Rules of Engagement: The Reasons for Marriage. Stephanie Laurens

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      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 СКАЧАТЬ