Tangled Reins (Regencies 1)

‘As a matter of fact, no,’ he replied with a grin. ‘I think that indescribable wife of his has convinced him I’m no better than a rake and shouldn’t be allowed to marry into the family.’

Lady Hazelmere was speechless.

After a moment Hazelmere said, ‘I take it you approve?’

His mother dragged her mind from contemplation of Lady Darent’s manifold shortcomings. ‘Of course! She’s very suitable. In fact,’ she said, warming to her theme, ‘she’s eminently suitable, as among her numerous qualities she can include the unique accomplishment of having attracted your interest!’

‘Exactly so,’ he returned, amused. ‘And, as I’ve been at great pains to make our attachment abundantly clear to the ton, I really don’t think the announcement will surprise.’

‘When I think of that waltz at the Merion House ball!’ Anthea Henry closed her eyes, continuing faintly, ‘So very shocking of you, my dear!’

Hazelmere, not deceived, replied, ‘Coming it much too strong, Mama!’

She opened eyes brimming with laughter. ‘But it was! You had all the tabbies with their fur standing on end!’

Both mother and son allowed the conversation to lapse while they relived fond memories. Her ladyship finally stirred. ‘When will you speak to her?’

‘As soon as I can arrange to see her. Wednesday probably. If she’s agreeable we’ll come here for a few days. It would be useful, I imagine, for her to see the house.’

Lady Hazelmere sighed. Hermione’s weekly letter had been perfectly candid. Clearly, despite minor misunderstandings, her arrogant son had, as usual, triumphed, and all would proceed as he decreed. Even the headstrong Dorothea had apparently been tamed. If things continued in this fashion Marc would soon grow to be utterly impossible. She had had such hopes of Dorothea. Still, at least she would now have a daughter-in-law. Even if nothing else, they could swap stories of her impossible son. And, knowing her son, she could look forward, with as much confidence as possible in such matters, to a grandchild within the year. The thought cheered her. So, resigned, all she said was, ‘Yes, that would be wise. We’ll have to arrange to refurbish the apartments next to yours.’

Chapter Thirteen

Hazelmere returned to London, driving a new pair of black horses, leaving the bays in the country to recuperate. The curricle flashed into the mews behind Hazelmere House late in the afternoon. Discussing the performance of the new pair with Jim, he strolled out of the stables as Ferdie rode into the mews, leading two horses.

Thoroughly worn out with his role as chief confidant and protector, Ferdie was delighted to see his cousin. Dismounting and handing over the reins to Jim, he reflected that the source of the horses the Darent sisters rode was one of the better kept secrets in this whole affair. He could imagine what Dorothea would say when she learned that her bay mare had all along belonged to Hazelmere. He hoped they would be married by then and she could discuss the subject with Hazelmere rather than him. He turned to his cousin. ‘Relieved to see you back!’

‘Oh?’ The black brows rose interrogatively.

‘Not that anything’s happened,’ he hastily assured him. ‘But Dorothea knows something’s going on and it’s getting more and more difficult to know what to say.’

‘Poor Ferdie! It sounds as if it’s all been too much fo

r you.’

‘Well, it has!’ returned Ferdie, incensed. ‘Here she’s gone and turned all your friends into her most devoted slaves—oh, yes! Didn’t expect that, did you?’ He had the satisfaction of seeing the hazel eyes widen. Nodding decisively, he continued, ‘Rather think it’s been her holding the reins in your absence, not us!’

Hazelmere, eyes dancing, sighed. ‘I see I was mistaken in thinking it safe to leave you all in charge of Miss Darent. I might have guessed it would turn out the other way. Why on earth you have allowed her to assume the whip hand, I know not. Obviously I’ll have to intervene and save you all.’

‘All very well for you. It’s you she loves, not us! Never seen a lady so capable of making us all jump to her tune. Better take her in hand straight away!’

Hazelmere laughed at this blatant encouragement. ‘Believe me, Ferdie, I intend to—with all possible speed. But not tonight, I think. It’s Alvanley’s dinner for me. I can’t remember if there’s anything else on.’

‘No, nothing of note. I’m to escort Dorothea and Cecily to a quiet little party at Lady Rothwell’s. Just the younger crew, so I’m looking forward to an uneventful evening. Mind, though! Tomorrow she’s all yours!’

‘Oh, quite definitely!’ As they strolled back into Cavendish Square Hazelmere added, ‘In fact, you can assist in your own relief by informing Dorothea that I’ll call on her tomorrow morning.’

Regarding his cousin with misgiving, Ferdie answered, ‘Well, I’ll tell her. But she’ll probably insist on going riding or think up some important engagement on the spot.’

‘In that case,’ Hazelmere said, his voice silky smooth, his lips curving in anticipation, ‘you had better add, in your most persuasive tones, that she would do very much better to meet me next in private rather than public.’

Ferdie, doubting that he could deliver that statement with quite the force Hazelmere could, nodded reluctantly. ‘Yes, all right, I suppose that’ll do it.’

‘You can take it from me that it will,’ responded Hazelmere gravely. Laughing at Ferdie’s outraged countenance, he clapped his cousin on the shoulder and went into his own house, leaving Ferdie to wander on to his lodgings.

Some two hours later Fanshawe was attempting to tie his neckcloth in the latest fashion when the knocker on his door was plied with unusual insistence. With an oath he discarded his latest attempt and testily recommended his man, standing mute with an armload of fresh specimens, to see who on earth it was.

A minute later, just as he was once again engrossed, the door opened.