His offer was a great deal more than Lenore had expected. “So—I’m to be your hostess, and take responsibility for the management of your houses. And if I find London unamusing, I may retire to the country.” All in all, the position was not without attraction. For one of her skills, the challenge of rejuvenating Eversleigh Abbey was a potent lure.
Jason nodded. “There is, of course, the matter of the succession.”
Lenore switched her gaze away from his, suddenly finding the cherry tree utterly captivating. “I comprehend that you require an heir, Your Grace.”
“Jason. And it’s heirs.” Lenore shot him a nervous glance. “Plural,” Jason added, just to set the matter straight. “As things stand, if I were to die without issue, the title and all my estates would devolve to a distant cousin. The main line has certainly been sufficiently fecund but, unfortunately, the majority of children have been female. I’m the only duke since the first to have had a brother. At present, the next male in line is many times removed and has had no training in either estate management, in the involved politics of a large and wealthy family nor, I’m sad to say, even in how to comport himself with sufficient dignity to carry the role.” He paused, sensing that she was listening intently despite her refusal to look at him. “Consequently, I’m keen to ensure the title remains with my branch of the family.”
Not knowing what else to do, Lenore nodded. “I understand.” Her voice sounded strained, the relief of moments before clouded by realisation of the other side of the coin. She held severe reservations over her ability to deal with Eversleigh on a personal level without falling in love with him. Yesterday had been an eye-opening experience on more than one front. But she had no choice but to take a chance—to risk falling victim to the vulnerability that afflicted her sex. She would try very hard to keep her distance, but…
“And those are the reasons which prompt you to marry me?” The question was out before she could stop it. Lenore bit her lip and waited.
Jason hesitated, then, his lips firming against an unnerving impulse to say more, he nodded. “Yes.”
What had she expected? Lenore suppressed the small, sharp pang of disappointment that twisted through her. At least he had dealt openly with her; now she knew where she stood.
Clearing her throat, she focused her mind on more concrete problems. “Do you have any strong preference for when we should wed, Your—Jason?”
Greatly relieved to hear that question on her lips, Jason answered without reservation. “As soon as possible, which means in four weeks.”
“Four weeks!” Lenore deserted the cherry tree to round on him. “We can’t possibly be married in four weeks.”
One winged brow rose. “Why not?”
Aghast, Lenore stared at him. She had imagined she would have months to come to terms with her new situation. Four weeks was not nearly long enough to strengthen her defences. “Because…because…” Abruptly, she took refuge in anger. “Because you cannot simply decide such matters and expect me to meekly agree.”
Jason frowned. “‘Meek’ is not a word I would use in conjunction with your fair self, my dear. If you would come down out of the boughs for long enough to examine my circumstances, you would see why any delay is to be avoided.”
Puzzled, Lenore looked her question.
Rapidly, Jason formulated an answer, rejecting out of hand any idea of telling her the truth. “As you know, the notion that I intend to wed is currently circulating among the ton. If I return to London without our imminent wedding as protection, I’m likely to be mobbed by matchmaking mamas, seeking to convince me to change my mind and marry their witless daughters instead.”
The vision of hordes of matrons, plumes aquiver, lying in wait to pound on him made Lenore’s lips twitch. Jason saw it and pounced on her instead.
“It’s no laughing matter, I assure you. I was hounded for years when I was younger; you wouldn’t believe some of the stratagems the harpies employed.”
Lenore arched one brow sceptically. “Why am I so convinced you would survive even their latest manoeuvres unscathed?”
Jason threw her a warning look. “Anyway, at our respective ages, no one will think marrying in four weeks the least odd.”
Lenore had her doubts but held her tongue. If marrying Eversleigh was to be her fate, and as he was so set on it, she might as well face it in four weeks as four months. Perhaps, with less time, she would not get so nervous over those duties she had not before performed.
“Your father has agreed,” Jason continued, watching her more carefully. “We’ll be married in Salisbury Cathedral. One of my father’s cousins is the present bishop—my family have a long association with the bishopric. Jack and I will handle the arrangements. Harry and Gerald will travel with your aunt and father to Salisbury.”
Struck dumb, Lenore simply stared.
After an instant’s hesi
tation, Jason embarked on his plans for her. “We assumed you’d wish to use the time to refurbish your wardrobe. Jack has agreed to stay back until Tuesday. He’ll escort you to town then. As your aunt cannot act as chaperon, my aunt, Lady Agatha Colebatch, will perform that duty. I believe you’re acquainted with her?”
Stunned, overwhelmed, Lenore nodded. “She’s one of Aunt Harriet’s oldest friends.”
“Good. I don’t think she’s in town at present. It may take me a day or two to track her down. She’ll know which modiste to take you to. As I’ve persuaded your father to allow me to foot the bill, you may order what you please.”
Lenore blinked. “But…but that’s not…”
Jason waved one hand dismissively. “Your father and Jack have agreed.”
Beyond amazed, Lenore stared up at him. “Tell me, do you always organise people’s lives for them?”