Faced with the candid query in her ladyship’s dark eyes, Lenore blushed slightly as she struggled to find words to explain how her betrothal had come about. “I’m afraid matters became rather tangled. As it transpired, I didn’t have a great deal of choice in the matter.”
She stopped, halted by her ladyship’s disgusted snort.
“Great heavens, Lenore! This really won’t do. Don’t tell me you, of all women, have allowed my arrogant nephew to ride roughshod over you already?” Incredulity infused her ladyship’s patrician features with an almost comic quality.
Lenore bit her lip and tried to explain. “It wasn’t so much that—he did not force me to agree. But it seemed, the way things had fallen out, that there really was no alternative.”
With a dramatic gesture, Lady Agatha fell back against the cushions. “Don’t tell me—I see it all. I hesitate to disillusion you, my dear, but that’s precisely why Eversleigh is so peculiarly successful in getting his own way. Things always fall out so that his way seems the only way. It’s a most trying habit. We?
??re all counting on you to break him of it.”
Somewhat startled, Lenore quickly disclaimed. “I greatly fear, Lady Agatha, that I’m unlikely to wield sufficient influence with His Grace to effect any such transformation.”
“Nonsense!” Lady Agatha viewed her sternly but not unkindly. “And you may call me Agatha. Eversleigh does, except when he’s being difficult. But as for your not being in a position to influence Eversleigh, my dear, I rather suspect you have not entirely comprehended the position you will fill.”
“We have discussed the matter,” Lenore began diffidently. “Within the bounds of my duties, I see little prospect for a…a closer interaction of the sort needed to… to—”
“Just as I suspected!” Agatha reclined more comfortably and prepared to set her charge straight. “Regardless of whatever…” she waved a hand airily “functional duties my nephew consented to discuss, you may be sure he did not choose you as his duchess, above all others, purely on the basis of your ability to carry out said duties. Jason may be a pragmatist when it comes to matrimony, but I’m convinced he would never offer for a woman he could not deal with on a personal level.”
“I believe we will deal very well together, Lenore…” Eversleigh’s words echoed in Lenore’s mind. Was this what he had meant?
“By personal,” Lady Agatha continued, “I do not mean the sort of association a gentleman may form with, for instance, one of the fashionable impures. That, I need hardly tell you, is something quite different.” She waved the indelicate subject aside. “No. The sort of relationship a man like Eversleigh will expect to share with his wife is one based on mutual respect and trust. If that is there, and I for one am sure it must be, then you need not fear, my dear. Eversleigh will listen to your arguments, your opinions. If, that is, you choose to tell him.”
The prospect her ladyship’s words conjured up held Lenore silent.
“That, of course, is why we hoped you’d accept his suit. Jason needs a duchess with character, and the ability to make herself heard, to act as a balancing force. To make him more human, if you take my meaning.”
Lenore was not entirely sure that she did, but the opening of the door brought a halt to her ladyship’s discourse.
“Yes, Higgson?” Lady Agatha waited while her butler ponderously bowed.
“You wished to be reminded that dinner would be served early, my lady,” Higgson stated, his voice as heavy as his movements. “Miss Lester’s maid is waiting in her room.”
“Thank you, Higgson.” Agatha turned to Lenore. “Eversleigh mentioned that your maid at Lester Hall would not be accompanying you to town and suggested I find a suitable girl. Trencher is my sister Attlebridge’s dresser’s niece. I’m sure she’ll know the ropes. But if she’s not to your liking, you have only to say and we’ll find another.”
Lenore blinked. “Thank you. I’m sure she’ll prove suitable.” Inwardly, she wondered how far Eversleigh’s organisational powers extended.
But, ten minutes later, having been sent upstairs with orders to rest and recuperate before dinner, Lenore found herself thankful her fiancé had had the forethought to solicit his aunt’s assistance. Trencher was a treasure. Of about Lenore’s age, she was small and deft in her movements, severely garbed in dark brown as befitted her station, her pale face intent under a neat cap. She had unpacked Lenore’s trunk, laying her brushes out upon the polished surface of the elegant dressing-table and had ordered a hot bath.
“I hope you’ll excuse the liberty, miss, but I thought as how you’d be bone-jarred, having travelled all day.”
Lenore sighed and smiled her approval. She was, in fact, feeling distinctly jolted, but was uncertain as to how much of the effect could be ascribed to her father’s well-sprung coach.
After a soothing soak, Trencher urged her to lie down on the luxuriously soft bed. “I’ll be sure to wake you in plenty of time to get dressed for dinner.”
Perfectly certain Trencher would not fail her, Lenore surrendered to what was, for her, a most unusual luxury. It was not, she told herself, as she climbed up on to the feather mattress, that she was tired. Rather, she could use a period of quiet reflection the better to analyse Agatha’s view of her marriage. Despite these intentions, she fell deeply asleep the instant her head touched the pillow.
When Trencher woke her an hour later, her maid had no comment to offer on her outmoded gowns. Lenore had packed only the most acceptable and had left her pinafores and her spectacles behind. Her days of concealment, she felt quite sure, were past. Viewing her reflection in the long cheval glass, she grimaced.
Trencher noticed. “It’ll only be for tonight, miss. Her ladyship said as how Lafarge’d be sure to be able to make something up straight away for a customer like you. And there’s no company tonight, just you and her ladyship, so you’ve no need to blush.”
After blinking several times, Lenore decided not to reveal her ignorance by questioning Trencher. She reserved her questions for Agatha, waiting until they were comfortably seated about one end of the dining table, with only Higgson hovering nearby.
“Who, exactly, is Lafarge?”
“Ah! Trencher mentioned her, did she?” Agatha looked up from her soup. “Quite the most exclusive modiste in London, my dear. She’s agreed to do your wardrobe, which, let me tell you, would be a boon to any lady. A positive genius with gowns of all types. We’re expected at her salon at ten tomorrow.”
“That’s why I have to look my best?”