The Reasons for Marriage by Stephanie Laurens

Author:Stephanie Laurens
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: 0
Published: 2007-11-12T02:42:02+00:00

CHAPTER EIGHT

As the Colebatch carriage rumbled down Park Lane, Lenore clutched at the edge of her velvet evening cloak, her expression serene, her stomach a hard knot of apprehension. Her silk gown was entirely concealed by the dark green cloak, one Eversleigh, sitting opposite her, had ordered. Although the evening was fine, there was just enough chill in the air to excuse her need for warmth; she had been cloaked and waiting when he had arrived to escort them to Attlebridge House.

Beside her, Agatha was in high gig, resplendent in midnight-blue bombazine with a peacock feather adorning her black turban. Her patrician features were animated, her black eyes alert. It was plain she expected to enjoy the evening immensely. Lenore swallowed, easing the nervous flutter in her throat, and risked a glance at Eversleigh. Superb in severe black, his ivory cravat a work of art, her fiance was the epitome of the elegant man about town. His heavy signet glittered on his right hand; a single gold fob hung from the pocket of his embossed silk waistcoat.

His features were in shadow but, when they passed a street-lamp, Lenore found his grey eyes steady on hers. Her breath caught in her throat. He smiled, gently, reassuringly. Lenore returned the smile and, looking away, wondered whether she was that transparent.

In an effort to distract herself from the coming ordeal, she reviewed the list of those Montgomerys she was shortly to meet. Thanks to Agatha, she had the immediate family committed to memory.

Given that she was already acquainted with Eversleigh's aunts, she felt few qualms about the social hurdles facing her tonight. It was an entirely different hurdle, one she had erected herself, that had her nerves in unanticipated disarray.

True to his word, Eversleigh had arrived to drive her in the Park that afternoon armed with a copy of all three hundred names on their guest list. She had spared a thought for the unfortunate Compton, required to produce the copy in less than twenty-four hours. At Agatha's suggestion she had restricted her queries to those of his friends included on the list, leaving the family connections to be later clarified by Agatha. Any awkwardness that might have existed had been ameliorated by her shy thanks tendered for the present he had sent her that morning.

That had been extremely disconcerting. She had returned with Agatha from a most successful expedition—bonnets, gloves, slippers and boots had consumed most of their morning, leaving her with little opportunity to dwell on the iniquitous behaviour of her fiance—to discover a package addressed to herself, left in Higgson's care. Removing the wrappings, she had discovered a pair of soft kid half-boots in precisely the same shade of cherry-red as her new pelisse, together with a pair of matching pigskin gloves. Accompanying these had been a chip bonnet with long cherry ribbons. There had been no card.

Agatha had crowed.

Any doubts she had harboured over who had sent her such a gift had been laid to rest when she had tried on the boots in her chamber, exclaiming over their perfect fit.

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