Tangled Reins (Regencies 1)

However, the questions that increasingly occupied her mind were concerned with his reasons for choosing her. They were starting to disturb her sleep. He had to marry some time, that much was obvious. But why her? Was he in love with her or was she merely convenient? How did he see her? A challenge to be overcome, a suitable connection, the granddaughter of one of his mother’s closest friends, a woman of common sense, not so beautiful as to require constant vigilance? Or did he see something more? By all the tenets of her class, it should not matter one jot. But to her it mattered a great deal. She was in the enviable position of not having to wed unless she wished it. But, if their relationship continued to develop along its present course, refusing him if and when he offered might prove difficult. But when it came to ascertaining Hazelmere’s motives she faced a problem—how could she tell? He was a man of considerable experience and ready charm. If he merely wanted a conformable wife, one who would interfere little with his established pursuits, then it would be, she reasoned, entirely in character for his arrogant lordship to choose, as the easiest route, to make a country miss fall in love with him and so more readily accept his suit.

Her inability to divine his motives was frustrating. Still, as things stood, there was little she could do. The reins were at present very much in his hands. With little scope for manoeuvre, the best she could do was enjoy his company and leave all difficult questions until they demanded an answer.

Chapter Six

The Saturday before the Darent sisters’ coming-out ball saw them riding in the Park, a daily treat organised by the enterprising Ferdie. He was now firmly established as their chief mentor and guide through the shoals of the Season, and had reached the position of being regarded by Dorothea, Cecily and even Lady Merion as part of their household.

The previous week he had decided that the Misses Darent would look well on horseback and had presented himself at Merion House with horses especially for them. Dorothea loved riding and even Cecily enjoyed a gentle canter, so he had not been disappointed with their reception of his idea. Within ten minutes both girls had changed into the elegant riding dresses Celestine had concocted and were on their way to the Park, escorted by the proud Ferdie and his shadow, Mr Dermont.

Attired in a severe sage-green outfit that showed off her figure to admiration, her glossy curls topped by a soft felt cloche with a beautiful peacock plume curling around her head, Dorothea had easily controlled a frisky bay mare. Cecily, quite happy with

her docile palfrey, had been a picture, turned out in a pale blue tunic with fur trimming over a darker blue skirt with a matching fur hat. Their first excursion had been a resounding success.

This afternoon, riding easily beside Ferdie, Dorothea heard herself addressed in a familiar, gently mocking voice.

‘What a very accomplished young lady you are, Miss Darent.’

Turning to meet the frankly admiring gaze of the Marquis of Hazelmere, Dorothea felt herself blushing. But, setting eyes on the beautiful black gelding he was riding, she involuntarily exclaimed, ‘Oh! What a magnificent animal!’

The magnificent animal took exception to her tone but was effortlessly held. ‘And with good taste, too! Which is more than can be said of this brute at present. He’s not been out for three days and is in an evil temper.’ The hazel eyes were fixed on her face. ‘Why don’t you come for a gallop, Miss Darent?’

Sorely tempted, she glanced around for her mentor, to find that Ferdie had unaccountably vanished.

‘Afraid?’ came that mocking voice again.

Dorothea threw caution to the winds. ‘Very well. But which way?’

‘Follow me.’ The black leapt forward down a wide ride reaching into the depths of the Park. Although the gelding was the superior animal, Hazelmere rode a great deal heavier than Dorothea. She was an accomplished rider and so was not far behind as he drew up in a wide arc in the clearing at the end of the ride. Not as strong, she pulled up in a wider arc, closer to the trees. A low branch swept her hat from her head.

Both were laughing with exhilaration as Hazelmere rode to where her hat lay and dismounted to retrieve it. She rode back and waited as he picked it up and dusted off the plume. Curling the feather in his hand, he walked to her side, but instead of handing the hat to her he reached up to place his hands about her waist.

‘Come down, Miss Darent.’

She considered refusing but had no idea how to without sounding missish or, worse, coquettish. Feeling the strength in the hands resting lightly at her waist and finding the hazel eyes amused as ever, she decided that boldness was her only answer. She slipped her feet free of her stirrups, and without effort he lifted her down to stand in front of him.

‘Stand still,’ he commanded and, freeing the long hat pin, expertly inserted it through her coiled hair to secure the hat in place. He ran his hand over the plume to settle it back around her face.

Dorothea found that she was looking into eyes which no longer laughed but glinted strangely. Mesmerised, she felt her own thoughts scatter to the four winds. She was acutely aware of the man before her and little else. She wondered for one moment if he was going to kiss her. But the next instant the mocking look returned and she was lifted back on to the mare.

‘At least I’ll return you to Ferdie in every way as immaculate as when I inveigled you away from his side.’ The cynical tone sounded odd to her ears.

Deflatingly bewildered, she felt a spurt of anger that he should tantalise her, only to withdraw at the last moment. She frowned and then nearly gasped as the indelicacy of her thoughts struck her. She wheeled her mount, horrified that he would see her blushing and guess the cause.

Hazelmere remounted, and without comment they moved back along the ride, soon falling into an easy canter. He had seen her delicate brows draw together but attributed the response to anger at his actions rather than frustration at his reticence.

They emerged from the trees and by unspoken consent turned up a slight rise and halted, looking for the others. The rest of the party was not far distant. Lord Fanshawe had joined the group and was deep in conversation with Cecily. Even from her present distance, Dorothea could see that her sister was entirely captivated. Ferdie and Mr Dermont had been joined by two cronies and all four were aimlessly wandering further and further from the dallying couple. It suddenly dawned on her that Ferdie’s judgement might not be infallible.

Assailed by sudden guilt, she realised that she, too, had been remiss. It would not be easy to explain why she had been alone with the Marquis of Hazelmere in a deserted ride. Thankfully she did not think they had been seen. But to leave Cecily virtually alone with Fanshawe in the middle of the Park! Really! Where had Ferdie’s wits gone begging?

A deep chuckle from beside her brought her green eyes back to Hazelmere’s face. The mocking gaze held hers steadily. ‘You really can’t blame Ferdie, you know. He would be as protective as you could wish were any others involved. But he would never see Fanshawe or myself as potentially threatening.’

She threw him an exasperated glance and headed off towards her sister. As she approached, Fanshawe looked up in surprise and lifted an enquiring eyebrow at Hazelmere, close behind. Dorothea did not need to see his answering laughing grimace to realise that, as far as her sister and herself were concerned, if Lords Hazelmere and Fanshawe were present the ‘safety in numbers’ maxim was unlikely to apply.

Seeing her quick frown, Cecily smiled sunnily, not the least bit discomfited, but she willingly brought her mount alongside as Dorothea turned towards the gate.

At that moment they were joined by Edward Buchanan, mounted on a showy cob. Hearing the news that the Darent sisters rode every day in the Park, he had conceived the happy notion that, while he might not shine in the ballroom, Miss Darent could not fail to be impressed by the vision of himself on a mettlesome steed. Unfortunately for him, his mettlesome steed, hired from a commercial stable, was far from elegant, being too long in the back and with a noticeable tendency to throw one leg.

Pulling up beside the group, he bowed to Dorothea. ‘Well met, Miss Darent.’