A Lady Of Expectations

Set against a Regency backdrop, in A Lady of Expectations, Stephanie Laurens introduces the Lester family. The Lesters were the first family Stephanie created where different books dealt with the romances of siblings, and as such were the precursors of many of Stephanie’s subsequent books.

In A Lady of Expectations, Lenore’s oldest brother Jack discovers that wooing the lady of his choice requires far more effort than he’s imagined!

Stephanie lives in a suburb of Melbourne, Australia, with her husband and two daughters. To learn more about Stephanie’s books visit her website at www.stephanielaurens.com.

Also byStephanie Laurens

THE REASONS FOR MARRIAGE

AN UNWILLING CONQUEST A COMFORTABLE WIFE

A Lady of Expectations

StephanieLaurens

www.mirabooks.co.uk

“LADY ASFORDBY, OF ASFORDBY GRANGE, requests the pleasure of the company of Mr. Jack Lester, of Rawling’s Cottage, and guests, at a ball.”

Ensconced in an armchair by the fireplace, a glass of brandy in one long-fingered hand, the white card of Lady Asfordby’s invitation in the other, Jack Lester made the pronouncement with ill-disguised gloom.

“She’s the grand dame of these parts, ain’t she?” Lord Percy Almsworthy was the second of the three gentlemen taking their ease in the parlour of Jack’s hunting box. Outside, the wind howled about the eaves and tugged at the shutters. All three had ridden to hounds that day, taking the field with the Quorn. But while both Jack and his brother Harry, presently sprawled on the chaise, were clipping riders, up with the best of them, Percy had long ago taken Brummel’s lead, indefatigable in turning out precise to a pin but rarely venturing beyond the first field. Which explained why he was now idly pacing the room, restless, while the brothers lounged, pleasantly exhausted, with the look about them of men not willing to stir. Pausing by the fireplace, Percy looked down on his host. “Lend a bit of colour to your stay, what? Besides,” he added, turning to amble once more, “You never know—might see a golden head that takes your eye.”

“In this backwater?” Jack snorted. “If I couldn’t find any golden head worth the attention last Season—nor during the Little Season—I don’t give much for my chances here.”

“Oh, I don’t know.” Unconsciously elegant, Harry Lester lounged on the chaise, one broad shoulder propped against a cushion, his thick golden locks rakishly dishevelled. His sharply intelligent green eyes wickedly quizzed his elder brother. “You seem remarkably set on this start of yours. As finding a wife has become so important to you, I should think it behoves you to turn every stone. Who knows which one hides a gem?”

Blue eyes met green. Jack grunted and looked down. Absent-mindedly, he studied the gilt-edged card. Firelight glinted over the smooth waves of his dark hair and shadowed his lean cheeks. His brow furrowed.

He had to marry. He had inwardly acknowledged that fact more than twenty months ago, even before his sister, Lenore, had married the Duke of Eversleigh, leaving the burden of the family squarely on his shoulders.

“Perseverance—that’s what you need.” Percy nodded to no one in particular. “Can’t let another Season go by without making your choice—waste your life away if you’re too finicky.”

“I hate to say it, old son,” Harry said. “But Percy’s right. You can’t seriously go for years looking over the field, turning your nose up at all the offerings.” Taking a sip of his brandy, he eyed his brother over the rim of his glass. His green eyes lit with an unholy gleam. “Not,” he added, his voice soft, “unless you allow your good fortune to become known.”

“Heaven forbid!” Eyes narrowing, Jack turned to Harry. “And just in case you have any ideas along that track, perhaps I should remind you that it’s our good fortune—yours and mine and Gerald’s, too?” Features relaxing, Jack sank back in his chair, a smile erasing the severe line of his lips. “Indeed, the chance of seeing you playing catch-me-who-can with all the enamoured damsels is sorely tempting, brother mine.”

Harry grinned and raised his glass. “Fear not—that thought has already occurred. If the ton stumbles onto our secret, it won’t be through me. And I’ll make a point of dropping a quiet word in our baby brother’s ear, what’s more. Neither you nor I need him queering our pitch.”

“Too true.” Jack shuddered artistically. “The prospect does not bear thinking of.”

Percy was frowning. “I can’t see it. Why not let it out that you’re all as rich as bedammed? God knows, you Lesters have been regarded as nothing more than barely well-to-do for generations. Now that’s changed, why not reap the rewards?” His guileless expression was matched by his next words. “The debs would be yours for the asking—you could take your pick.”

Both Lester men bent looks of transparent sympathy upon their hapless friend.

Bewildered, Percy blinked and patiently waited to be set aright.