Tangled Reins (Regencies 1)

Peterborough whirled around, an entirely unacceptable oath on his lips. ‘Hazelmere!’ he groaned. ‘I might have known!’ As the Marquis possessed himself of Dorothea’s hand he continued, ‘I suppose you have the supper waltz?’

‘Precisely,’ said Hazelmere, his amused glance clearly baiting his friend.

Lord Peterborough turned to Dorothea and in a serious tone, belied by the expression on his face, said, ‘I shouldn’t have anything to do with Hazelmere if I were you, Miss Darent. Don’t know if anyone’s told you, but he’s far too dangerous for young ladies to deal with. Much better to let me take you away.’

Dorothea laughed at this graceless speech. But Hazelmere’s voice again drew Peterborough’s attention. ‘Oh, Miss Darent knows just how dangerous I am, Gerry.’ At this outrageous statement Dorothea’s eyes blazed. Looking up, she found the hazel eyes quizzing her as he continued smoothly, ‘But she has agreed to overlook my dangerous tendencies. Haven’t you, Miss Darent?’

Aware that to answer this provocative question in any way at all would be highly improper, Dorothea threw him a fulminating glance.

Smiling, he turned back to Peterborough and said, quite simply, ‘Goodbye, Gerry.’

‘Oh, I’m off, never fear. Take care, Miss Darent!’ he added insouciantly as, sketching a bow to her, he disappeared into the crowd.

Turning to Dorothea, Hazelmere saw she had opened her fan. ‘You’re flushed, Miss Darent. Now I wonder if that’s due to these overheated rooms, the Roger de Clovely, Peterborough’s remarks or mine?’

Smiling up at him, she calmly answered, ‘Why, a combination of all four, I should think.’

‘Then, instead of waiting for the next dance, why don’t we repair to the terrace, where I see quite a few others have already gone to enjoy the cool of the evening?’

Looking in the direction he indicated, Dorothea saw that the long windows at the end of the ballroom giving out on to the terrace had been thrown open. A number of couples were strolling in the moonlight. She had definite misgivings of the wisdom of venturing into such a fairy-tale scene at Hazelmere’s side, but she was certainly feeling overly warm and the cool night air beckoned invitingly.

Hazelmere, correctly guessing her thoughts, made her decision for her by taking her arm. Together they strolled through the windows. Dorothea exclaimed at the sight of the formal gardens touched with moonlight. A few adventuresome couples had descended to the parterre below, where they appeared as pixie-like characters in the soft light. Without breaking the spell, Hazelmere strolled by her side to the far end of the terrace. He had a very good memory. There was an orangery built along the side of the house below the ballroom which could only be reached from the terrace. Knowing the Duchess of Richmond was a considerate hostess, he felt the orangery would be open. Coming to the end of the terrace and turning, he found that his confidence in the Duchess had not been misplaced.

‘There’s an orangery down these steps, which, if memory serves, gives on to the fountain court. Shall we investigate?’

The question was merely a formality. Dorothea was literally enthralled by the silvery beauty about her and, without thought, went down the steps by his side.

Inside the orangery, deserted save for themselves, they found the doors giving on to the fountain court thrown wide. Hearing the music of the fountains, Dorothea drew her hand from his arm and, looking very like a fairy queen, drifted to the open door to look out on the magical scene. The three fountains in the court were playing and the moonlight glistened and sparkled on each drop of water thrown up in the still night air to fall back with a silvery tinkle into the large marble bowls. She stood in the doorway, rapt in the beauty of the scene.

Silently Hazelmere shut the doors from the terrace and, coming up behind her, gently drew her back to lean against him. Feeling his hands about her waist, she allowed her head to rest against his shoulder. For some moments they were as still as the statues in the fountains. Then, prompted by her own particular devil, Dorothea turned her head to smile up at him. There was, after all, one certain way to precipitate matters.

His response was all she could have wished. Turning her slightly, Hazelmere swiftly bent his head to drop the gentlest of delicate kisses on her lips. As he raised his head her eyes opened wide. For one long moment they remained perfectly still, the hazel and green gazes fusing in the moonlight. Then, slowly, he turned her fully and deliberately drew her into his arms. She lifted her face and his lips found hers in a kiss that possessed her senses with gentle certainty. With infinite care he started her sensual education, his caresses deepening by imperceptible degrees so that her senses were never overwhelmed, but taught, step by steady step, to savour the exquisite delight he created. His control was absolute and Dorothea, enfolded in his care, for the first time in her life, willingly let go of the reins.

She lost all track of time, gently led down paths where joy, as exquisite as dew on a buttercup, lay waiting to greet her. The sensual landscape conjured forth by his touch was a new frontier in which each discovery brought its own thrill. When, finally, he drew her back to reality she was dazed and breathless and exquisitely happy.

Then they were waltzing in the moonlit orangery to the music wafting through the open windows of the ballroom above. In no mood to protest, she gave herself up to the enjoyment of the moment. Hazelmere, looking down at her lovely face, serene and untroubled in the starlight, did likewise.

As the last chord sounded and they glided to a halt he firmly drew her arm through his and made for the door and the steps back to the terrace.

‘Do we have to leave?’ she asked, hanging back. ‘It’s so very lovely here.’

‘Yes,’ he replied uncompromisingly. If they stayed in this isolated spot a moment longer he knew very well what would happen. Which would all be very pleasant, except he had no idea what would happen next. After that little interlude he was no longer sure how far he could trust himself with her, and he had a shrewd suspicion that, innocent though she was, she was no more enamoured of the rules restricting their conduct tha

n he was. It was bad enough that he had to exercise restraint for the both of them, as he was magnanimously doing at present, but if she started pulling in the opposite direction the temptation to capitulate might become too great. He groaned inwardly and closed his eyes to rid his mind of the intoxicating possibilities the thought conjured up. Opening them again, he tightened his grip on her arm and inexorably drew her back up the steps to the terrace. ‘If we are missing at supper, your grandmama will have all her worst fears concerning me confirmed and will in all probability forbid me to speak to you!’

As she imagined the likelihood of his paying any attention to Lady Merion’s strictures, a small, happy smile curved Dorothea’s lips, and she allowed him to lead her back into the ballroom.

Almost immediately they came face to face with Edward Buchanan. ‘Miss Darent, you’re flushed! Perhaps I might take you for a walk in the gardens? I’m sure Lord Hazelmere will excuse you.’ The accusatory look he cast Hazelmere nearly did for Dorothea.

Hazelmere, who knew very well the cause of the delicate flush still apparent on her alabaster skin, smiled in a devilish way that brought his reputation forcibly to Edward Buchanan’s mind, and said, ‘On the contrary! Lord Hazelmere is about to escort Miss Darent to supper. If you will excuse us?’

Receiving a curt nod, Edward Buchanan found his quarry had somehow side-stepped him and escaped. The first uneasy glimmer that Miss Darent might fall prey to the wicked blandishments of tonnish society awoke in his unimaginative mind.

Out of earshot, Dorothea asked, ‘Am I really flushed?’ She felt delightful; not uncomfortable at all.

She could not interpret the slow grin that spread across the Marquis’s face. ‘Delightfully so,’ was all the answer she got.

After much stopping to talk to acquaintances on the way, they finally gained the supper-room. Fanshawe and Cecily had saved them seats at a corner table well provided with an array of delicacies. As Hazelmere helped Dorothea to her chair Fanshawe, after one glance at her, caught his friend’s eye, his look clearly stating that he had every idea of what they had been up to. Hazelmere grinned back.