Lenore looked down, picking up her papers. Certainly. Its 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 dont you sometimes dream? Abruptly, Amelia swung about in her chair, fixing Lenore with an impish smile. What happened to those dreams of yoursabout 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 errants 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 Ive never understood why youre so convinced theres no hope for us.
Lenore paused in her sorting, eyes lifting to the peaceful scene beyond her window as memories of her mothers face, always trying to look so brave, filled her minds eye. Abruptly, she drew a curtain firmly across the vision. Looking down, she said, Lets just say that love among the ton is a sadly mismanaged affair. It afflicts only one sex, leaving them vulnerable to all sorts of hurts. You only have to listen to the tales of Harriets friends. How they bear such lives I do not know. I could never do so.
Amelia was frowning. You mean thethe emotional hurts? The pain of loving and not being loved in return?
Brusquely, without looking up, Lenore nodded.
Yes, but Amelias brow was furrowed as she wrestled with her meaning. If one does not take a chance and give ones love, one cannot expect to receive love in return. Which would be worseto never risk love and die never having known it, or to take a chance and, just possibly, come away with the prize?
For a long moment, Lenore gazed at Amelia, a frown deeply etched in her eyes. I suspect that depends on the odds of winning.
Which in turn depends on the man one loves. Silence descended in the small room, both occupants sunk deep in uneasy speculation. Then, in the distance, a gong clanged.
With a deep sigh, Amelia stood and shook out her skirts. She looked up and met Lenores gaze squarely. Lunch.
THAT EVENING, Lenore entered the drawing-room, her expression serene, her mind in a quandary. Instantly she was aware of Eversleigh, one of a group of guests on the other side of the room, chatting urbanely. Slipping into her accustomed role, she glided from group to group, playing the gracious hostess with effortless ease. Avoiding the group of which Eversleigh was a part, she came to rest beside Amelia, chatting animatedly with Frederick Marshall, the Melton sisters and two other gentlemen.
Oh, Miss Lester! I did so enjoy this afternoon! Lady Moffat, blue eyes bright, positively bubbled with innocent enthusiasm.
Im delighted you found so much to entertain you, Lenore replied. Lunch, an al fresco affair served beside the lake, had been voted a success by all who had attended. This had excluded the majority of the gentlemen, still busy at Harrys stud. Unfortunately, instead of settling to a quiet afternoon, gossiping or punting on the lake, some of the younger ladies had spied the archery butts, stored in the boat-house. Nothing would do but to stage an impromptu archery contest; Lenore had not had a minute to spare.
I was just explaining that the dancing this evening was to be entirely informal, Amelia said.
Lenore smiled, feeling infinitely more experienced in the face of the younger ladies overt eagerness. Just the house guests. The ball on Friday will be a much larger affair.
How positively exciting! Well both look forward to the event. Lady Harrison exchanged a bright glance with her sister.
Amelia shot a glance of long-suffering at Lenore, severely trying her composure.
The clang of the dinner gong, and Smithers stentorian, Dinner is served, recalled Lenore to an unresolved dilemma. Would Eversleigh take advantage of country party informality to sit elsewhere at table, leaving her to claim whoever she chose for the seat on her right?
Casting a surreptitious glance across the room, she saw her answer crossing the floor, his stride determined, his eyes on her. Quelling a sudden inner flutter, Lenore raised her head. Eversleigh paused by her side, his grey eyes smiling. With a graceful gesture, he offered her his arm. Shall we, Miss Lester?
Certainly, Your Grace. Lenore placed her fingertips upon his dark sleeve. As they headed for the door, her entire concentration was turned inward, to the task of subduing her skittering nerves and overcoming the odd breathlessness that had seized her.
Would it help if I promised not to bite?
The soft words, little more than a whisper in her ear, had Lenore looking upward in surprise. The expression in Eversleighs eyes, a not ungentle amusement, shook her precarious equanimity even more. It was all she could do to return a haughty look, turning her eyes forward, determined not to give him the satisfaction of knowing how grateful she was for his reassurance.
He was as good as his word, conversing amiably with Mrs. Whitticombe, who had claimed the place on his right, encouraging Lord Farningham to such an extent that, to Lenores experienced gaze, something close to hero-worship glowed in that young mans eyes. His Grace of Eversleigh could be utterly charming when he chose, but, to Lenores prickling senses, the powerful predator beneath the veneer, the presence that had made Lord Farningham so hesitant initially, was not asleep. He was merely in benevolent mood, watching, patient behind his grey eyes.
That evening, the gentlemen quit their port with alacrity, drawn to the drawing-room by the scrape of the violins, bows wielded with enthusiasm by five musicians installed in an alcove. Lenore was constantly on the move, encouraging the more timid of the ladies to join in, ensuring none of the gentlemen hung back. Despite her real liking for the pastime, she rarely danced herself, knowing how awkward most gentlemen found the exercise. She was too tall for even her brothers, only as tall as herself, to partner adequately in any measure beyond the formal quadrilles or cotillions. She was chatting to Mrs. Whitticombe, slightly flushed after a hectic boulanger, when she felt hard fingers close about her elbow.
A frisson of awareness informed her of who stood beside her even before she turned to meet his grey eyes.
Bestowing a charming if fleeting smile on Mrs. Whitticombe, Jason turned his gaze upon his hostess. Youre not dancing, Miss Lester. Can I tempt you to honour me with this waltz?
The invitation was uttered so smoothly that Lenore had smiled her acquiescence before her mind had analysed his words. Reasoning that dancing with Eversleigh, so tall, was too tempting a proposition to have passed up anyway, she allowed him to lead her to the cleared area of the floor.
Do you encounter much difficulty finding musicians hereabouts?
Effortlessly he swept her into the midst of the couples swirling under the light of the chandelier. N-no. Not usually. With an effort, Lenore focused her wayward wits. Dragging in a calming breath, she added, There are two market towns nearby. Both have musical societies, so we are rarely at a loss.
After a few revolutions, Lenore became reconciled to the sensation of floating. It was, she realised, simply because Eversleigh was so tall and so strong. As she relaxed, the joy of the dance took hold.
Watching her face, Jason had no need of words. You dance very well, Miss Lester, he eventually said, struck by the fact. She felt as light as thistledown in his arms, an ethereal sprite. The candlelight set gold winking in her hair; even her odd gown seemed part of the magic.
Thank you, Your Grace. Lenore kept her lids lowered, her eyes fixed on a point beyond his right shoulder, content to let the dance blunt her senses. Even so, she was supremely conscious of the strength in the arm circling her waist, of the firm clasp of his fingers on hers. Did you enjoy your tour of Harrys little enterprise?
Your brother keeps an excellent stud.
He has told me your own horses are very fine. Glancing up through her lashes, Lenore watched as a small contented smile softened the lines about her partners mouth. Then the arm around her waist tightened. The area near the door was congested with couples. As Eversleigh drew her more firmly to him before embarking on the tight turn, Lenore forced her mind to the music, letting it soothe her, blocking out the barrage of unnerving reactions assailing her senses. Only thus could she countenance such unlooked-for delight.
She was thoroughly disappointed when the dance came to an end.
Jasons smile was a little crooked as he looked down at her, her hand still clasped in his. I feel I should return you to your chaperon, my dear, but Im not sure I dare.
Recalling Harriets behaviour of the previous evening, Lenore had no hesitation in stating, I doubt that would be wise, Your Grace. Luckily, Im far beyond the age of having to bow to such altars.
To her surprise, Eversleighs gaze became sharper, his expression more hard. You are in error, Miss Lester. You may not be a débutante but you are a very long way from being on the shelf.
Lenore would have frowned and taken issue, assuming the comment to relate to their mornings discussion, but to her amazement Mr. Peters materialised before her.
If you would do me the honour, Miss Lester, I believe theyre starting up a country dance.
In consternation, Lenore stared at Mr. Peters bowing form. Eversleighs invitation had taken her by surprise; she had accepted without thought for the potential ramifications. As Mr. Peters straightened, a hopeful light in his eyes, the full weight of her role settled on Lenores shoulders. Pinning a smile to her lips, she looked over Mr. Peters head to where the sets were forming. With determination, she extended her hand. It would be a pleasure, sir.
A single glance to her left was sufficient to discern the amused glint in Eversleighs eyes. If youll excuse me, Your Grace?
As she straightened from her curtsy, Eversleighs gaze was on her face. He smiled; Lenore felt her heart quiver.
Hand over heart, Jason bowed elegantly. I wish you nothing but pleasure, my dear Miss Lester. His lips curving in appreciation, he watched as, head high, she glided away.
It was some hours later when he ran Frederick Marshall to earth. To Jasons shrewd gaze, his friend had developed a predilection for Lady Wallaces company.
Do you plan to remain for the entire week, Your Grace? Reassured by the presence of Mr. Marshall beside her, Amelia advanced her query, an expression of open innocence on her face.
Dispassionately, Jason studied the fair features turned up to him. Languidly, he raised one brow. That is my intention. Lifting his gaze to his friends face, he allowed his expression to relax. What say you, Frederick? Do you expect to find sufficient here to fix your peripatetic interest?
Frederick shot him a glare before Amelia turned her questioning face to him. I see no reason why we should not be tolerably amused for the duration.
Excellent. Having gained the declaration she sought, Amelia was all smiles. Ill look forward to your company, sirs. But I really must have a word to Lady Henslawif youll excuse me, Mr. Marshall? Your Grace? With an artful nod, Amelia left them.
Jason followed her progress towards Lady Henslaw, then turned to see Frederick, similarly engaged. Let us hope Lady Wallace does not favour purple.
What? Frederick turned to him, then glared as his meaning became clear. Dash it, Jason. Its no such thing. Lady Wallace is merely a means to pass the timea sensible woman with whom one may have a conversation without being expected to sweep her off her feet.
Ah. Jason nodded sagely. I see.
Frederick ignored him. Speaking of sweeping women off their feetthat waltz you so obviously enjoyed with Miss Lester? Permit me to tell you, not that you dont already know, that it fell just short of indecent.
A subtle smile curved Jasons lips as he stood, looking out over the dancers. My only defence is the obviousshe enjoyed it, too. Shes unquestionably the most graceful woman Ive ever partnered.
Yes, and now the whole company knows it. Do you think shell thank you for the rest of her evening?
That, I had not anticipated. Jason glanced at Frederick, a glint in his eye. Fear not. I shall come about. Apropos of which, I wanted to ask if you have heard any whispers of my impending fate?
I have, as a matter of fact. Frederick continued to study the dancers, his gaze following Lady Wallaces bright curls. From what I can gather, most who have come direct from town have heard something of your intentions.
Beneath his breath, Jason swore.
Frederick turned, surprise in his eyes. Does that concern you? It was inevitable, after all.
Grimacing, Jason replied, I would rather it was not common knowledge but I doubt itll seriously affect the outcome. Narrowing his eyes, he mused, However, I will, I suspect, have to expend rather more thought on the correct approach to my problem.
Noting the direction of his friends gaze, Frederick asked, I take it you have fixed on Miss Lester?
Does that surprise you? Jason murmured, his attention still on her fair head.
Considering that waltz, and all that it had revealed, Frederick shrugged. Not entirely. But where lies your problem?
The lady has set her mind against marriage.
A paroxysm of coughing had Frederick turning aside. I beg your pardon? he asked, as soon as he was able.
Jasons eyes narrowed. You heard. But if you imagine Ill pass over the only woman Ive ever met who meets my stringent criteria, you and Miss Lester will have to think again.
A MILL IN THE neighbourhood combined with the aftereffects of the evening before relieved Lenore of many of her charges for much of the next day. With the gentlemen absent, the ladies were content to rest and recuperate. After officiating at a light luncheon, Lenore found her afternoon loomed blissfully free. She decided to devote the time to her neglected studies.
The library was a haven of peace in the large house. Located in the oldest wing, the stone flag kept the temperature pleasant even in the hottest of weather. Finding the room empty, Lenore threw open the heavy diamond-paned windows, and let the warm breeze, laden with the scents of summer, dance in. Her large desk, set between two windows, faced the door. Dragging in an invigorating breath, Lenore sat down and drew the tome she had been studying towards her. Hands clasped on the leather cover, she paused, eyes fixed, unseeing, on the far wall.