The look Eversleigh directed at her was unfathomable but he replied readily enough.
It is rather large. The original abbey dates to just after the Conquest but my family has made numerous additions over the years. What remains might best be described as a semi-Gothic pile, complete with ruined cloisters.
No ghost?
Lenore bit her tongue, steeling herself for his rejoinder. A skeleton or two in the cupboard, perhaps?
Manfully, Jason resisted temptation. Sorrowfully, he shook his head. Not even a wraith, Im afraid.
Letting out the breath she had held, Lenore inclined her head and opted for caution in the person of Lord Farningham. Lady Henslaw, seated beside Eversleigh, claimed his attention. As the second course was laid before them, Lord Farningham turned the talk to horses. Mentally, Lenore sat back, pleased to see her father and Aunt Harriet both coping well. Taking a moment to cast her eye over the company, she saw that all was proceeding smoothly. Her staff was experienced; the meal was served and cleared and glasses filled with a minimum of fuss.
She was turning back to the conversation when a commotion in the hall drew all attention. Smithers immediately went out, to return a moment later to hold open the door. Amelia, Lady Wallace, Lenores cousin, hesitantly entered, her companion, Mrs. Smythe, trailing in her wake.
Jack rose. With a murmured, Excuse me, Lenore put her napkin aside and went forward.
Hello, Jack. Lenore. Amelia bestowed her hand on Jack and exchanged an affectionate kiss with Lenore. Im sorry to arrive so late but one of our horses went lame. Shielded from the table, Amelia grimaced up at them. And I had no idea this was one of your weeks.
With a brotherly smile, Jack squeezed her hand. No matter, mdear. Youre always welcome.
Lenore smiled her agreement. Dont worry. You can keep me company. Ill put you near Papa until you get your bearings.
Yes, please, Amelia returned, blonde ringlets bobbing as she exchanged nods with those of the company already known to her.
While Jack played the gallant host, Lenore oversaw insertion of another leaf at the head of the huge table. Once Amelia and Mrs. Smythe were installed, Lenore paused to tell Smithers, Her ladyship in the rose room, with Mrs. Smythe in the room further down the hall.
Smithers nodded and departed.
Lenore returned to her seat, idly wondering what brought Amelia, now widowed, to Berkshire. Picking up her fork, she glanced up to find Eversleigh, his chair pushed slightly back from the table, his long fingers crooked about the stem of his goblet, watching her, an entirely unreadable expression in his eyes. Lenore frowned in what she hoped was a quelling manner.
Jasons pensive attitude dissolved as he smiled, raising his glass in silent toast. He toyed with the idea of informing his hostess that the ability to remain unflustered in the face of the unexpected was a talent he felt certain his wife should possess. His smile deepened as he wondered what she would answer to that.
After one long look at Eversleighs peculiarly unnerving smile, Lenore determinedly turned to Lord Farningham, irritatingly aware that, if she allowed herself the liberty she could easily spend the entire meal staring at the fascinating face beside her.
Reluctantly, mindful of his true aim, Jason devoted himself impartially to Lady Henslaw and the others about for the remainder of the meal.
At the conclusion of the last course, an array of jellies, custards and trifles interspersed with dishes of sweetmeats, Lenore collected Aunt Harriet and led the ladies from the room. As she crossed the front hall, she made a firm resolution that she would not again allow Eversleigh to unsettle her.
Shameless hussy! That one dresses in pink silk and thinks we cant see through it. A good deal less than she ought to be, mark my words!
Her aunts scathing comments, delivered in a highly audible hiss, shook Lenore from her thoughts. She had no difficulty following Harriets train of thoughtMrs. Cronwell, thankfully some way behind them, was resplendent in lurid pink silk, the low neckline of her clinging gown trimmed with ostrich feathers. Knowing she was safe, Lenore noddedit was pointless disagreeing. Virtually completely deaf, Harriet could not be brought to believe that her animadversions, perfectly audible to any within a radius of ten feet, were anything more than the merest whispers. Following her erstwhile chaperon across the room, Lenore helped Harriet, grey-haired and stooped, to settle her purple skirts in her favourite chair a little removed from the fireplace.
Seeing her aunt pull her tatting from a bag beside the chair and start to untangle the bobbins, Lenore placed a hand on her arm and slowly stated, Ill bring you some tea when the trolley arrives.
Harriet nodded and returned to her craft. Lenore left her, hoping she would not become bored and start musing, aloud, on the guests.
Despite the presence of some women she could not in all conscience call friends, Lenore moved easily through the bevy of bright dresses, scattered like jewels about the large room. She had long ago perfected the art of graciously acknowledging those she did not wish to encourage, leaving them a little puzzled by her serene acceptance of their presence. To those who were her social peers she acted the hostess in truth, listening to their gossip, complimenting them on their gowns. It was in gatherings such as this that she learned much of what was transpiring beyond the gates of Lester Hall.
Tonight, however, once she had done her duty and gone the rounds, she gravitated to her cousins side, intent on learning why Amelia had so unexpectedly arrived.
It was Rothesay. Amelia made a moue of distaste. Hes been positively hunting me, Lenore.
Standing by the side of the room, out of earshot of the company, Lenore sent Amelia a commiserating glance. I take it the viscount is to be numbered among those gentlemen who have difficulty in understanding the word no?
Amelia frowned. Its not so much a matter of his understanding as a sad lack of imagination. I do believe that he simply cannot credit the fact that any lady would refuse him.
Lenore swallowed a snort. At sixteen, Amelia had dutifully acceded to her parents wishes and married a man forty years her senior. Widowed at the age of twenty-three, left with a respectable jointure and no protector, she was ripe game for the wolves of the ton. Determined not to be pressured into another loveless union, Amelia spent her days endeavouring to avoid a union of less respectable state. The gentlemen of the ton, however, had yet to accept the fact that the widowed Lady Wallace felt in no pressing need of male protection.
Fleeing London and the importunings of Lord Rothesay, Amelia had come first to her relatives in Berkshire. Im sure a few months will be sufficient to cool Rothesays ardour. I had planned to go to stay with Aunt Mary but she wont be back in Bath before the end of the month. Amelia scanned the crowd, swelling as the gentlemen strolled in, forsaking their port for feminine company.
As Jack said, youre always welcome here. When Amelia continued to consider the gentlemen as they strolled through the door, Lenore asked, There is none here who has caused you any bother, is there?
No. Amelia shook her head. I was just checking for any potential problems. Linking arms with Lenore, she smiled up at her. Dont fret. Im sure Ill manage to survive Jack and Harrys crowd. They all seem to be well-heeled enough not to need my money and well-mannered enough to accept a dismissal. I must say, though, that Im surprised to see Eversleigh here.
Oh? Conscious of a sharp stab of curiosity, Lenore strolled beside Amelia. Why so?
I had heard, Amelia said, lowering her voice conspiratorially, that hes decided to marry. Id have thought hed be playing host to a collection of the fairest debs and their doting mamas at Eversleigh Abbey, rather than enjoying the delights of one of your brothers little gatherings.
Aware of a sunken sinking feeling, Lenore resisted the compulsion to turn and look for Eversleigh in the crowd. I hadnt considered him the marrying sort, somehow.
Exactly so! The story is that he had no intention of succumbing. His brother was to keep the line going. But hethe brother, I meanwas killed at Waterloo. So now Eversleigh must make the ultimate sacrifice.
Lenores lips twitched. I wonder if he considers it in that light?
Undoubtedly, Amelia averred. Hes a rake, isnt he? Anyway, from everything Ive heard and seen, its the poor soul he takes to wife who deserves our pity. Eversleighs a handsome devil and can be utterly charming when the mood takes him. It would be hard work to remain aloof from all that masculine appeal. Unfortunately, His Grace is reputed to be impervious to the softer emotions, one of the old school in that regard. I cant see him falling a victim to Cupid and reforming. His poor wife will probably end in thrall and have her heart broken.
Brows rising, Lenore considered Amelias prediction. Charming was not the word she would have chosen to describe Eversleigh; the power he wielded was far stronger than mere charm. Suppressing an odd shiver, she decided that, all in all, Amelia was right. The future Lady Eversleigh was to be sincerely pitied.
Leaving her cousin with Lady Henslaw, Lenore paused by the side of the room. Under pretext of straightening the upstanding collar of her chemisette, she glanced about, eventually locating Eversleigh conversing with her father, ensconced in his chair by the fireplace. The sight brought a frown to Lenores eyes. Listening to her fathers reminiscences seemed an unlikely joy for a man of Eversleighs tastes. Still, she was hardly an expert on what a gentleman recently determined on marriage might find entertaining. Shrugging the point aside, she embarked on an ambling progress about the room, providing introductions, ensuring the conversation flowed easily, and keeping a watchful eye on some of the more vulnerable ladies. Two such innocents were the Melton sisters, Lady Harrison and Lady Moffat, whom she discovered under determined seige from a trio of gentlemen.
Good evening, Lord Scoresby. Lenore smiled sweetly at his lordship.
Forced to take her hand, thus relieving Lady Moffat of his far too close attention, his lordship murmured a greeting.
I hear you have recently set up your town house, Lady Moffat? Lenore smiled encouragingly at the young matron.
Lady Moffat grabbed her branch like a woman sinking, blithely describing all aspects of her new household. Lenore artfully drew Lady Harrison into the safety of the conversation. Within five minutes she had the satisfaction of seeing both Lord Scoresby and Mr. Marmaluke nod and drift away, vanquished by wallpaper patterns and upholstery designs. But Mr. Buttercombe was only dislodged when Frederick Marshall strolled up.
I hear the Pantheon bazaar is very useful for all the knick-knacks you ladies enjoy scattering about the place.
Lenore was sure neither young woman noticed the twinkle in Frederick Marshalls eyes, but, seeing the way the sisters responded to his easy address, she was too grateful for his assistance to quibble. He was one of the more easygoing of the gentlemen present and seemed amenable to playing the role of gallant to their ladyships innocence.
Seeing Smithers pushing the large tea-trolley in, Lenore excused herself and crossed the room to perform her last duty of the evening. Rather than station the trolley by the fireplace, her normal habit, she had Smithers place it between two sets of long windows, presently open to the terrace. With Eversleigh still by her fathers chair, the area around the fireplace was likely to prove too hot for her sensibilities.
She had no trouble distributing the teacups, commandeering gentlemen at will. However, she took Harriets cup herself, not liking to lumber anyone else with the task. One never knew how Harriet would react.
Thank you, dear, Harriet boomed. Lenore winced and settled the cup on a small table by her aunts side, confident that by now most of the guests must have realised her aunts affliction. She turned to leaveand found herself face to face with His Grace of Eversleigh.
My dear Miss Lesterno teacup? Jason smiled, pleased that his calculated wait by her fathers side had paid the desired dividend.
Lenore told herself she had no reason to quiver like a schoolgirl. Ive already had a cup, Your Grace.
Excellent. Then, as youve already dispensed enough cups to supply the company, perhaps youll consent to a stroll about the room?
The with me was said with his eyes. Lenore stared up into their grey depths and wished she could fathom why they were so hypnotic. Perhaps, if she understood their attraction, she would be better able to counter it?
Just like his father! Forever after lifting some womans skirts. Not that hell get any joy from Lenore. Far too knowing, she is. Harriet snorted. Too knowing for her own good, I sometimes think.
Lenores cheeks crimsoned with embarrassment. Glancing about, she saw that no one else was close, no one else had heard her aunts horrendous pronouncements. No one except their primary subject. Drawing a deep breath, she raised her eyes fleetingly to his. Your Grace, I beg youll excuse my aunt. Shes She foundered to an awkward halt.
A rumbling chuckle came from beside her.
My dear Miss Lester, Im hardly the type to take offence over such a minor transgression.
Lenore could have wilted with relief.
However, Jason continued, seizing the opportunity fate had so thoughtfully provided, I suggest we quit this locality before your esteemed aunt is further stimulated by our presence.
Difficult to counter that argument, Lenore thought, giving conscious effort to maintaining her calm smile as she permitted Eversleigh to place her hand on his sleeve and lead her away from the fireplace. As she fell into step beside him, she saw her aunts maid Janet and her fathers valet Moreton slip into the room. As soon as her father and his sister had finished their tea, it was their invariable custom to retire. Mr. Pritchard would have already gone up. Given what she sensed of the mood of the guests, Lenore felt her own departure would not long be delayed. Catching sight of the Ladies Moffat and Harrison, still under the wing of Frederick Marshall, she decided to drop them a hint.
She attempted to veer in their direction, but her escort prevented her, trapping her hand on his sleeve and raising his brows in mute question.
I should just like a word with Lady Harrison, Your Grace. Lenore seasoned her request with a smile and was surprised to see her companion shake his head.
Not a good idea, Im afraid.
When she stared blankly at him, Jason explained, I fear I make Lady Harrison and Lady Moffat somewhat nervous.
Lenore decided she could hardly blame them. Waspishly, she replied, If you were to suppress your tendency to flirt, my lord, I dare say they would manage.
Flirt? Jason turned his gaze full upon her. My dear Miss Lester, you have that entirely wrong. Gentlemen such as I never flirt. The word suggests a frivolous intent. My intentions, Ill have you know, are always deadly serious.