A Lady Of Expectations. Stephanie Laurens

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      With three profligate sons in the family and an income little more than a competence, it was commonly understood that the scions of Lester Hall would require wealthy brides. However, given the family connections and the fact that Jack, as eldest, would inherit the Hall and principal estates, no one had been surprised when, once he had let it be known he was seriously contemplating matrimony, the invitations had rolled in.

      “Naturally,” Harry suavely put in. “With all Jack’s years of … worldly experience, no one expects him to fall victim to any simple snares and, given the lack of a Lester fortune, there’s insufficient incentive for the dragons to waste effort mounting any of their more convoluted schemes.”

      “So I’ve been free to view the field.” Jack took back the conversational reins. “However, should any whiff of our changed circumstances begin circulating through the ton, my life of unfettered ease will be over. The harpies will descend with a vengeance.”

      “Nothing they like better than the fall of a rake,” Harry confided to Percy. “Brings out their best efforts—never more hellishly inventive than when they’ve a rich rake with a declared interest in matrimony firmly in their sights. They relish the prospect of the hunter being the hunted.”

      Jack threw him a quelling glance. “Sufficient to say that my life will no longer be at all comfortable. I won’t be able to set foot outside my door without guarding against the unimaginable. Debs at every turn, hanging on a fellow’s arm, forever batting their silly lashes. It’s easy to put one off women for life.”

      Harry shut his eyes and shuddered.

      The light of understanding dawned on Percy’s cherubic countenance. “Oh,” he said. Then, “In that case, you’d better accept Lady Asfordby’s invitation.”

      Jack waved a languid hand. “I’ve all the Season to go yet. No need to get in a pother.”

      “Ah, yes. But will you? Have all the Season, I mean?” When both Jack and Harry looked lost, Percy explained, “This fortune of yours was made on ‘Change, wasn’t it?”

      Jack nodded. “Lenore took the advice of one of the pater’s acquaintances and staked a fleet of merchantmen to the Indies. The company was formed through the usual channels and is listed in London.”

      “Precisely!” Percy came to a flourishing halt by the fireplace. “So any number of men with an interest at the Exchange know the company was wildly successful. And lots of them must know that the Lesters were one of the major backers. That sort of thing’s not secret, y’know. M’father, for one, would be sure to know.”

      Jack and Harry exchanged looks of dawning dismay.

      “There’s no way to silence all those who know,” Percy continued. “So you’ve only got until one of those men happens to mention to his wife that the Lesters’ fortunes have changed and the whole world will know.”

      A groan escaped Harry.

      “No—wait.” Jack straightened. “It’s not that simple, thank God.” The last was said with all due reverence. “Lenore organized it, but naturally she could hardly act for herself in the matter. She used our broker, old Charters, a terribly stuffy old soul. He has never approved of females being involved in business—the old man had to lean on him to accept instructions from Lenore years ago. Charters only agreed on the understanding of secrecy all round—he didn’t want it known that he took orders from a woman. Which probably means he won’t admit it was us he was working for, as it’s fairly well known Lenore was in charge of our finances. If Charters doesn’t talk, there’s no reason to imagine our windfall will become common knowledge overnight.”

      Percy frowned and pursed his lips. “Not overnight, maybe. But dashed if I think it’ll be all that long. These things filter through the cracks in the mortar, so my old man says.”

      A sober silence descended on the room as the occupants weighed the situation.

      “Percy’s right.” Harry’s expression was grim.

      Glumly resigned, Jack held up Lady Asfordby’s invitation. “In more ways than one. I’ll send round to Lady Asfordby to expect us.”

      “Not me.” Harry shook his head decisively.

      Jack’s brows rose. “You’ll get caught in the storm, too.”

      Stubbornly, Harry shook his head again. He drained his glass and placed it on a nearby table. “I haven’t let it be known I’m in the market for a wife, for the simple reason that I’m not.” He stood, stretching his long, lean frame. Then he grinned. “Besides, I like living dangerously.”

      Jack returned the grin with a smile.

      “Anyway, I’m promised at Belvoir tomorrow. Gerald’s there—I’ll tip him the wink over our desire for silence on the subject of our communal fortune. So you can proffer my regrets to her ladyship with a clear conscience.” Harry’s grin broadened. “Don’t forget to do so, incidentally. You might recall she was an old friend of our late lamented aunt and can be a positive dragon—she’ll doubtless be in town for the Season, and I’d rather not find myself facing her fire.”

      With a nod to Percy, Harry made for the door, dropping a hand on Jack’s shoulder in passing. “I should inspect Prince’s fetlock—see if that poultice has done any good. I’ll be off early tomorrow, so I’ll wish you good hunting.” With a commiserating grin, he left.

      As the door closed behind his brother, Jack’s gaze returned to Lady Asfordby’s invitation. With a sigh, he put it in his pocket, then took a long sip of his brandy.

      “So, are we going?” Percy asked around a yawn.

      Grimly, Jack nodded. “We’re going.”

      While Percy went up to bed and the house settled to slumber around him, Jack remained in his chair by the fire, blue eyes intent on the flames. He was still there when, an hour later, Harry re-entered the room.

      “What? Still here?”

      Jack sipped his brandy. “As you see.”

      Harry hesitated for a moment, then crossed to the sideboard. “Musing on the delights of matrimony?”

      Head back, Jack let his eyes track his brother’s movements. “On the inevitability of matrimony, if you really want to know.”

      Sinking onto the chaise, Harry lifted a brow. “Doesn’t have to be you, you know.”

      Jack’s eyes opened wide. “Is that an offer—the ultimate sacrifice?”

      Harry grinned. “I was thinking of Gerald.”

      “Ah.” Jack let his head fall back and stared at the ceiling. “I have to admit I’ve thought of him, too. But it won’t do.”

      “Why not?”

      “He’ll never marry in time for the pater.”

      Harry grimaced but made no answer. Like Jack, he was aware of their sire’s wish to see his line continue unbroken, as it had for generations past. It was the one last nagging worry clouding a mind otherwise prepared for death.

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