“Lenore! Just the person. Look here—this blackguard has just taken me for twenty-five guineas and I’ve no more than five on me. Settle for me, will you, dear sister?”
The request was accompanied by a look of meltingly innocent appeal that Lenore had never been known to resist. She could not do so now, but oh, how she wished she could tell her exasperating brother to settle his own debts. At least, those with Eversleigh. With no alternative offering, Lenore descended to the hall. “Yes, of course.” Poised, serene, she turned to greet Jack’s companion.
Jason took the small hand offered him, noting the nervous flutter of her fingers, like a small bird trapped within his hand. “Good morning, Miss Lester. I trust you slept well?”
“Perfectly, thank you,” Lenore lied, retrieving her hand.
“I must off and look at the dogs—Higgs said something about an infection. Papa would have apoplexy if anything serious transpired. I’ll meet you at the stables, Eversleigh.” With a brisk nod, Jack took himself off.
Viewing her brother’s retreating back with uneasy resignation, Lenore murmured, “If you’ll come this way, Your Grace?”
Jason inclined his head, falling into step beside her as she led the way down the corridor to a door beyond the billiard-room. It gave on to a small office tucked partly under the stairs. A single window looked out over the lawns behind the house. Ledgers marched, row upon row, along the bookshelves covering one wall. Jason watched as Lenore sat behind the old desk, its surface covered with neat piles of papers and accounts, and drew a key from the small pocket at her waist.
“Is this your domain?”
Lenore looked up. “Yes. I manage the household and the estate.”
Propping his shoulders against the window-frame, Jason raised one winged brow. “I’ve often wondered how Jack and Harry manage. They rarely seem to feel the need to spend time husbanding their acres.”
Lenore’s lips curved. “As there always seems to be an abundance of entertainments elsewhere to keep them busy and as I find the occupation amusing, we long ago reached an understanding.”
“But it can’t be straightforward, not being the one in authority?”
Straightening an account book, left open on the blotter before her, Lenore allowed one brow to rise. “I’ve always been here, and everyone about knows who runs Lester Hall.” From behind her spectacles, she viewed the lean length so negligently displayed by the window. Eversleigh dominated her small room, filling it with an aura of masculine energy. At the moment, however, he seemed reassuringly relaxed. Lenore yielded to the promptings of curiosity. “Tell me, Your Grace, do you directly manage your own estates?”
One arrogant brow flew. “Certainly, Miss Lester. That is one responsibility I cannot and would not wish to deny.”
“What, then, do you think of these Corn Laws of ours, sir?” Eyes alight, Lenore clasped her hands on the desk and leaned forward eagerly.
Jason paused, studying her face, then replied, “They’re not working, Miss Lester.”
What followed was a conversation that, for his part, Jason would never have believed possible. But Lenore had the questing nature of a bloodhound once she realised he understood first-hand the ramifications of the controversial agricultural laws.
Finally, her thirst for knowledge appeased, she sat back with a sigh. “So you believe they will be repealed?”
“Eventually,” Jason admitted, his arms crossed over his chest. “But it will be some time before that’s achieved.”
Lenore nodded, her mind still busy cataloguing all she had learned. It was a rare blessing to find a gentleman able and willing to discuss such matters with her. Her father had long since lost touch with the outside world; her brothers cared nothing for the political sphere. And there were few gentlemen among her select circle who held estates large enough to comprehend the negative effects of the reactionary laws.
Recalling what had brought her to her office, Lenore shook aside her thoughts and sat up. Pulling out a drawer, she fumbled until she found another key, the pair to the first, still warm in her hand. Rising, she crossed to where a cupboard was set into the bookcase. She inserted one key and unlocked the door, swinging it open to reveal a grey metal safe. The second key unlocked the simple safe. Reaching in, Lenore drew out a small pouch. It was the work of a minute to loosen the strings and shake a handful of golden guineas into her palm. She was busy counting them when a large hand closed over hers, curling her fingers about the coins.
“No. Keep them.”
“Oh, no.” Lenore shook her head vehemently, too well acquainted with male pride to accept such a boon. “Jack would never forgive me.” She looked up, into Eversleigh’s grey eyes, one brow rising haughtily when she saw his expression harden.
For a long moment, Eversleigh studied her. “I will not accept any coins from you but I’ll undertake to tell Jack the debt was paid in full.”
Stubbornly, Lenore shook her head, her lips firming in a mutinous line.
Jason held her steady gaze, his eyes narrowed, his fingers tight about her hand. Then, his lips twisted in a wry smile. “Something else, perhaps,” he suggested. His smile deepened. He released her hand but not her eyes. “I will not accept any money in payment of Jack’s debt. Instead, Miss Lester, I’ll settle for the answer to one question.”
Lenore frowned up at him. “What question?”
“Ah, no.” Jason stepped back to lean against the bookshelves. He eyed her speculatively. “Not until you agree to settling thus.”
Lenore’s eyes narrowed. Glancing down at the coins in her hand, she debated the wisdom of making any bargain with a rake. But what could he ask, after all. Twenty-five guineas was no great sum, not in her accounting, yet if she saved it she could put it into her special fund for helping their needier tenants.
“Very well.” She dropped the coins back into the pouch and returned it to the safe. Shutting the safe, she locked the cupboard door, all the while reassuring herself that she was the one in charge. Finally, she turned to face Eversleigh. “What is your question, Your Grace?”
Jason smiled. “Why do you persist in hiding your light under a bushel, my dear?”
Lenore blinked. “I beg your pardon?”
The look Eversleigh bent upon her forcibly reminded her of his reputation.
“I asked why you are so assiduous in veiling your attributes from those most likely to appreciate them.”
Pressing her hands together, Lenore put her nose in the air. “I have no idea what you mean, Your Grace.”
“Let’s see if I can explain.” Jason straightened, pushing away from the wall. Horrified, Lenore watched, wide-eyed, as two strides brought him to stand directly before her. His hands came up to grasp the bookshelves just beyond each of her shoulders, trapping her between his arms.
Feeling the edges of the bookshelves digging into her spine, Lenore cleared her throat. “I’m convinced you are too much the gentleman to resort to intimidation, Your Grace.”
“Believe what you will of me, my dear, but allow me to remove these, before they obscure your very pretty eyes.”
Before she could react, Eversleigh had whipped her fogging spectacles from her nose, dropping them on the desk behind him.
Stifling a squeak of sheer outrage, Lenore blinked furiously up at him.
A slow smile was her reward. “A great improvement.” For an instant, the silver gaze roamed her face in open appreciation before, with a last unnerving glance at her lips, Jason returned his attention to the matter at hand. “Permit me to inform you, Miss Lester, that, unlike the majority who have visited here, I am neither blind nor gullible. That being so, I wish to know why you insist on purposely hiding your charms.”
In the face of such an attack, there was nothing to do but fight back. “My charms, as you are plea
sed to call them, are my own, I believe? If it pleases me to keep them hidden, then who has any right to gainsay me?” Lenore felt distinctly pleased with that piece of logic.
“There are many, Miss Lester, who would maintain that a beautiful woman is created for the enjoyment of men. How do you answer the charge of short-changing half the population?”
“I am not on this earth to pander to the whims of men, my lord.” Head back, eyes flashing, Lenore felt her temper take hold. “Indeed, I’ve discovered that by avoiding the complications engendered by the male of the species, it is tolerably easy to live a calm and well-ordered life.”
Eversleigh’s eyes narrowed.
Abruptly realising that she had said too much, Lenore temporised, “That is…”
“No.” The single syllable stopped her, drying her stumbling words at source. “I think I see the light.”
To her consternation, Eversleigh leaned closer, his narrowed eyes casting a silver net she could not escape. He loomed over her, around her; never in her life had she felt so helpless.
His eyes searched hers. “You don’t wish to marry.” The words were enunciated slowly, quietly, but were all the more definite for that. “You hide your delights beneath heavy cambric and hope no one will see enough to be interested.”
Lenore wished she could shake her head but Eversleigh’s compelling gaze prevented prevarication. She summoned a glare. “I see no reason why any man should be interested in me, Your Grace.”
The reaction to that was not what she had hoped. A slow smile twisted Eversleigh’s lips. He shifted, bringing one large hand up to take a large pinch of her clothing, just above the yoke of her gown. Deliberately, he gave the material a brisk twitch, back and forth.
Lenore’s shocked gasp filled the room. Her eyes flew wide at the excruciating sensation of her gown shifting over her tightened nipples. Horrified, she batted his hand away.
“Permit me to inform you, Miss Lester, that you have a severely proscribed understanding of the basis of male interest. I suggest you extend your studies before you come to any conclusions.”
“As I have no intention of marrying, I have absolutely no interest in such topics, Your Grace!”
Her declaration focused Eversleigh’s attention dramatically. His penetrating gaze bored into her eyes, his expression hardened. Flushed, Lenore held her own, but she could see nothing in the steel of his eyes to give her any clue to his thoughts.
Then, to her considerable relief, he straightened, his hands dropping to his side.
“Miss Lester, has it occurred to you that you have been much indulged?”
Lenore drew breath, determined to keep her chin up. “Indeed, Your Grace. My father and brothers are most supportive.”
“They have been slack, Miss Lester.” Without warning, he caught her chin on the edge of one large hand, keeping her face turned up to his. The grey eyes once more roamed her features. Lenore could not breathe. His expression was stern, almost forbidding. “Your father and brothers have not done their duty by you. A woman of your intelligence and beauty is wasted outside marriage.”
“That is not my opinion, Your Grace.”
“I am aware of that, my dear. We shall have to see what can be done to change it.”
Paralysed, Lenore stared up at him. Startled conjecture vied with a strange, breathless, senseless yearning, a panoply of thoughts and sensations buffeting her brain. She could think of nothing to say.
The door opened.
“Oh! Excuse me, Miss Lenore, but I’ve come to do the menus.”
Twisting her chin from Eversleigh’s grasp, Lenore peeked around him and saw her housekeeper, Mrs. Hobbs, standing uncertainly in the doorway. “Er…yes. Lord Eversleigh and I were just examining the lock of this cupboard. It was stuck.” With a warning glance at Eversleigh, Lenore turned towards her desk.
“Ah, well,” said Mrs. Hobbs, ambling forward, a large bundle of old menus and receipts clutched to her ample bosom. “I’d better get John to take a look at it, then.”
“No, no. It’s working now.” Lenore cast a desperate glance at Eversleigh, praying he would behave himself and depart.
To her relief, he swept her a graceful bow. “I’m pleased to have been of assistance, my dear. If you have any other difficulties that are within the scope of my poor abilities to cure, pray feel free to call on my talents.”
Lenore’s eyes narrowed. “Thank you, Your Grace.”
Jason smiled, his wolf’s smile, and turned to the door. On the threshold, he paused, glancing back to see Lenore close her account book and lay it aside, then draw a pile of menus towards her.
“Miss Lester?”
Lenore looked up. “Yes, Your Grace?”
A long finger pointed at the corner of her desk. “Your spectacles, my dear.”
Swallowing a curse, Lenore grabbed the delicate frames and arranged them on her nose, then glanced up, but her tormentor had gone.
“Now. For lunch I’d thought to have…”
Stifling a wholly unexpected sigh, Lenore gave her attention to Mrs. Hobbs.
An hour later, she was staring out of the window, her account book open before her, the ink dry on her nib, when Amelia’s head appeared around the door.
“There you are! I’d despaired of finding you.”
Lenore returned her cousin’s bright smile, laying aside her pen as Amelia crossed the room to subside into the armchair before the desk in a froth of apricot muslin. “I take it last evening passed without incident?”
Amelia waved the question aside. “You were right. They’re a perfectly manageable lot. All except Eversleigh. I wouldn’t care to have to manage him. But His Grace had taken himself off somewhere. Truth to tell, I retired early myself.” She turned to look at Lenore. “I looked for you but couldn’t find you anywhere.”
Lenore shut her account book with a snap. “I was detained on the terrace.”
“Oh? By what?”
“A discussion of the relative merits of present and past civilisations, as I recall.”
Amelia grimaced. “One of your dry discussions, I take it?”
Calmly sorting her papers, Lenore did not respond.
“Anyway, you’ll be pleased to know I took care of one of your hostessly chores for you.”
“Oh?”
“The Melton sisters. They had quite worn down poor Mr. Marshall; I had to rescue him. And that reminds me.” Amelia swung about, bright brown eyes dancing. “I’ve discovered why Eversleigh’s here!”
Lenore’s hands stilled. “Why?” she asked, hoping Amelia would not detect the breathlessness that had laid siege to her voice.
“Mr. Marshall told me that Eversleigh is dreading the prospect of facing all the matchmaking mamas. I do believe he’s here rusticating, recouping his energies before returning to town and facing his fate. He’s got six aunts, you know.”
“Yes, I know,” Lenore murmured, her thoughts elsewhere. When Amelia turned an enquiring gaze on her, she added, “They’re friends of Harriet’s.” Lenore cleared her throat. “What sort of woman do you think Eversleigh will marry?”
“A diamond of the first water,” Amelia promptly declared. “Whoever of the latest lot fills that description and is suitably connected. It’s what’s expected, after all. And, for once, Eversleigh seems intent on fulfilling expectations.”
Lenore nodded and sank into silence.
After a few moments, her expression pensive, her fingers pleating the ribbons of her gown, Amelia asked, “Tell me, do you know much of Mr. Marshall?”
The question drew Lenore from her own thoughts to gaze in surprise at her friend. “Just how long did it take to rescue him last night?”
Amelia blushed. “Well, I couldn’t just leave the poor man—he w
as parched for entertainment. Those Melton girls might be very pretty, but widgeons, my dear.”
Lenore’s lips twitched. “I thought you were here to avoid that sort of thing?”
Amelia looked pained. “I came here to avoid being pursued, Lenore. As far as I know, Frederick Marshall has never pursued a woman in his life.”
Putting her head on one side, Lenore acknowledged that truth. “I had heard that. Odd, given his association with Eversleigh.”
“Yes, but very refreshing.” Amelia slanted a glance at Lenore. “Tell me, Lenore, do you still cling to your ideal of a singular existence, without the complications of men?”
Lenore looked down, picking up her papers. “Certainly. It’s the only sensible course, given the strictures that rule our lives.” She glanced up briefly through her glasses. “I would have thought that you, of all people, would appreciate that.”
Amelia sighed, her gaze on the ceiling. “Oh, I know. But, just sometimes, I wonder. If one is not in the marketplace, one cannot buy. And if one is not…” Her brow creased as she sought for words. “If one does not put oneself in the way of love, however will it find you?”
“Love, as you well know, is not for us.”
“I know, I know. But don’t you sometimes dream?” Abruptly, Amelia swung about in her chair, fixing Lenore with an impish smile. “What happened to those dreams of yours—about being the prisoner of some evil ogre and locked in a tower guarded by a dragon only to be rescued by a tall and fearless knight errant?”
Lenore glanced up from her piles of receipts. “I long since realised that being held prisoner in some musty dungeon was likely to prove quite uncomfortable and that relying on being rescued was a mite risky, given the likelihood of my knight errant’s being distracted by a mill, or some such event, and forgetting to turn up.”
“Oh, Lenore!” Amelia sat back, pulling a disgusted face. After a moment, she said, “You know, I understand all your arguments, but I’ve never understood why you’re so convinced there’s no hope for us.”
Rules of Engagement: The Reasons for MarriageThe Wedding PartyUnlaced (Lester Family) Page 6