“However,” Jason said, letting his sudden tension seep away. He looked down, examining the signet on his right hand. “If we are on the subject of apologies, you have my very humblest, Lenore, for the shock you were subjected to last night. It was not my intention that any announcement be made. I had merely asked your father for permission to pay my address to you in form.” He looked up as he spoke, capturing her eyes with his, willing her to understand. “I think, somehow, he misunderstood.”
The sincerity in his tone, in the grey of his eyes, the look which was, she suspected, as close to beseeching as he would ever get, shook Lenore. Breathless all over again, she swung her gaze away, out of the window, to the weeping cherry gracing the lawn. “He does that, I’m afraid. He hears only the words he wishes to hear and disregards the rest.”
That was the truth. Her father was the worst sort of manipulator—had been for years. But it was the revelation that Eversleigh had not sought to conspire with her sire behind her back that shook Lenore to her very soul. Unfortunately, having her reading of his character thus confirmed did not make the task before her any easier. Drawing a determined breath, she hurried on. “However, even though we might agree that neither of us is to blame for the predicament we now find ourselves in, there is still that very predicament to be faced.”
“Which predicament is that?”
Lenore turned to face him only to find his expression improbably bland. Her eyes narrowed. “To all intents and purposes, Your Grace, we are betrothed. Everyone who attended last night believes that to be so.”
Jason merely nodded, watching her closely.
Her worries flooding back, Lenore drew herself up, pressing her hands tightly together, crushing the front of her skirt. “My lord, I would ask you to release me from this…this unforeseen contract.”
Jason’s stern expression returned; Lenore’s heart quavered.
“That, my dear, would be very difficult to do.”
“But you could do it—we could say we were mistaken.”
Jason’s winged brows rose. “But I’m not mistaken.” Lenore allowed her exasperation at that arrogant statement to show. Jason disregarded it, straightening away from the window-frame. “Even if I were prepared to allow you to waste your life here—”
“I am not wasting my life!”
“With old civilisations?” A contemptuous wave indicated her desk. “You have a life to live, Lenore. You must live it in the present, not the past.”
“I have plenty to occupy my present, Your Grace.”
“Jason. And if you’re referring to your position as chatelaine of Lester Hall,” Jason said, advancing to stand in front of her, “how long do you think that will last once Jack weds?”
Her face told him all. Lenore stared up at him, her expression utterly blank. “Jack…” She blinked, struggling to bring the idea more firmly into focus.
“It comes to us all.” The statement held more than a hint of irony. When Lenore remained silent, Jason added more gently. “You cannot expect to remain in your position of eminence here, my dear.”
It was a major effort to wrench her mind about to view her life from a different perspective, but, once she had done so, Lenore felt utterly defeated. She had concentrated for so long on getting her present established as she wished, she had overlooked the future. And her brothers, of course, had never encouraged anyone to think of their marrying.
“If you’ll consider the matter, my dear, I think you’ll see that marriage to me will assure you of the position, the status, you deserve.”
Jason studied her face, then continued, his words softly seductive. “I need you far more than the Lesters, Lenore.” A little staggered by how truthful he was being, he quickly added, “Besides the Abbey, which, God knows, is large enough to house a brigade and frequently does, there’s the London houses, as well as minor estates in Leicestershire, Northumberland and Cornwall.”
Her gaze abstracted, a frown tangling her brows, Lenore shifted restlessly, casting a troubled glance up at him. “I can understand why your aunts wish you to wed, Your Grace.”
“Jason.” Jason paused, then carefully played his trump card. “Besides, you wouldn’t want to destroy your father’s peace of mind.” Instantly, he knew he had struck true. Lenore looked up, her expression revealing her suspicions. Relentlessly, Jason pressed his advantage home, his eyes, deadly serious, holding hers. “My offer lifted a great weight from his shoulders. He has worried about you, and your future, for years. From what he let fall, our betrothal will greatly ease your aunt’s mind, too. Apparently, she’s felt responsible for your state, imagining herself to have failed in imbuing you with suitable sentiments.”
“No!” Lenore was appalled. Vehemently, she shook her head. “I decided what I wanted to do. It was no fault of theirs.”
“That may be so, but you cannot deny their concern for your welfare.”
“But…” Raising a hand to brush back a wisp of hair, Lenore felt the web of her situation closing about her. Distractedly she looked up, into the calm of Eversleigh’s eyes.
Moved by an emotion she was not at all pleased to have to acknowledge, invoked by the helpless look in her eyes, Jason, with the greatest reluctance, chanced his all on one last throw. “My dear, if you can give me one sane, rational reason why we should not wed, I’ll do what I can to dissolve our betrothal.”
Lenore’s mind jumped at the offer, even if her emotions lagged behind. Her eyes brightened, only to dim as the truth of her position sank in. She stared up into his eyes, confirming that the offer was indeed genuine, that he was giving her an opportunity to save her heart.
She couldn’t take it.
No lady or gentleman of her class would consider her fear of being hurt, of giving and receiving nothing in return, her very fear of loving, to be a sane and rational reason, not in any circumstances. And how could she dash her father’s joy? For she had seen it clearly, had not needed Eversleigh to tell her how proud and relieved her parent had been. There was, as she had feared in the dark of last night, no escape.
Swallowing, Lenore allowed the past to slip away, jettisoning her image of her future and, knowing there was no alternative, she allowed his image to fill the void. Dropping her gaze, she stared at her linked hands. “I have no reason to advance, Your Grace.”
She missed the sudden easing of tension in Jason’s shoulders as he let out the breath he had been holding. “Jason,” he corrected softly. Her reluctance, he knew, stemmed from some peculiar female fear. He would lay it to rest—once she was his.
Lenore looked up, then, slowly, inclined her head, letting her lashes fall. “Jason.”
For a moment, all was still. No sound broke the silence bar the cooing of doves from beneath the window and the shrill call of starlings in the cherry tree. Lenore felt the odd tension that held them. Nervous of where it might lead, she shook her shoulders and straightened, raising her head to look out of the window once more. “Given that it seems we are to wed, Your Grace—Jason,” she amended, “I would like to know what you expect of me—precisely why you have determined that I am to be the next Duchess of Eversleigh.”
Jason frowned. “I’m certain you’ll fulfil the demands of that role admirably, my dear.”
“Be that as it may, I should like to know precisely what duties you believe that role to encompass.” Lenore kept her gaze on the cherry tree, knowing without looking that he was wearing his forbidding expression.
Jason eyed her profile. He did not like her question but relief at her acceptance of his suit prompted him to answer. Having considered the matter so frequently in recent days, his reasons for marriage were crystal-clear in his mind. He omitted his first stipulation. After their interlude of the previous afternoon, he needed no further confirmation of her state. Only a virgin could have responded so…so… Ab
ruptly, he hauled his mind away from that track. “As a wife, I need a woman of breeding who can act as my hostess, someone with the requisite talents and experience to run a large household and to officiate at both formal and large family gatherings.” Jason forced himself to step back, leaning against the window-frame, folding his arms against temptation. “I do not need a giddy miss, more intent on her own enjoyment than solicitous of her guests’ welfare. You, on the other hand, have impeccable credentials in that area.”
Lenore inclined her head. “What sort of entertainments do you generally hold at the Abbey?”
Jason told her, watching her reactions, elaborating freely when he saw she was inclined to interest. After outlining the huge family gatherings held at Christmas and occasionally in summer, and the numerous estate and country events held in the house or grounds, he described the Abbey in more detail, the number of guest-chambers and reception-rooms, the current levels of staffing, as far as he remembered them. Lenore asked questions, which he answered as best he could, eventually admitting, “The Abbey has been without a chatelaine for more than ten years. You’ll find much that needs your attention.”
Lenore eyed him straightly. “And I’ll have a free hand in all household matters?”
A charming smile answered her. “I’ll leave all such affairs in your capable hands. My steward, Hemmings, and my secretary, Compton, will assist you as you desire. The management of estate business, however, will remain in my hands.”
Graciously, Lenore inclined her head. “I have no wish to interfere in such areas. Tell me, do you have any schemes for assisting your labourers, your tenants and their families?”
Jason shook his head. “As I said, you’ll find much to keep you occupied. Without a lady of the house to oversee such enterprises, they tend to be put aside.”
“But I’d have your support to institute such measures as I felt were justified?”
“Provided they met with my approval.”
Lenore studied him, then decided the caveat was acceptable. Nodding, she broached the subject on which she expected less success. “Will you expect me to spend much time in London?”
Despite her even tone, Jason detected her unease. He remembered their discussion in the maze; she did not expect to enjoy life in London. The fact should have cemented his triumph. Instead, to his surprise, he heard himself say, “I usually spend all of the Season and the Little Season in town. While I would not wish you to remain at Eversleigh House if I was not in residence, I’d urge you to experience life in the capital before you turn your back on it.” He saw her eyes cloud and hastened to add, “However, if, after you’ve tried them, you find the balls and parties not to your taste, I’ll raise no demur to your remaining principally at the Abbey, provided you agree to journey to London should I require your presence.” He made the concession with reluctance, hoping very much that she would find sufficient interest in the hurly-burly of ton-ish entertainments to keep her by his side.
His offer was a great deal more than Lenore had expected. “So—I’m to be your hostess, and take responsibility for the management of your houses. And if I find London unamusing, I may retire to the country.” All in all, the position was not without attraction. For one of her skills, the challenge of rejuvenating Eversleigh Abbey was a potent lure.
Jason nodded. “There is, of course, the matter of the succession.”
Lenore switched her gaze away from his, suddenly finding the cherry tree utterly captivating. “I comprehend that you require an heir, Your Grace.”
“Jason. And it’s heirs.” Lenore shot him a nervous glance. “Plural,” Jason added, just to set the matter straight. “As things stand, if I were to die without issue, the title and all my estates would devolve to a distant cousin. The main line has certainly been sufficiently fecund but, unfortunately, the majority of children have been female. I’m the only duke since the first to have had a brother. At present, the next male in line is many times removed and has had no training in either estate management, in the involved politics of a large and wealthy family nor, I’m sad to say, even in how to comport himself with sufficient dignity to carry the role.” He paused, sensing that she was listening intently despite her refusal to look at him. “Consequently, I’m keen to ensure the title remains with my branch of the family.”
Not knowing what else to do, Lenore nodded. “I understand.” Her voice sounded strained, the relief of moments before clouded by realisation of the other side of the coin. She held severe reservations over her ability to deal with Eversleigh on a personal level without falling in love with him. Yesterday had been an eye-opening experience on more than one front. But she had no choice but to take a chance—to risk falling victim to the vulnerability that afflicted her sex. She would try very hard to keep her distance, but…
“And those are the reasons which prompt you to marry me?” The question was out before she could stop it. Lenore bit her lip and waited.
Jason hesitated, then, his lips firming against an unnerving impulse to say more, he nodded. “Yes.”
What had she expected? Lenore suppressed the small, sharp pang of disappointment that twisted through her. At least he had dealt openly with her; now she knew where she stood.
Clearing her throat, she focused her mind on more concrete problems. “Do you have any strong preference for when we should wed, Your—Jason?”
Greatly relieved to hear that question on her lips, Jason answered without reservation. “As soon as possible, which means in four weeks.”
“Four weeks!” Lenore deserted the cherry tree to round on him. “We can’t possibly be married in four weeks.”
One winged brow rose. “Why not?”
Aghast, Lenore stared at him. She had imagined she would have months to come to terms with her new situation. Four weeks was not nearly long enough to strengthen her defences. “Because…because…” Abruptly, she took refuge in anger. “Because you cannot simply decide such matters and expect me to meekly agree.”
Jason frowned. “‘Meek’ is not a word I would use in conjunction with your fair self, my dear. If you would come down out of the boughs for long enough to examine my circumstances, you would see why any delay is to be avoided.”
Puzzled, Lenore looked her question.
Rapidly, Jason formulated an answer, rejecting out of hand any idea of telling her the truth. “As you know, the notion that I intend to wed is currently circulating among the ton. If I return to London without our imminent wedding as protection, I’m likely to be mobbed by matchmaking mamas, seeking to convince me to change my mind and marry their witless daughters instead.”
The vision of hordes of matrons, plumes aquiver, lying in wait to pound on him made Lenore’s lips twitch. Jason saw it and pounced on her instead.
“It’s no laughing matter, I assure you. I was hounded for years when I was younger; you wouldn’t believe some of the stratagems the harpies employed.”
Lenore arched one brow sceptically. “Why am I so convinced you would survive even their latest manoeuvres unscathed?”
Jason threw her a warning look. “Anyway, at our respective ages, no one will think marrying in four weeks the least odd.”
Lenore had her doubts but held her tongue. If marrying Eversleigh was to be her fate, and as he was so set on it, she might as well face it in four weeks as four months. Perhaps, with less time, she would not get so nervous over those duties she had not before performed.
“Your father has agreed,” Jason continued, watching her more carefully. “We’ll be married in Salisbury Cathedral. One of my father’s cousins is the present bishop—my family have a long association with the bishopric. Jack and I will handle the arrangements. Harry and Gerald will travel with your aunt and father to Salisbury.”
Struck dumb, Lenore simply stared.
After an instant’s hesi
tation, Jason embarked on his plans for her. “We assumed you’d wish to use the time to refurbish your wardrobe. Jack has agreed to stay back until Tuesday. He’ll escort you to town then. As your aunt cannot act as chaperon, my aunt, Lady Agatha Colebatch, will perform that duty. I believe you’re acquainted with her?”
Stunned, overwhelmed, Lenore nodded. “She’s one of Aunt Harriet’s oldest friends.”
“Good. I don’t think she’s in town at present. It may take me a day or two to track her down. She’ll know which modiste to take you to. As I’ve persuaded your father to allow me to foot the bill, you may order what you please.”
Lenore blinked. “But…but that’s not…”
Jason waved one hand dismissively. “Your father and Jack have agreed.”
Beyond amazed, Lenore stared up at him. “Tell me, do you always organise people’s lives for them?”
Cool superiority met her gaze. “When they need organising and I wish to achieve some goal, yes.” Jason watched as she swallowed that piece of arrogance, hoping he had distracted her sufficiently from the question of who was financially responsible for her trousseau. He had had to argue long and hard to wring that concession from the Lester men; only their inability to give him an assurance that Lenore would not appear in London in pinafores had forced them to accede to his odd request.
Unconvinced that he was not engaged in some sleight of hand but unable to see any motive beyond his obvious wish to get their marriage over and done with, an unsurprising reaction given that he had been driven to the altar as it were, Lenore sighed. Slanting him a glance from beneath her lashes, she saw he was waiting for some sign of her capitulation. Inwardly grimacing, she raised her head. “As we have agreed to marry, and as you clearly wish it so, I’ll agree to marry you in four weeks, Your Grace.”
Jason flashed her a brilliant smile. Lenore felt a slight blush rise to her cheeks. Seeing it, Jason’s smile deepened. He straightened and moved closer.
Rules of Engagement: The Reasons for MarriageThe Wedding PartyUnlaced (Lester Family) Page 13