* * *
HE CAUGHT UP with her the next day. On her way to convey a shank of embroidery silk left in the upstairs parlour to Agatha in the morning-room, Lenore was halfway down the stairs before she heard the rumble of Eversleigh’s deep tones below. After a fractional hesitation, she continued her calm descent.
Jason turned as she gained the hall tiles, his grey gaze sweeping from her hair, neatly braided and coiled, over her modish amber morning gown with its delicate fluted chemisette, to the tips of her old-fashioned slippers peeking from beneath the dress’s scalloped hem. Seeing his gaze become fixed, Lenore had no difficulty divining his thoughts. She went forward with her usual confident air, her hand outstretched. “Good morning, Your Grace. I trust I see you well?”
With a slight, questioning lift to his brows, Jason took her hand and, without preamble, raised it to his lips. “I apologise for not being here to greet you. Business took me to Dorset and thence to Salisbury, as I hope Agatha explained.”
Quelling the now familiar sensation that streaked through her at his unconventional caress, Lenore retrieved her hand. “Lady Agatha has been most kind.” Turning to lead him to the morning-room, she added, “You will, no doubt, be happy to know that yesterday she and I visited a certain Madame Lafarge, who is, even now, endeavouring to create a wardrobe fit for the Duchess of Eversleigh. We plan to visit the shoemakers, glovers and milliners tomorrow. Tell me, my lord, do you have any particular makers you wish to recommend?”
The airily polite question was more than enough to put Jason on his guard. “I’m sure Agatha will know who is best,” he murmured.
Agatha was delighted to see him, promptly informing him of a ball to be given by her sister, Lady Attlebridge, the following evening. “Mary’s agreed to use the event to puff off your engagement. A select dinner beforehand, so you’d best be here by seven. My carriage or yours?”
Jason frowned. “I’ve sent the main Eversleigh carriages to be refitted, so it had better be yours, I imagine.”
Lenore noted his slight constraint and, after years of tripping over her brothers’ secrets, wondered if he had intended the refit as a surprise for her.
“I had thought to take Miss Lester for a drive in the Park.” Jason smoothly turned to Lenore. “That is, if you’d like to take the air?”
There was, in fact, little Lenore would have liked better. Buoyed by the bracing effect of Agatha’s encouragement, she was determined to make a start gaining experience dealing with her husband-to-be while she still had his aunt behind her. “You’re most kind, Your Grace. If you’ll wait while I get my pelisse?”
Jason merely nodded, sure she would not keep his horses waiting.
Making an elegant exit from the morning-room, Lenore hurried upstairs. The day was unseasonably cool; she was eager to try out the new cherry-red pelisse delivered from Lafarage’s this morning. It was an item Eversleigh had ordered; she was determined to give him no warning of her other purchases prior to Lady Attlebridge’s ball. Ringing for Trencher, she tidied her hair, fastening it with extra pins given she as yet had no suitable bonnet; she refused to have it cut nor yet to wear a scarf. Shrugging into the pelisse and buttoning it up, Lenore turned this way and that before her cheval glass, admiring the soft merino wool edged with simple ribbon and trimmed at collar and cuffs with grey squirrel fur. The pastel
amber of her gown did not clash with the deep cherry. Then she noticed her slippers.
Grimacing, Lenore turned to Trencher. “My brown half-boots and gloves. They’ll have to do until I can get something to match. Perhaps tomorrow?”
Descending the stairs busy with the last buttons on her gloves, Lenore did not see Eversleigh at their foot.
“Commendably prompt, my dear.”
Lenore looked up, straight into his grey eyes and found them warm with appreciation. She smiled but did not deceive herself that he had not noticed her gloves and boots.
“That shade of red suits you to admiration,” Jason murmured as, taking her hand, he led her to the door.
Lenore bit back her impulsive rejoinder, to the effect that it was hardly surprising if his taste found favour in his eyes. Letting her lashes fall, she replied, “It’s not a colour I have previously had a chance to wear. I must admit I rather favour it.”
The gleam of pride in his eyes as he lifted her to the box seat of his curricle filled her with a curious elation.
The drive to the Park was accomplished swiftly, the traffic in the more fashionable quarters having markedly decreased. It was the first of July and many of the ton had already quit the capital. Nevertheless, there were more than enough of the élite left to nod and whisper as His Grace of Eversleigh swept past in his curricle, an elegant lady beside him.
Lenore revelled in the speed of the carriage, bowling along at a clipping pace. She had been driven in curricles before, but never on such smooth surfaces. Jason’s matched greys were, she suspected, Welsh thoroughbreds; the carriage, sleek and perfectly sprung, was no great load for them. Above their heads, the sun struggled to pierce the clouds; the breeze, redolent with the scents of summer, whipped her cheeks.
Bethinking herself of the one item she should make a point of mentioning, Lenore leant closer to Eversleigh. “I must thank you for my bridal gown, my lord. It’s truly lovely.”
Briefly, Jason glanced down at her. “It was my mother’s. My parents’ marriage was, by all accounts, a highly successful one. It seemed a fitting omen to re-use my mother’s gown.”
Not quite sure how to take his words, Lenore made no reply, keeping her gaze on the passing trees and the occupants of the carriages about them.
Noting the sensation their appearance was causing, Jason sought to clarify the matter. “The announcement of our betrothal will appear in the Gazette the day after tomorrow, after the announcement at my aunt’s ball.” He glanced down at the fair face beside him, refreshingly open, her complexion aglow. He smiled wryly. “I had to make sure all my major connections, such as my uncle Henry, heard of it first from me, else there’d have been hell to pay.”
Lenore returned his glance with a grin. “I can imagine. Your family is very large, is it not?”
“Very! If you were to ask how many could claim kinship I would not be able to tell you. The Montgomerys, I fear, are a somewhat robust breed. While the direct line has dwindled due to accident, the collateral lines continue to increase unabated.”
“Will they all be attending our wedding?” Lenore asked, struck by the possibility.