Lenore looked up, startled by the sincerity ringing in his tone. “Oh…I mean, yes. That is…” Lenore faltered to a stop, nonplussed. She could hardly tell him it was not entirely her doing—he would laugh at her. Instead, she took a deep breath and, holding her serene mask firmly in place, forced herself to take the next step. “In the circumstances, I expect you’ll be returning to London shortly, will you not?”
She had intended to keep her gaze level with his, but could not prevent it falling. Consequently she did not see the frown that passed through Jason’s eyes, or the way his jaw clenched as his moment of joy was abruptly curtailed.
For a moment, Jason thought he had not heard her aright. Then his world came crashing down about his ears. She wanted him to leave. He had played his part in fulfilling the expectations of their marriage; he was free to depart. As if from a distance, he heard himself say, “Yes, I rather suppose I will.”
An inane response. He did not want to leave but what else was he do do? Stay and make a fool of himself over a wife who did not want him?
He cleared his throat. “There are a few things I should attend to but I expect I’ll head back in a day or so.”
It was an effort to draw breath but, now the moment was upon her, Lenore found the strength to carry through her charade. Looking up, into his grey eyes, she smiled. “I was wondering, my lord, if you could get me some books from Hatchards? There are one or two studies on cataloguing I would like to consult before I make a start on the library. If you could send them down to me as soon as possible I’d be extremely grateful.”
It was not her gratitude he wanted. But, if that was all she was offering, so be it. Stunned, confused, Jason studied her, his expression bleak. “I’d be happy to do so. If you’ll give me your list, I’ll have my secretary arrange for the matter to be attended to immediately when I reach town.”
She managed to keep her mask from slipping even though the thought that her request would be handled by his secretary slipped under her guard and hurt dreadfully. Lenore inclined her head, her smile still in place. “Thank you, my lord. I’ll write it down immediately, if you’ll excuse me. I would not wish to have you delay for it.”
Defeated, Jason stood as she rose. With a regal nod, she passed by him, gliding gracefully to the door.
Lenore paused with her hand on the knob. “Goodnight, my lord.”
“Goodnight, madam wife.”
His tone was cold, distant, very far from the warmth they had once shared. Stifling her sigh for what she knew she could never have, Lenore closed the door behind her.
Jason slumped back into his chair, covering his eyes with one hand, the other clenching into a fist on his knee. For a long time, he sat motionless, his mind aimlessly scanning the recent past, forming and discarding possible futures. Eventually, he sighed deeply and sat up, running his hands over his face. What to do?
Hours later, he climbed the stairs with no answer to hand. Undressing and donning his robe, he automatically headed for Lenore’s room but pulled up short, eyeing the door. She was pregnant—and had all but declared she expected him to leave, his duty done. That was certainly not his inclination but unless he was prepared to stake a claim to something more—to declare his wish that their marriage should be more than the cold-blooded arrangement he had originally sought—did he have the right to demand more of her? If he went in, would she welcome him to her bed? Or simply accommodate him rather than make a scene?
With a smothered groan, Jason turned away from the door, drifting to the window to stare out at the dark. Lenore had left him with a decision to make and make it he must. What did he really want—of marriage, of life, of Lenore?
He had thought he had known, that his habits were set, yet she had changed him, changed him so much he could not recognise himself. And no longer had any confidence that he knew where he was headed or what was best for him. After thirty-eight years of unmitigated hedonism he felt like a dithering fool, unable to shake free of his confusion and take a firm step forward. His uncertainty paralysed him, destroying his usual decisiveness, making him vacillate when his temperament called for action. The tangled web of his emotions was tearing him apart.
Perhaps he should leave. Lenore clearly did not want him, regardless of whatever he might want of her. He had wanted a bride who would fulfil his reasons for marriage—he had got what he had asked for; he could not complain.
But he could minimise the pain he now felt. There was nothing to prevent him taking her up on her offer to release him from waiting on her here in the country. In London, there would be plenty of women eager to warm his bed—there always had been and, if he knew anything of women, his marriage would only whet their appetites.
Glancing down at the shadows on the floor, Jason thought of the scene when he told her he was leaving. What would she do? Smile brightly and scurry off to get her list of books?
With a smothered curse, he shrugged off his robe and climbed into his bed. He would leave tomorrow morning. Early. Without her wretched list. She could send it on. At least, that way he would not have to endure her smiles as she waved him goodbye.
* * *
VACUOUS CHATTER engulfed Jason the instant he set foot in Lady Beauchamp’s salon. After two nights in less elevated circles, he was back in the bosom of the ton. Wandering aimlessly through the crowd, nodding to acquaintances sighted through the crush, he wondered, not for the first time in the past three days, just what he was doing here. He had arrived at Eversleigh House to find a stack of invitations waiting on the desk in his library; this was the third night of stale air and loud voices he had endured in his search for… His expression hardening, Jason forced himself to continue with the thought, the one he had grown adept at avoiding. He was searching for relief from his fascination with his wife.
He knew no other word for it, the emotion he felt for Lenore. The poets had another, but he was not comfortable with that. Frustrated fascination seemed damning enough to have to admit to.
“Ho! Jason!”
Jason turned to see Frederick pushing through the bodies towards him. They shook hands, Frederick thumping his shoulder.
“Where’ve you been? Looked to see you long before this.”
“The Abbey,” Jason replied shortly.
“Oh.” Frederick glanced more carefully at him, then looked about. “Where’s Lenore?”
Having expected this question, Jason had no difficulty keeping his expression untroubled. “She remained at the Abbey.”
“Oh?” Frederick looked worried. After some hesitation, he asked diffidently, “Nothing amiss, I take it?”
Jason opened his eyes wide. “She prefers the country, remember?”
“Well, yes, but newly wed and all that, y’know. Thought she’d have come up with you this once.”
“She didn’t,” Jason replied curtly, feeling his mask slip. Abruptly, he asked, “What’s all this I’ve been hearing about Castlereagh?”
After ten minutes’ intense speculation on the latest political scandal, Jason left his friend to move among the brightly clad, exotically scented matrons who had for years provided him with the opportunity for scandal of a different sort. Not that any of his affairs, conducted as they always had been with discretion, had ever been the subject of a duel, nor even much more than speculation. While casting his eye over the field, he met Agatha.
“There you are, Eversleigh. ’Bout time, too.” Agatha fixed her nephew with a shrewd eye. “So you’ve finally managed to drag yourself away from the amenities of the Abbey, have you?”
To his chagrin, Jason flushed and could find nothing to say.
Agatha chuckled. “Where’s Lenore? I haven’t sighted her yet.”
As his aunt glanced about, trying, from her far from sufficient height, to see about her, Jason stated bluntly, “She’s not her
e.”
“Oh?” Agatha’s eyes gleamed. “Not indisposed, is she?”
The prospect of having his wife’s condition broadcast to the ton stared Jason in the face. His expression hardened. “She stayed at the Abbey.”
“Oh.” Agatha’s face showed clear evidence of her bewilderment. “But…” She frowned, then added, “Dare say you’re both old enough to know your own minds, but it would really be much better if Lenore was to come to town now, to be presented as your duchess. Plenty of time later to stay in the country. Best, I would have thought, to get the part of the business she dislikes over with now. Doesn’t pay to disappoint the expectations of the ton, y’know.”
With that sage advice, and looking rather more troubled than she had before she had met him, Agatha nodded and moved on.
Jason returned her nod absent-mindedly, his brain busy with her words. Agatha had her finger firmly upon the shifting pulse of ton approbation; no one knew this world better than she. Although he had not previously considered her point, it did not take much thought to suspect her advice was sound. Perhaps he should convey her thoughts to Lenore?
“Eversleigh! It does my heart good to see you back among us, Your Grace.”
With a slightly sceptical lift to his brows, Jason turned to bow over the hand of Lady Ormsby, a spectacular beauty whom he had long suspected of having designs on him. Only a few subtle sentences were needed to confirm that fact. Her ladyship gave him to understand that, now that he had provided himself with the additional safety of a wife, a further piece of camouflage for any illicit affair, she felt that nothing now stood in the way of their pursuing a more intimate relationship.
Nothing, Jason mused, his temper stirring at her ladyship’s dismissive reference to his wife, beyond his own lack of interest. In days past, he would very likely have accepted Lady Ormsby’s invitation. Now, looking into her hard blue eyes, he could not understand what had ever attracted him to her like. They had no softness, no womanly gentleness, none of the spontaneous sensuality he had found in Lenore. The idea of compromising his now much higher standards, of accepting such unattractive liaisons in lieu of his conjugal rights, appalled him. It was not possible.
Extricating himself from Lady Ormsby’s clutches without causing undue offence required a not inconsiderable degree of talent. Finally quitting her ladyship’s side, leaving her disappointed but not slighted, Jason ruefully reflected that this was the third night he had had need of that particular art. The undeniable conclusion from his three days of distraction was becoming increasingly hard to avoid.
He missed Lenore. During the day, he prowled about town, finding no joy in the pursuits that had filled his life for years. Yesterday, when her brief letter enclosing her list had arrived, he had pounced on it. Compton had not even seen it—he had gone to Hatchards and bought her books for her, adding two he thought she might like to the pile before having it wrapped and sent down to the Abbey. For the rest of the day he had wandered about, eschewing his clubs for the fresher air of the parks, his mind filled with imaginings of how his wife was filling her day.
As for his nights, they were lonely and miserable. When it came down to it, he had spent much of his life alone, but now he felt more alone than ever before, cold, as if his arms longed for her warmth.
“Eversleigh! Good God, man, look where you’re going! You’ve trodden on my flounce.”
Abruptly called to order, Jason hurriedly removed his foot from his aunt Eckington’s purple flounce and nodded in greeting. “My pardon, Aunt.”
“So I should hope.” Lady Eckington fixed her basilisk stare, known to have reduced Hussars to meekness, upon him. “Where’s your wife? Haven’t seen her yet but that’s hardly surprising in this crush.”
There was nothing like familial pressure, Jason decided, to force one to acknowledge the error of one’s ways. He smiled at his aunt, knowing his imperviousness to her intimidation always annoyed her. “She remained at the Abbey for a few days more—I came up to ensure everything was as it should be at Eversleigh House. I plan to go down tomorrow and bring her back with me.”
“Excellent!” Lady Eckington’s ostrich feathers bobbed. “A very wise move. She’ll no doubt wish to establish herself in society while the leniency extended to a newly-wed wife is still hers.”
Jason stored that one up for Lenore, should she prove difficult.
“Must say,” her ladyship declared, her gaze fixed on Jason’s face, “I’m glad to see you taking your responsibilities seriously, Jason. A workable marriage can make all the difference, y’know. And Lenore’s an exceptional choice—getting your marriage on a solid foundation would be well worth your effort.”
With a nod, Lady Eckington bustled away. Jason watched her go, a smile on his lips, for once in total agreement with his father’s eldest sister.
* * *
HAVING MADE his decision, for good or ill, Jason wasted no time. Leaving London the next day, he spent the night at Salisbury, arriving at the Abbey in the early afternoon. Leaving his groom to drive his curricle to the stables, he strode up the steps to where the front doors were propped wide. As he crossed the threshold, his eyes not yet adjusted to the dimmer light, his ears were assailed by a shriek.
“Damnation, Morgan! Oh! It’s you, Your Grace. Begging your pardon, m’lord, but we weren’t expecting you.”
Blinking, Jason saw Mrs. Potts heave herself up from her knees. Glancing about, he met the accusing stares of a gaggle of maids, all on their knees scrubbing the hall tiles. Two scrambled up to mop up the pool of water he had sent across the floor when he had kicked one of their buckets.
“Her Grace decided ’twas time to have a clean-up in here,” said Mrs. Potts, drying her hands on her apron as she came forward. “Quite right, too.”
“I dare say,” Jason replied. “Where is your mistress?”
“In the library, Y’r Grace.”
Where else? “Don’t disturb yourself, Mrs. Potts. I’ll go to her there.”
“Yes, Y’r Grace. Er…will you be staying, m’lord?”
Jason halted, frowning. “How long I remain depends on Her Grace. However, we’ll both be leaving for town in a few days, at most.”
Mrs. Potts beamed. “Yes, of course, Your Grace.”
With a benevolent nod, Jason turned and headed for the library. The instant he stepped through the doors, he saw Lenore had made a start on her cataloguing. There were piles of books everywhere, emptied from the shelves and balanced one upon the other in stacks as high as his shoulders. Closing the door gently behind him, he glanced about but could not see her. Carefully he wended his way through the stacks, stepping softly.
Up in the gallery, Lenore was seated on a cushion on the floor, staring out of the large windows before her, a book on the medicinal properties of herbs open in her lap. She had not turned a page for nearly an hour. Despite her efforts to hold back her dismal thoughts, they persisted in trapping her whenever she allowed her mind a moment’s respite from the activities she had organised. The first four days following Jason’s departure had passed in a dull haze, her mind never really winning free of the aching loneliness that had gripped her on reading his brief note, stating that he had altered his plans and had left early that morning, bidding her a distant adieu until he returned. Yesterday, she had declared “Enough!” and made a determined effort to get her new life back on track. She had her position, her own household to run—it was time she commenced running it again. She had a library to catalogue—she had started in with a vengeance. She had a child, growing within her, and that was what, all too often today, had seduced her mind from the task at hand.
She had not previously given a child much thought—how would a new small person fit into her life? Would a child, their child, ease the empty ache she now felt in that part of her heart that Jason had claimed as his, had filled and
now left void? Somehow, she could not quite believe that it would. But she had all that she had been promised—and her memories. She had no cause for complaint.
With a deep sigh, she looked down at the book in her lap, trying to remember why she had been studying it.
“I might have guessed.”
Lenore looked up, straight into her husband’s grey eyes, and only just managed to keep her joy from bursting forth. He stood a few feet away, one shoulder propped against the window-frame, horrendously handsome, his driving cloak with all its capes hanging from his broad shoulders to his calves. For a moment, her senses swayed, urging her to fly to his arms. With an effort, she shackled them, forcing herself to calm. Serenity intact, she smiled. “Good afternoon, my lord. We did not look to see you return so soon. Is anything wrong?”
Faced with a far calmer reception that he had hoped for, Jason did not return her smile. Her attitude dashed his unacknowledged hopes, making it plain that she had not missed him as he had missed her, that she was perfectly content cataloguing her damned library. “My aunts asked after you,” he offered in explanation. “They believe you should come up to town and make your social début as my wife now rather than later. They were quite adamant on the matter and, having considered their arguments, I suspect they’re right.”
While listening to this cool recitation of his eminently sensible reasons for returning, Lenore shut the book in her lap and placed it aside. Taking the hand he offered, she rose and brushed down her skirts. “So you wish me to go back to town with you?”
To Jason, her reluctance was obvious. Slamming a door on his emotions to protect them from further hurt, he inclined his head coolly. “I believe it’ll be best for you to appear in town at least for the Little Season.”
Casting a last, resigned glance at her piles of musty tomes, Lenore allowed him to tuck her hand in his arm and lead her from her sanctuary. The idea of going to town with him—to have to watch from the sidelines as he enjoyed himself in the company of other women, all more attractive to a man of his tastes than she could ever be—filled her with dread. Her feelings, only just soothed after the trauma of his leaving, would be raked raw anew. How could she face it?
Rules of Engagement: The Reasons for MarriageThe Wedding PartyUnlaced (Lester Family) Page 21
