Tangled Reins (Regencies 1)

As they slowly made their way across the wide room, pausing to bid goodbye to departing guests, Dorothea saw Lady Alison pause by her brother, dragging on his arm to get his attention. For a moment Hazelmere listened as she spoke, clearly relating some message. Then she swiftly drew his head down to plant an affectionate kiss on his cheek and, with a cheerful wave, hurried to join her husband by the stairs.

By this time they had come up to the Marquis, who was conversing with an opulent beauty introduced earlier to Dorothea as Helen, Lady Walford. The four remained chatting for a few minutes as the company in the ballroom thinned. Then Lord Alvanley suavely offered Lady Walford his arm and, after taking their leave of Dorothea, they left.

Hazelmere, seeing the appreciative grin on her face, said, ‘Yes, Alvanley and I are very good friends.’ Her smile deepened. After a pause he continued, ‘My dear Dorothea, are you planning to ride in the Park tomorrow?’

This succeeded in capturing her attention from a group of guests nodding their goodbyes. ‘Why, yes, I think so,’ she replied.

‘In that case, Ferdie and I, and probably Tony as well, will call for you at ten. Don’t be late!’ He kissed her hand and, recognising the portent of the flash in her green eyes, drew it through his arm; before she had time to tell him what she thought of his organisation of her morning, he strolled with her up the steps to her grandmother.

Lady Merion was exhausted. The evening had been an unqualified success, although in her opinion it would have proved less enervating if Dorothea and Hazelmere had been less accomplished dancers. However, she was not going to cavil at such a minor point and was in total charity with the world. Seeing them come up out of the deserted ballroom, she beamed. ‘My dears! Such a success it’s been!’

‘And all due to you, Grandmama!’ replied Dorothea, impulsively hugging the old lady.

‘Now be off with you, child!’ said her ladyship gruffly. ‘Cecily has already retired. I’m sure Lord Hazelmere will excuse you.’

Hazelmere lifted her hand from his sleeve and, elegantly dropping a kiss on her wrist, said, ‘Goodnight, Dorothea. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.’

With another glance of green fire she was gone.

Lady Merion watched this exchange and, once her granddaughter was out of earshot, said, ‘You do play close to the wind.’

‘Only with your granddaughter,’ came the outrageous reply. As she gasped he continued, ‘Am I correct in thinking the horrible Herbert that gorgeous creature’s guardian?’

Knowing she was being distracted from her main grievance, she was forced to reply, ‘Yes, unfortunately.’

‘No matter.’ He shrugged, turning to take his leave.

But she had no intention of letting him escape so easily. Fixing him with a look that forcibly reminded him of his mother, she asked, ‘When are you going to ask for her hand?’

‘In my own good time,’ he returned, unperturbed by this direct inquisition.

‘So you intend to offer for her?’

At that he smiled. ‘Do you doubt it?’

‘After that first waltz, no one present could doubt it!’ she retorted acerbically.

‘Which is precisely as I intended.’ With a smile of unruffled calm he bowed elegantly before descending the stairs.

Lady Merion watched his retreating back. For some reason she felt that, in spite of his cool handling of the affair, which she could not but applaud for the eminent good sense it showed, his success so far had been unnaturally easy. In her experience, headstrong young women like Dorothea were unlikely to appreciate his calm management of the affair. No, my lord, she thought, there’s trouble ahead somewhere.

Chapter Nine

The riding party the next morning was a relaxed affair. From Cavendish Square came the Darent sisters, Hazelmere, Fanshawe, Ferdie and Mr Dermont. At the gates of the Park they were joined by Lord Harcourt and Miss Bressington. There were few others about at that hour, despite the clemency of the weather. Before long the three couples had parted, to amble down the glades and rides, totally absorbed with each other, while Ferdie and Mr Dermont were deep in discussion over the latest type of suiting.

As was often the case when she was alone in Hazelmere’s company, Dorothea’s composure was more apparent than real. She was having increasing difficulty maintaining the cool unconcern she felt was her only defence against those all-seeing hazel eyes. His presence physically disturbed her to the point where her mind no longer functioned with its customary clarity. Amid others, at balls and parties, where convention laid its restraining hand on his actions, she could retain sufficient command of her wits to deflect his subtle attacks. But when they were alone, with nothing to prevent him from leading her thoughts along avenues she knew to be as dangerous as they were exciting, she no longer felt confident of keeping him from guessing how deeply he affected her. In fact, she was no longer sure that she was hiding anything from him at all. She had no idea what he had made of her behaviour in the Duchess of Richmond’s orangery. On the other hand, his imperious manners had abated not one whit. And he had yet to speak, even obliquely, of love.

As they rode side by side deep within the Park, far out of sight of the rest of their party, she was conscious of steadily increasing confusion. It was fraying her temper, particularly when the reprehensible creature beside her seemed not to know the meaning of uncertainty. His attitude was always one of complete assurance. She had a peculiar feeling of being inexorably caught up in something she did not comprehend, some trap baited with an irresistible lure, impossible to escape. And he was at the centre of it, drawing her ever closer.

Hazelmere took the opportunity to tell her he would again be away until some time in the next week. His brief trip to Hazelmere had revealed more examples of his neglect than his conscience would countenance. Having done all he could to impress upon the ton how definite his intentions towards her were, and what her response to his proposal was likely to be, he was determined to rectify the problems on his estates without delay. Other than the lady riding beside him, there was little to keep him in London; the débutante balls were not generally high on his list of enjoyable functions.

While she accepted the news of his projected absence prosaically enough, Dorothea was surprised by his final comments. ‘In my absence, if you should need help in any way, you can trust Ferdie or Tony, or Alvanley, Peterborough or any of the others of our set, for that matter. We always help each other and they would unhesitatingly stand in my stead were there any need.’

She turned her wide-eyed gaze upon him, but was unable to see anything in his manner, other than a rueful twinkle in his eyes, to give her a clue as to what exactly he meant.

The twinkle was occasioned by the realisation that he had told her rather more than he had intended. He was slipping again. If she paused to consider she might wonder why his powerful friends should extend their protection to Miss Darent. That they would definitely do so to the future Marchioness of Hazelmere was a thought that might occur. He was sure she had no idea how publicly accepted their relationship had become and suspected that the realisation would be greeted, at least initially, with dismay, if not anger. It formed no part of his plans to force her hand thus early in the Season.

He then spent the best part of a pleasurable hour trying just how far into the realms of the improper he could lead her. He found it was rather further than his own rapidly diminishing control made safe. So, with a skill born of extensive practice, he adroitly disengaged, leaving her confused but with no idea of where they had been headed.