it. She is the youngest daughter and her parents and sisters, Rosemary in particular, tend to treat her like a schoolgirl and a delicate one at that, but she is twenty in two months’ time and not nearly as fragile as she looks. She embraces everything with enthusiasm and is afraid of nothing, but underneath it all, I think she is capable of deep feeling.’

      ‘You know the family well, then?’

      ‘I am married to Esme’s other sister, Lucinda—have been for six years now. Esme is more like Lucy than Rosemary, a free spirit. I wish I could stay and keep an eye on her, but I am anxious to return to my wife and children. Henry, our three-year-old, had a nasty cold and Lucy would not leave him to accompany me and I am not comfortable in the Trent household without her. I am the upstart, a man who likes to earn his living, and though the Earl, their father, has come to accept me, Rosemary has never thought me quite good enough for her sister. Matters are made worse by my support for the Exhibition. Trent is implacably opposed.’

      ‘I see I shall have to avoid crossing swords with him. When do you leave town?’

      ‘Tomorrow morning.’

      ‘Then I shall bid you adieu now. No doubt we will meet frequently as the year advances.’

      ‘I certainly hope so.’ He paused, smiling. ‘Does your mother count Lady Mountjoy among her friends, my lord?’

      Felix’s grin was one of understanding. ‘Do you know, I believe she does.’

      They left the building together and parted on the street, Myles to return to Trent House, Felix to take a stroll about the town. It was necessary to become familiar with every street, every alleyway, every court, every hotbed of dissent if he were to discharge the duty the Duke of Wellington had set him.

      

      It was at the end of that perambulation, when he was on his way home again, that he decided to call on Lady Mountjoy in Duke Street.

      Her ladyship received him in her drawing room. She was thin as a rake, dressed in unrelieved black, even down to black mittens and a black lace handkerchief. He bowed and explained the purpose of his visit was to pay his respects to his mother’s

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