Tangled Reins (Regencies 1)

Relieved to see him no longer in the hips, Fanshawe turned back to assure an excited and insistent Cecily that he would take her to see the fountain court.

When they rose from the table Fanshawe said to Hazelmere, ‘Don’t forget your promise to your mother! I’ve kept my side of it. I couldn’t bear it if she was to quiz us all the way back to Cavendish Square.’

‘Ye gods! I’d forgotten.’ Hazelmere turned his most charming smile on Dorothea. ‘Miss Darent, my mother is here somewhere in this mêlée and has made me promise to introduce you. Will you allow me to take you to her?’

She raised her fine brows, but consented to be led on a search for the Marchioness. As she moved through the crowd on Hazelmere’s arm she could not resist saying, ‘I’m tempted to ask why Lord Fanshawe is so anxious you keep your promise.’

Laughing down at her, he replied, ‘I wouldn’t if I were you. The answer would do nothing for your composure.’ The caress in his eyes made her feel decidedly odd.

He finally located his mother, seated on a chaise in a corner of one of the salons, busily chatting to an acquaintance. On seeing them approach, this lady tactfully withdrew and Hazelmere made the promised introduction.

Lady Hazelmere had been prepared by her friends’ letters to find Dorothea Darent a particularly pretty girl. The stunning goddess her son introduced was considerably more attractive than she had anticipated. She smiled delightedly at this vision in ivory satin.

Motioning Dorothea to sit beside her, the Dowager made very large eyes at her son, signifying how impressed she was by his taste. Hazelmere, correctly interpreting the glance, returned it with a smile clearly saying, ‘Well, what did you expect?’ Receiving in reply an unmistakable sign that she wished to be left alone with Miss Darent, he had little choice but to obey. Making his adieus to Dorothea, he bethought himself of another matter and departed to find Lady Merion.

Relieved of his distracting presence, Lady Hazelmere found that she was being regarded by an enormous pair of green eyes. With an ease born of long experience, she instituted a conversation on totally unexceptionable matters, carefully steering clear of any mention of her son. She quickly discovered that the child before her had poise and confidence, combined with a refreshing frankness. It was not difficult to understand her son’s desire for the lovely Miss Darent. That he meant marriage she had no doubt, else he would never have consented to introduce her. As their conversation progressed she discovered that humour and a ready wit could be added to Miss Darent’s charms and was well satisfied with his choice.

By the time Lord Alvanley came to claim Dorothea for the last dance of the evening Lady Hazelmere was wondering how much longer her son would wait. As Dorothea moved away on Alvanley’s arm she wondered whether his conquest of the elegant young woman would be as smooth as he would certainly expect. In a flash of very unmaternal feeling she hoped that, for Dorothea’s sake, it would not be quite that easy. Hazelmere was far too used to getting his own way—a set-down would make him much more human.

Chapter Eight

The next afternoon found the Marquis perusing various documents dealing with estate business which his mother had brought from Hazelmere. Over the years he had developed the habit of paying flying visits to his numerous estates while stationed in London for the Season, fitting these between his social engagements. This year, however, he had neglected business while pursuing Miss Darent. Never a lax landlord, he knew he could not put off visiting Hazelmere.

Glancing up at the clock on the mantel, he saw it lacked a quarter to three o’clock. The weather was fine, with a light breeze tossing the cherry blossoms from the trees in the Square. He rang for Mytton and gave orders for his curricle with the greys to be brought to the door immediately. He then went upstairs to throw a series of orders at Murgatroyd’s head. Ten minutes later, immaculate as ever in top-boots and a coat of Bath superfine, he descended the steps of Hazelmere House. Climbing to the box-seat of his curricle, he nodded a dismissal to Jim Hitchin, adding, ‘Be ready to leave for Hazelmere when I return.’

He tooled the curricle around to the other side of the square and pulled up outside Merion House. Tossing the reins to an urchin, he strode up the steps to the door. He was admitted by Mellow. ‘Is her ladyship in, Mellow?’

‘I regret to say, her ladyship is presently unavailable, my lord.’

Hazelmere frowned. ‘In that case, perhaps you’ll enquire whether Miss Darent can spare me a few minutes?’

‘Certainly, my lord.’

Mellow showed him into the drawing-room and left to find Miss Darent. Climbing the stairs, he wondered if he should risk awakening his employer. After weighing the matter, he rejected the idea. His lordship had his horses with him and would not like to keep them standing. Finding Miss Darent alone in the upstairs drawing-room, he conveyed his lordship’s message.

Dorothea, their visit to the Richmond House orchangery in mind, was unsure of the propriety of seeing Hazelmere alone. But Cecily had gone out driving with Lord Fanshawe, and Lady Merion had still not emerged from her bedchamber. So she descended to the drawing-room but cautiously left the door open when she entered.

Hazelmere, on whom such little subtleties were not lost, smiled warmly as he took her hand, kissed it and, as was fast becoming his habit, did not release it.

‘Miss Darent, will you come for a drive in the Park with me?’

Ferdie had told her that Hazelmere, for the most chauvinistic of reasons, rarely took ladies driving in the Park. She was therefore perfectly conscious of the honour being done her. Deciding that she could not possibly forgo such an invitation, she replied with alacrity, ‘Why, yes, if you’ll give me time to find my pelisse.’

Releasing her hand, Hazelmere, long inured to feminine ideas of time, felt constrained to add, ‘Ten minutes, no more!’

Dorothea laughed over her shoulder as she disap

peared from the room. She surprised him by returning in less than ten minutes and, as they left the house, revealed something of her knowledge of him by exclaiming, ‘Good heavens! You have your greys!’

Retrieving the reins and suitably rewarding the attendant urchin, Hazelmere climbed to the driving seat. As he leant down to help her up to sit beside him he answered, ‘As you say, Miss Darent, my greys. And what do you know of my greys?’

This shaft fell wide, however, as she could reply with perfect composure, ‘Ferdie told me you rarely drive your greys in the Park.’

Ferdie had told her rather more than this. Hazelmere’s greys were considered to be the fastest and best matched pair in the country. His lordship, if Ferdie was to be believed, had been offered vast sums for them but, as he had bred and reared them on the Henry estates, he would not part with them for any price.

‘Ah, Ferdie,’ mused Hazelmere, suddenly seeing that Ferdie’s line in inside intelligence could become a two-way street.

Conversation was necessarily suspended as he gave all his attention to negotiating the crowded streets, with the high-couraged and restless greys taking exception to numerous sights and sounds along the way. Dorothea could only admire his skill in successfully gaining the gates of the Park. Once inside, the curricle tooled along at a decent pace and Hazelmere turned his attention to her.