By the time the carriage pulled up on the broad sweep of gravel before the front steps, twilight had taken hold. Handed down from the carriage, Lenore looked up at the massive oak doors and the soaring stone arch above them. She peered about, trying to discern the features of the gardens before the house.
“They won’t disappear during the night,” Jason commented drily.
Accepting that truth, Lenore allowed him to lead her up the steps. Long before they had reached them, the doors were swung wide. The hall within was ablaze with light. A chandelier depending from the huge central beams threw light into every corner. Tiled in grey and white, the large rectangular room was filled with a small crowd of people. The butler, at the head of the assembled company, bowed majestically.
“Welcome, Your Grace.” Then he bowed again. “Your Grace.”
For a moment, Lenore wondered why he had repeated himself. Then she realised and blushed. Jason, an understanding smile on his face, led her forward.
“Allow me to present you to your staff, my dear. This is Morgan, who has been with us forever. His father was butler before him. And this is Mrs. Potts.”
Lenore smiled and nodded, acknowledging the greetings of each servant as Morgan and the reassuringly cheerful Mrs. Potts conducted her down the line. Behind her, she heard Jason issuing quiet orders to his valet, the one named Moggs. He had been with Jason at Salisbury but had come down ahead of them with Trencher and the luggage. The introductions seemed interminable; Lenore juggled names and occupations, resolving to ask for a list at the earliest opportunity. At the end of the line, Jason took her hand, dismissing the gathering with a nod.
Glancing down at her, his expression resigned, he lifted an enquiring brow. “I suppose I had better show you the library before you set out to discover it yourself and get lost.”
Lenore smiled sweetly, gracefully taking his proffered arm as he turned towards an archway. By the time they reached the library door, she was grateful for his forethought. Many of the main rooms were interconnecting; the way far from direct. If left to herself, she would certainly have got lost.
The library was enormous; the small fire burning in the hearth did nothing to dispel its cavernous shadows. Jason strolled forward and lit a branch of candles. Then he took her hand and led her on a circuit of the room, holding the candlestick high to light their way.
“There must be thousands and thousands of books here.” Lenore’s hushed whisper drifted into the stillness.
“Very likely,” Jason replied. “I’ve no idea of the number—I thought I’d leave that to you.”
“Are they in any order?”
“Only vaguely. My father always seemed to simply know where things were, rather than work to any plan.”
Forming her own plans to bring order to what appeared one step away from chaos, Lenore let her eyes roam upwards, to where rows of books seemed to disappear into shadows. Staring up, she realised the ceiling was a very long way away and the wall did not seem to meet it. “Is there a gallery up there?”
Jason glanced upwards. “Yes. It goes all the way around.” He turned her about and pointed to where a set of wooden stairs led up. “Those lead to it.”
Turning about, eyes wide, Lenore realised the gallery ran along above the windows, too. It would be a perfect place to have her desk.
Viewing the total absorption that had laid hold of his wife, Jason, his fingers locked about hers, recrossed the long room. Placing the candlestick down on the table by the fireplace, he snuffed the three candles with the silver snuffer that lay beside the tinderbox.
Only as the light died did Lenore return her attention to him. With a satisfied smile, Jason turned for the door. “You can see the rest of the house tomorrow.” He opened the door and ushered her into the corridor. “I’ve given orders for you to be served supper in your room. Your maid should be waiting upstairs.”
“Yes, of course.” Quelling her skittering pulse, Lenore glided beside him, a host of impetuous and far too revealing questions hovering on her lips. She was perfectly certain he would have made plans for the evening—she was not at all certain if knowing them would help her.
At the top of the grand staircase, Jason turned her to her right. “Your apartments are along here.” He stopped at a polished oak door and opened it, standing back for her to precede him. Lenore went through, into her bedroom.
It was all in greens and golds, soft colours blending and contrasting with the ivory wallpaper. The furniture was of polished oak, gleaming in the light from the candles scattered in candelabra and sconces throughout the room. All the knobs she could see were brass, including those at the corners of the huge tester bed. Drapes of pale green gauze depended in scallops from the frame above the bed; the counterpane was of silk in the identical shade of green. Velvet of a darker green curtained the windows while the stools and chairs were upholstered in amber velvet.
Slowly, Lenore turned, eyes round as
she drank in the subtle elegance, her lips parting in wordless approval. Her gaze met her husband’s. Jason lifted his brows in mute question.
“It’s lovely!”
Pleased, more by the delight in her eyes than by her words, Jason smiled. Placing an iron shackle over his inclinations, he shut the corridor door behind him and strolled to a door on the left. “I’ll leave you to get settled. The bell-pull’s by the mantelpiece.” He paused, his hand on the doorknob, his gaze, beyond his control, roving over her. “Until later, Lenore.”
With a nod, he went through the door, shutting it firmly behind him.
Slightly breathless, Lenore eyed the door. Presumably, it led to his chamber. She swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry. At least she would not have to endure a formal dinner, facing him over the length of a long polished board with doting servants hovering on their every word. But would that have put off his unnerving “later” for longer?
With a determined wriggle of her shoulders, Lenore shook aside her silly trepidations. She was hardly a missish deb, fresh from the schoolroom.
Crossing to the mantelpiece, she examined the delicately embroidered bell-pull. Then, with a determined tug, she rang for Trencher.