Stephanie Laurens Rogues' Reform Bundle (6 page)

Unobtrusively, Lenore made her way to the door, appalled at the extent of her inner turmoil. She would have to avoid Eversleigh.

Which was a pity, for she had enjoyed his company.

S
HE WOULD NOT
allow him to take command again. Lenore descended the long staircase at ten the next morning, determined that today would see no repetition of yestereve's foolishness. Beneath the smooth surface of her blue pinafore, worn over a beige morning gown, her heart beat at its accustomed pace. With luck and good management it would continue to do so for the rest of the week.

Years before, she had set her face against marriage, the conventional occupation for women of her station. From all she had seen, matrimony had nothing desirable to offer that she did not already have. She preferred life calm and well-organised; a husband, with the duties and obediences that entailed, let alone the emotional complications, could only disrupt her peace. Hence, she had expended considerable effort in establishing a reputation for eccentricity, while avoiding any gentlemen who might prove a danger to her future. To her select band of acquaintances she was the knowledgeable Miss Lester, sure to be engaged in some esoteric study, a lady of satisfactory wealth and impeccable breeding, fully absorbed with her varied interests, with running her household and her father's estates. And, at twenty-four, beyond the reach of any man.

Or so she had thought. Stopping to shuffle the bright flowers in the vase on the upper landing, Lenore frowned. She had encouraged her brothers to invite their friends to Lester Hall, hoping the activity would cheer her father. He was still recovering from his long illness and, she knew, liked the lively bustle and laughter. She had been confident that, now she was an experienced woman, she stood in no danger from exposure to the gentlemen who would attend.

It had taken Eversleigh less than twelve hours to shake the confidence.

Dusting pollen from her fingers, Lenore straightened, forcing her mind to a more positive bent. She was making too much of the situation; she had nothing to fear. Despite his awesome reputation, no one had ever accused Eversleigh of stepping over the line. He was curious, certainly, given that he had seen past her fa
de. But, until she had declared her lack of interest in fashionable dalliance, he had not been the least lover-like.

Closing her eyes in momentary frustration, Lenore sighed, then, opening them, stared down the main flight of stairs. She should have known that giving vent to her sentiments would have acted on Eversleigh like a red rag to a bull. No rake could resist such a challenge. Certainly not one who, by all accounts, had half the London
belles
at his feet.

Luckily, the reins were still very much in her grasp. Given that she had insufficient defence against him, the only sane course was to avoid him. Absence was a barrier not even he could surmount.

Below her, the house was quiet. All the ladies would still be abed, too exhausted or too timid to have descended to the parlour for breakfast. The gentlemen, she hoped, would have quitted the house by now. Harry had had a long ride planned to show off his racing colts, stabled at a distant farm.

Determined to adhere to wisdom's dictates, Lenore started down the last of the stairs.

The billiard-room door opened.

“Damn your luck, Jason! One day, I vow, I'll have your measure—then I'll exact retribution for all these defeats.”

Recognising her brother Jack's voice, and realising that there was only one Jason among the guests, Lenore froze, wildly contemplating retreat. But it was too late. Strolling forward into the hall, Jack glanced up and saw her.

“Lenore! Just the person. Look here—this blackguard has just taken me for twenty-five guineas and I've no more than five on me. Settle for me, will you, dear sister?”

The request was accompanied by a look of meltingly innocent appeal that Lenore had never been known to resist. She could not do so now, but oh,
how
she wished she could tell her exasperating brother to settle his own debts. At least, those with Eversleigh. With no alternative offering, Lenore descended to the hall. “Yes, of course.” Poised, serene, she turned to greet Jack's companion.

Jason took the small hand offered him, noting the nervous flutter of her fingers, like a small bird trapped within his hand. “Good morning, Miss Lester. I trust you slept well?”

“Perfectly, thank you,” Lenore lied, retrieving her hand.

“I must off and look at the dogs—Higgs said something about an infection. Papa would have apoplexy if anything serious transpired. I'll meet you at the stables, Eversleigh.” With a brisk nod, Jack took himself off.

Viewing her brother's retreating back with uneasy resignation, Lenore murmured, “If you'll come this way, Your Grace?”

Jason inclined his head, falling into step beside her as she led the way down the corridor to a door beyond the billiard-room. It gave on to a small office tucked partly under the stairs. A single window looked out over the lawns behind the house. Ledgers marched, row upon row, along the bookshelves covering one wall. Jason watched as Lenore sat behind the old desk, its surface covered with neat piles of papers and accounts, and drew a key from the small pocket at her waist.

“Is this your domain?”

Lenore looked up. “Yes. I manage the household and the estate.”

Propping his shoulders against the window-frame, Jason raised one winged brow. “I've often wondered how Jack and Harry manage. They rarely seem to feel the need to spend time husbanding their acres.”

Lenore's lips curved. “As there always seems to be an abundance of entertainments elsewhere to keep them busy and as I find the occupation amusing, we long ago reached an understanding.”

“But it can't be straightforward, not being the one in authority?”

Straightening an account book, left open on the blotter before her, Lenore allowed one brow to rise. “I've always been here, and everyone about knows who runs Lester Hall.” From behind her spectacles, she viewed the lean length so negligently displayed by the window. Eversleigh dominated her small room, filling it with an aura of masculine energy. At the moment, however, he seemed reassuringly relaxed. Lenore yielded to the promptings of curiosity. “Tell me, Your Grace, do you directly manage your own estates?”

One arrogant brow flew. “Certainly, Miss Lester. That is one responsibility I cannot and would not wish to deny.”

“What, then, do you think of these Corn Laws of ours, sir?” Eyes alight, Lenore clasped her hands on the desk and leaned forward eagerly.

Jason paused, studying her face, then replied, “They're not working, Miss Lester.”

What followed was a conversation that, for his part, Jason would never have believed possible. But Lenore had the questing nature of a bloodhound once she realised he understood first-hand the ramifications of the controversial agricultural laws.

Finally, her thirst for knowledge appeased, she sat back with a sigh. “So you believe they will be repealed?”

“Eventually,” Jason admitted, his arms crossed over his chest. “But it will be some time before that's achieved.”

Lenore nodded, her mind still busy cataloguing all she had learned. It was a rare blessing to find a gentleman able and willing to discuss such matters with her. Her father had long since lost touch with the outside world; her brothers cared nothing for the political sphere. And there were few gentlemen among her select circle who held estates large enough to comprehend the negative effects of the reactionary laws.

Recalling what had brought her to her office, Lenore shook aside her thoughts and sat up. Pulling out a drawer, she fumbled until she found another key, the pair to the first, still warm in her hand. Rising, she crossed to where a cupboard was set into the bookcase. She inserted one key and unlocked the door, swinging it open to reveal a grey metal safe. The second key unlocked the simple safe. Reaching in, Lenore drew out a small pouch. It was the work of a minute to loosen the strings and shake a handful of golden guineas into her palm. She was busy counting them when a large hand closed over hers, curling her fingers about the coins.

“No. Keep them.”

“Oh, no.” Lenore shook her head vehemently, too well acquainted with male pride to accept such a boon. “Jack would never forgive me.” She looked up, into Eversleigh's grey eyes, one brow rising haughtily when she saw his expression harden.

For a long moment, Eversleigh studied her. “I will not accept any coins from you but I'll undertake to tell Jack the debt was paid in full.”

Stubbornly, Lenore shook her head, her lips firming in a mutinous line.

Jason held her steady gaze, his eyes narrowed, his fingers tight about her hand. Then, his lips twisted in a wry smile. “Something else, perhaps,” he suggested. His smile deepened. He released her hand but not her eyes. “I will not accept any money in payment of Jack's debt. Instead, Miss Lester, I'll settle for the answer to one question.”

Lenore frowned up at him. “What question?”

“Ah, no.” Jason stepped back to lean against the bookshelves. He eyed her speculatively. “Not until you agree to settling thus.”

Lenore's eyes narrowed. Glancing down at the coins in her hand, she debated the wisdom of making any bargain with a rake. But what could he ask, after all. Twenty-five guineas was no great sum, not in her accounting, yet if she saved it she could put it into her special fund for helping their needier tenants.

“Very well.” She dropped the coins back into the pouch and returned it to the safe. Shutting the safe, she locked the cupboard door, all the while reassuring herself that she was the one in charge. Finally, she turned to face Eversleigh. “What is your question, Your Grace?”

Jason smiled. “Why do you persist in hiding your light under a bushel, my dear?”

Lenore blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

The look Eversleigh bent upon her forcibly reminded her of his reputation.

“I asked why you are so assiduous in veiling your attributes from those most likely to appreciate them.”

Pressing her hands together, Lenore put her nose in the air. “I have no idea what you mean, Your Grace.”

“Let's see if I can explain.” Jason straightened, pushing away from the wall. Horrified, Lenore watched, wide-eyed, as two strides brought him to stand directly before her. His hands came up to grasp the bookshelves just beyond each of her shoulders, trapping her between his arms.

Feeling the edges of the bookshelves digging into her spine, Lenore cleared her throat. “I'm convinced you are too much the gentleman to resort to intimidation, Your Grace.”

“Believe what you will of me, my dear, but allow me to remove these, before they obscure your very pretty eyes.”

Before she could react, Eversleigh had whipped her fogging spectacles from her nose, dropping them on the desk behind him.

Stifling a squeak of sheer outrage, Lenore blinked furiously up at him.

A slow smile was her reward. “A great improvement.” For an instant, the silver gaze roamed her face in open appreciation before, with a last unnerving glance at her lips, Jason returned his attention to the matter at hand. “Permit me to inform you, Miss Lester, that, unlike the majority who have visited here, I am neither blind nor gullible. That being so, I wish to know why you insist on purposely hiding your charms.”

In the face of such an attack, there was nothing to do but fight back. “My charms, as you are pleased to call them, are my own, I believe? If it pleases me to keep them hidden, then who has any right to gainsay me?” Lenore felt distinctly pleased with that piece of logic.

“There are many, Miss Lester, who would maintain that a beautiful woman is created for the enjoyment of men. How do you answer the charge of short-changing half the population?”

“
I
am not on this earth to pander to the whims of men, my lord.” Head back, eyes flashing, Lenore felt her temper take hold. “Indeed, I've discovered that by avoiding the complications engendered by the male of the species, it is tolerably easy to live a calm and well-ordered life.”

Eversleigh's eyes narrowed.

Abruptly realising that she had said too much, Lenore temporised, “That is…”

“No.” The single syllable stopped her, drying her stumbling words at source. “I think I see the light.”

To her consternation, Eversleigh leaned closer, his narrowed eyes casting a silver net she could not escape. He loomed over her, around her; never in her life had she felt so helpless.

His eyes searched hers. “You don't wish to marry.” The words were enunciated slowly, quietly, but were all the more definite for that. “You hide your delights beneath heavy cambric and hope no one will see enough to be interested.”

Lenore wished she could shake her head but Eversleigh's compelling gaze prevented prevarication. She summoned a glare. “I see no reason why any man
should
be interested in me, Your Grace.”

The reaction to that was not what she had hoped. A slow smile twisted Eversleigh's lips. He shifted, bringing one large hand up to take a large pinch of her clothing, just above the yoke of her gown. Deliberately, he gave the material a brisk twitch, back and forth.