LITMIR.BIZ

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so very like this bitter man that he had to get right away from people, immerse himself in the business of running his racing stables. ‘Write to me at Ely.’

      He had been only too glad to leave the matter entirely in his mother’s hands, knowing that she had a network of acquaintances among England’s noble families that stretched as far from London as it was possible to go. If there was a woman who matched his requirements in a wife, his mother would know where to find her. Someone who would be content to bear his name and his children, he had stipulated, and not expect him to dance attendance on her. He could just about tolerate having a wife who was well bred enough to know she must never attempt to interfere with his lifestyle.

      His faith in her had soon borne fruit. Not long after Stephen, a man he had first met in Captain Fawley’s gloomily shuttered rooms, had run him to ground at Ely, she had written to inform him that her goddaughter, Julia Gregory, was available and willing. If he did not like her, she had a younger sister who was reputedly very pretty as well. The family was large, she had added. Lady Susan had given her husband two male heirs, as well as four daughters, and was still in robust health. He understood the implication that if he married one of her daughters, they were more than likely to provide him with a clutch of healthy offspring. They were not wealthy, but she felt bold enough to put their names forward, because he had not stipulated that having a dowry was of much relevance. Their main attraction must be that they were unknown, and as such would infuriate all the ambitious women he wished to put firmly in their place. He had smiled ruefully at his mother’s complete understanding of his unspoken wishes, and decided he might as well marry one of the Gregory girls, if they would have him.

      Of course they would have him, she had written in reply. They were too poor to have romantic notions about marriage. An offer from a man of his wealth would seem like a godsend. They would take him on any terms he cared to name. Since she knew he was spending Christmas at Stanthorne, the hunting box he kept near York, she suggested he get over to Beckforth, which was less than a day’s drive away, and clinch the deal. That way, he could marry before the Season got under way.

      ‘I like their mother too,’ Stephen said, causing Lord Lensborough to eye him in frank disbelief. Lady Susan had come bouncing down the front steps to greet him when he had arrived that afternoon, her arms outstretched as though she meant to embrace him. Stephen had found it hard not to laugh as the insular Lord Lensborough recoiled from such a vulgar display of enthusiasm. ‘No, really. Almost as much as I like Sir Thomas.’

      Lord Lensborough scowled. The reception he had received from Sir Thomas had been as different as it was possible to be from his wife’s. When the butler had first brought them down to this room to await dinner, Sir Thomas had positively glowered at them as they went to join him by the roaring fire. When he had asked them if they had any complaints to make about their rooms, he was almost sure the man expected to hear a whole litany of them.

      Lord Lensborough had been taken aback when the butler had led them into what appeared to be a disused wing of the house. Although, looking around the room now at the Gregory family’s lack of decorum, he could appreciate the man’s explanation that Hester, whom he had assumed was the housekeeper, hoped the apartments would afford him some privacy. Stephen had replied that he liked the fact that their shared sitting room overlooked the stables, and appreciated the information that a fire would always be kept alight in case they wanted to retreat there.

      ‘It is a very cosy set-up,’ he had said generously.

      Lord Lensborough had not been able to draw any comfort from that fire. No sooner had he sunk into one of the squashy leather chairs drawn up before it and stretched out his feet to the flames, than an image of a shivering woman in soaking clothes, reproach in her moss-green eyes, had pricked at his conscience. He ought not to have left her standing in the lane like that. But he had been so infuriated by his groom’s callous disregard of her plight, that he had decided his only recourse, if he was not to dismiss the man from his job on the spot, was to remove him from the scene and let his anger cool. He was sure he could trace the woman later. How many red-haired shrews could a village the size of Beckforth contain, after all? Leaping from the armchair, he had summoned his valet and instructed him to begin the search. He gave the man enough money for the woman to buy several changes of decent clothing to replace the ones she had been wearing, and something over to compensate for her distress. He was absolutely not the sort of person who thought nothing of running a member of the lower orders off the road whilst in pursuit of a sporting wager.

      ‘Aye…’ Sir Thomas nodded ‘…Hester assured me it would be once we got the chimneys swept. My sister always lays claim to the blue room when she comes, and short of turning her out…’

      Lord Lensborough wondered why they had not simply requested he come at a different time, if they already had a house full of guests, none of whom he particularly wished to meet. He had not been able to keep the irritation from his voice when he had said, ‘I hope we have not caused you inconvenience, Sir Thomas.’

      Sir Thomas had snorted. ‘Nay, for it is not me that sees to the running of the household. Hester is the one who has had all the extra work. And you may as well know right now that I do not intend to alter any of my plans for this week because you have invited yourself into my home. My lord, I made up my mind that you would not inconvenience me, do you see? You have come to find out what my girls are like, you say. Well, we are not sophisticated folk, and you won’t find me trying to impress you by pretending otherwise. You must take us as you find us.’

      ‘Do I take it,’ Lord Lensborough had replied, his voice at its most glacial, ‘that you do not approve of my intention to marry one of your daughters?’

      His host had shrugged. ‘’Twould make no difference if I did—their silly hearts are set on it.’

      While he was still reeling from this insult, Sir Thomas had cocked his head and observed, ‘Though you are somewhat younger than I was led to believe. How old are you, exactly?’

      ‘Eight and twenty.’

      ‘Quite fit, too, by the looks of you.’ Sir Thomas had run his eye over Lord Lensborough’s physique with obvious approval. No need for padding in his coat to make his shoulders look broad. His lordship’s shoulders were broad, the stomach beneath the neat, plain waistcoat was flat, and the muscularity of his thighs and calves was clearly delineated by the snug fit of formal knee breeches and black silk stockings.

      ‘Oh, don’t poker up like that.’ Sir Thomas had matched Lord Lensborough’s affronted frown with one of his own. ‘If you are going to be my son-in-law, then you’ll have to get used to my blunt speaking. I ain’t the sort of chap to smile in your face and speak ill behind your back. You’ll always know exactly where you stand with me.’

      ‘And where, precisely, is that, sir?’

      ‘How the devil would I know? I’ve only just clapped eyes on you.’

      While Stephen had nearly choked with the effort of keeping a straight face, Sir Thomas had walked away, and only returned sporadically, to introduce the various members of his family as they made their way into the enormous reception room.

      ‘It looks to me,’ Stephen remarked, ‘as though this week is going to be an educational experience for you, Lensborough.’

      ‘I can certainly confess that I have never come across anything quite like the Gregory family en masse,’ he replied grimly.

      ‘The house adds a certain piquancy to the affair too, does it not? It could have been designed for the purpose, all those unexpected alcoves and staircases, passages leading to odd forgotten rooms where nobody goes any more.’

      ‘In some of which we are being forced to sleep. Did you smell the mildew in the corridors? The Holme is a rabbit warren—each successive generation since the Norman conquest seems to have tacked on whatever additions were currently in vogue with no thought to overall harmony—’

      ‘Oh, come. You could not wish for a more fortunate place to go courting two pretty girls at the same time.’

      Lord Lensborough glowered at the two pretty girls in question. They were sitting

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