Stephanie Laurens Rogues' Reform Bundle by Stephanie Laurens Read Free Book Online Page A

fact that any lady would refuse him.”
    Lenore swallowed a snort. At sixteen, Amelia had dutifully acceded to her parents’ wishes and married a man forty years her senior. Widowed at the age of twenty-three, left with a respectable jointure and no protector, she was ripe game for the wolves of the ton . Determined not to be pressured into another loveless union, Amelia spent her days endeavouring to avoid a union of less respectable state. The gentlemen of the ton , however, had yet to accept the fact that the widowed Lady Wallace felt in no pressing need of male protection.
    Fleeing London and the importunings of Lord Rothesay, Amelia had come first to her relatives in Berkshire. “I’m sure a few months will be sufficient to cool Rothesay’s ardour. I had planned to go to stay with Aunt Mary but she won’t be back in Bath before the end of the month.” Amelia scanned the crowd, swelling as the gentlemen strolled in, forsaking their port for feminine company.
    â€œAs Jack said, you’re always welcome here.” When Amelia continued to consider the gentlemen as they strolled through the door, Lenore asked, “There is none here who has caused you any bother, is there?”
    â€œNo.” Amelia shook her head. “I was just checking for any potential problems.” Linking arms with Lenore, she smiled up at her. “Don’t fret. I’m sure I’ll manage to survive Jack and Harry’s crowd. They all seem to be well-heeled enough not to need my money and well-mannered enough to accept a dismissal. I must say, though, that I’m surprised to see Eversleigh here.”
    â€œOh?” Conscious of a sharp stab of curiosity, Lenore strolled beside Amelia. “Why so?”
    â€œI had heard,” Amelia said, lowering her voice conspiratorially, “that he’s decided to marry. I’d have thought he’d be playing host to a collection of the fairest debs and their doting mamas at Eversleigh Abbey, rather than enjoying the delights of one of your brothers’ little gatherings.”
    Aware of a sunken sinking feeling, Lenore resisted the compulsion to turn and look for Eversleigh in the crowd. “I hadn’t considered him the marrying sort, somehow.”
    â€œExactly so! The story is that he had no intention of succumbing. His brother was to keep the line going. But he—the brother, I mean—was killed at Waterloo. So now Eversleigh must make the ultimate sacrifice.”
    Lenore’s lips twitched. “I wonder if he considers it in that light?”
    â€œUndoubtedly,” Amelia averred. “He’s a rake, isn’t he? Anyway, from everything I’ve heard and seen, it’s the poor soul he takes to wife who deserves our pity. Eversleigh’s a handsome devil and can be utterly charming when the mood takes him. It would be hard work to remain aloof from all that masculine appeal. Unfortunately, His Grace is reputed to be impervious to the softer emotions, one of the old school in that regard. I can’t see him falling a victim to Cupid and reforming. His poor wife will probably end in thrall and have her heart broken.”
    Brows rising, Lenore considered Amelia’s prediction. “Charming” was not the word she would have chosen to describe Eversleigh; the power he wielded was far stronger than mere charm. Suppressing an odd shiver, she decided that, all in all, Amelia was right. The future Lady Eversleigh was to be sincerely pitied.
    Leaving her cousin with Lady Henslaw, Lenore paused by the side of the room. Under pretext of straightening the upstanding collar of her chemisette, she glanced about, eventually locating Eversleigh conversing with her father, ensconced in his chair by the fireplace. The sight brought a frown to Lenore’s eyes. Listening to her father’s reminiscences seemed an unlikely joy for a man of Eversleigh’s tastes. Still, she was hardly an expert on what a