Reading his friend’s mind with ease, Jason helpfully explained, “She left her pinafores at Lester Hall.”
Bending a glance both haughty and innocent upon him, Lenore asked, “I do hope, Your Grace, that you’re not missing them? Perhaps I should send for them, if it would please you?”
Jason was too old a hand to be rolled up so easily. His lips curved appreciatively, his grey eyes gleamed. “I’d be only too pleased to discuss what you might do to please me, my dear. Naturally, I’m delighted that you seek to make my pleasure your paramount concern.”
Any possibility that his speech was uttered in innocence was rendered ineligible by the expression in his eyes. Caught in his web once more, Lenore turned hot, then cold, then hot once more. With an effort, she dragged her gaze from his, glancing at Frederick but with little hope of rescue.
She had, however, underestimated Frederick. More used to Jason’s ways than she, he sent his friend a stern glance before enquiring, “Have you weathered the Montgomery clan, then? They’re somewhat daunting, are they not?”
Lenore grasped the unexpected lifeline, applying herself to a discussion of her fiancé’s huge family, thereby, she later realised, punishing him most effectively.
It was not long afterwards that Agatha caught up with them. “If you want my opinion, we should leave now. Best not to give them time to grow too accustomed—keeps their interest up, y’know?”
Jason, his eyes flicking over Lenore’s radiant face and seeing the increasing weariness behind her polished mask, inclined his head. “I bow to your greater experience of such matters, dear aunt.”
The carriage was summoned; they took their leave of their hostess, Lenore and Agatha receiving an invitation to take tea the following Tuesday.
Ensconced in the carriage, wrapped up in her cloak once more, Lenore sighed as the flambeau lighting the Attlebridge House steps fell behind, her evening’s hurdles successfully overcome.
Seated opposite, Jason watched the shadows wreath her face. He smiled. “Well, my dear. Was the ordeal as bad as you had feared?”
Lenore straightened. “Why, no, my lord.” She turned to face him fully, rearranging the folds of her cloak. Remembering his requirements of a bride, she added, “I don’t believe I will find any real difficulty in either attending or hosting such entertainments.”
Jason inclined his head, a frown gathering in his eyes.
“Lady Mulhouse invited us to her rout next week.” Lenore turned to Agatha. “And Mrs. Scotridge asked us to tea.”
Agatha heaved a contented sigh. “Ah, me! I’d almost forgotten what it’s like to be in the eye of the storm. Despite the fact that it’s the tag-end of the Season, I dare say life will be hectic for the next few weeks.”
Eyes narrowing, Jason watched his aunt stifle a yawn. If nothing else had been achieved at his aunt Attlebridge’s ball, the occasion had demonstrated that in her new incarnation Lenore held a potent attraction for the p
rowling males of the ton. No less than five fascinated acquaintances had stopped by his side to remark on her beauty. Placing an elbow on the carriage windowsill, Jason leant his chin on his fist and stared, unseeing, at the passing façades.
After some moments, he shifted his gaze to the object of his thoughts, sitting serene and content only feet away, her face intermittently lit by the street-lamps as she watched the houses slip past. The wheels rang on the cobblestones as he pondered his problem, his gaze fixed, unwaveringly, on the face of his bride-to-be.
As the carriage slowed for the turn into Green Street, Jason stirred. “If tomorrow is fine, perhaps you’d care to drive to Merton with me? My great-aunt Elmira lives there; she’s an invalid and will be unable to attend our wedding but she’s an avid gossip and will be livid not to have met you.”
He ignored Agatha’s stunned stare, his attention on Lenore.
Lenore brightened, her spirits lifting at the thought of a drive in the country. Fresh country air was something she was already missing, although she had no intentions of admitting to such weakness. “I’d be delighted to accompany you, my lord.” She smiled, feeling as if the final cachet had been added to her evening. “I would not have it thought that we were in any way backward with our attentions to your family.”
“You need have no fear of that,” Jason returned somewhat ascerbically. “My family, as you will learn, would never permit it.”
As the carriage slowed before his aunt’s house, Jason allowed himself a small, self-deprecatory smile. The course he had just set his feet upon was not one he would, of his own volition, have followed. However, given that his peace for the rest of his life might depend on the outcome, three weeks of his time seemed a small price to pay.
* * *
FOR LENORE, the weeks following the announcement of their betrothal passed in a constant whirl. Visits were crammed between engagements of every conceivable sort—balls, parties, routs, drums. The obligatory appearance at Almack’s was accomplished; she was greatly disappointed by the bare rooms and the refreshments she had no hesitation in stigmatising as meagre. Also wedged between ton-ish dissipations was a reunion with Amelia; her cousin agreed to act as matron of honour and was duly introduced to Lafarge to be fitted for her gown. Lenore had two fittings of her wedding gown and the severely cut maroon velvet carriage dress she would wear on her departure from the wedding breakfast, all squeezed into her last hectic week. The only periods of calm in her disordered world were those she spent with Eversleigh.
She had initially been surprised to find him assiduous in his attendance upon her, dutifully escorting his aunt and herself to every evening engagement, frequently taking her driving in the Park, arranging an evening at the theatre to see Keane, always by her side whenever the occasion permitted. He also organised outings which took her out of the bustle of the ton, for which she was more grateful than she felt it wise to reveal. They drove in Richmond Park and visited numerous beauty spots. He took her for a tour around London in his curricle, pointing out the sights the guide-books acclaimed, walking with her in St Paul’s and along the leafy avenues by the river.
When, however, unnerved by her response to his continuing thoughtfulness, to the sense of protection she felt when he was by her side, she had hesitantly commented to Agatha on the unexpectedness of his constancy, her mentor had dismissed the point with an airy wave. “Hardly surprising. Never a fool, Jason.”
The cryptic comment did nothing to ease Lenore’s inner wariness; as the days passed, it grew, along with a suspicion that her fears of marriage were well on the way to being realised.
And then, before she had time to come to grips with her affliction, her wedding eve was upon her.
* * *