Hester Waring's Marriage by Paula Marshall Page A

wine, had never eaten pineapple before and she found it delicious.
    â€˜But a little messy, Mr Dilhorne, is it not? Pray, is there no polite way to consume such a delicacy?’
    She gave him a smile of such sweetness that Tom began to wonder what a properly fed and cared-for Miss Waring might look like.
    The pineapple disposed of, its remains neatly wrapped in some of the paper from the basket, he rang for Smith to bring them a bowl of water and a towel so that they might wash and dry their sticky hands. After that, Smith and another man came in and took away everything but the bottle of wine and their glasses.
    Alone again, Tom poured Hester more wine. Her third or fourth glass? she queried hazily. He was evidently trying to turn her into a toper as well as a glutton, but oh, what a delicious sense of well-being eating good food brought on! She could forgive him almost anything for that.
    He was opposite to her again, his manner now quite serious.
    â€˜Miss Waring, I have a proposition to put to you. Pray do not dismiss it out of hand. Think carefully about what I am saying. Your future happiness may rest on it.’ He paused.
    What could the man be about to say? My future happiness? I must be mishearing. It is all the wine I am drinking, thought Hester, absent-mindedly taking another great swallow in order to clear her fuddled head.
    More elegantly arranged sentences followed. ‘As you may or may not know, Miss Waring, I am shortly to lose my housekeeper, who is getting married and going to live at Paramatta. I need not say what a blow this is to a man who likes an orderly life. Now, you, Miss Waring, would make an excellent person to run my home. You have a good mind, a bright wit, and would also make me an informed companion with whom I could usefully converse.’
    Hester heard all this with her mouth open—not an uncommon occurrence when she was talking to Mr Tom Dilhorne. She tried to imagine herself usefully conversing with him—on what? Whilst thinking this over, she finished her wine and he neatly filled her glass again. She failed to notice that he was not drinking anything.
    â€˜But we have a problem, Miss Waring: much though I should like to employ you, and much though you might want to come—’ this fascinated her, how could he really think that? ‘—there is no way in which a charming young lady such as yourself could agree to live in the house of a man like me who has a certain reputation—you take my meaning, I am sure. Think of the gossip which would ensue!
    â€˜Now, I also need a wife. A lady who knows what’s what about etiquette and the proper thing to do. And you would make an excellent wife, Miss Waring, but I fear that you do not really wish to marry me in the true sense. I am right, am I not?’
    Hester found herself nodding her head, quite unable to speak. She was not sure whether it was the wine, or the shock which his words were bringing on which held herparalysed and mute. He took her nodding head for agreement to his last proposition and smoothly continued.
    â€˜That being so, and I see that, as usual, we are in complete accord, you will understand why I am making this purely business proposition to you, Miss Waring. What would you say if I asked you to marry me, in name only, so that I would acquire a wife and a hostess, and you would acquire safety, respectability and a good home?’
    He had finished, and was sitting back and smiling at her, the blue eyes dancing, his crooked smile more crooked than ever. He repeated his earlier words. ‘What would you say, Miss Waring?’
    Miss Waring took another swallow, hardly able to credit what she was hearing—for more reasons than one. She wanted to ask him, What on earth has happened to your diction, Mr Dilhorne, to transform you from the poorly spoken brute my father despised? And how in the world did a felon from the gutters of London, transported for theft—or worse—acquire