outcome could only have been achieved by skilful manipulation of the patronesses by the two gentlemen involved. She was not sure she approved of such rapid and direct attack.
However, she was not immune to the glory of the undoubted triumph. Sally Jersey had stopped on her peregrinations about the rooms and, nodding towards Hazelmere and Dorothea, had whispered in her ear, ‘He’ll have her, you know. Never known Hazelmere to stand up for a first waltz before!’
Lady Merion, watching the elegant couple as they drifted past, Dorothea laughing up at Hazelmere, both blithely unaware of the surrounding company, rather fancied that Sally, for once, was right.
Two glowing young ladies were very correctly returned to her side, from where they were claimed by their partners for the next dance. As both Hazelmere and Fanshawe had been acquainted with Lady Merion from birth, neither attempted to disappear without paying their respects. With the sweetly smiling Maria, Lady Sefton sitting at her ladyship’s side, the conversation remained on a general plane until Lady Sefton claimed Fanshawe’s arm to go in search of her daughter-in-law.
Lady Merion promptly seized the opportunity to remark to Hazelmere, ‘Well, you certainly don’t let the grass grow under your feet!’
He smiled in the thoroughly maddening way he had, then said, ‘I take it you’re not perturbed by my interest?’
‘Don’t be absurd! You know perfectly well you’re one of the biggest prizes on the marriage mart!’ His question unsettled her. This was fast going, indeed! ‘But you must by now know that my granddaughter is highly unlikely to ask my opinion on the matter.’
‘True. Nevertheless,
‘Very pretty talking, indeed!’ she responded, not entirely displeased.
Seeing Fanshawe returning, she dismissed them both, adding with a laugh as they both bowed elegantly before her, ‘I’m sure you can think of more exciting ways to spend your evening.’
Towards the end of the ball Mr Edward Buchanan appeared at Dorothea’s side. She forced a smile to her lips as he bowed over her hand.
‘My dear Miss Darent! A delightful pleasure! I’m afraid, my dear, that I’m not a dancing man. Perhaps you would care to walk about the rooms with me?’
Ferdie, standing beside her, goggled.
With the most heartfelt relief, Dorothea, cool regret in her tone, said, ‘I’m afraid, Mr Buchanan, that I’m engaged for all the dances this evening.’
‘Oh?’ He was genuinely surprised.
Luckily young Lord Davidson approached at that moment to claim her for the cotillion just forming. With the barest nod to Mr Buchanan, she laid her hand on Lord Davidson’s arm and moved away.
Ferdie stared at the strange Mr Buchanan. Feeling the scrutiny, Edward Buchanan blushed slightly. ‘Friend of a friend, you know. In the country. Dare say Miss Darent could use some hints on how to go on in London. Not up to snuff and too many of these young blades about, y’know. But now I’m here I’ll keep an eye on her, never fear.’
‘Oh?’ said the elegant Ferdie Acheson-Smythe in his chilliest voice. With the barest inclination of his fair head he walked away.
Chapter Five
After his waltz with Dorothea, Hazelmere, mindful of the eyes upon him, danced with three other young ladies newly presented to the ton. Of these, two were diamonds of the first water, but both lacked the fire and wit to attract him as the lovely Dorothea did. Feeling the familiar boredom rising, and being debarred by convention from waltzing with Miss Darent again, he looked for Fanshawe. Hearing the music for the second and last waltz of the night start up, he scanned the dancers and easily picked out Miss Darent in the arms of Lord Robert Markham. It was definitely time to leave. Spying his friend in a group by the door, he made his way to him, and together they left for White’s.
The small hours of the morning saw them wending their way home through the deserted city streets. They had played Pharoah and Hazelmere had held the bank. Consequently he had risen from the table a cool five hundred guineas richer. However, his thoughts were not concerned with his customary luck with the cards, but with his potential luck with a certain green-eyed young lady. Fanshawe was similarly occupied in wondering which of her numerous qualities was most responsible for making Cecily Darent so attractive. Together they crossed Piccadilly and headed up Bond Street in companionable silence.
Hazelmere finally broke this to say, ‘Well, Miss Darent appears to have successfully quashed all the rumours.’
Fanshawe glanced sideways under his lashes at his friend. ‘Do you intend to have her?’
Hazelmere checked slightly in his stride. The hazel and brown eyes met for an instant. Then he chuckled. ‘Is it that obvious?’
‘Frankly, yes.’
‘I suppose, as it’s virtually obligatory to play by the rules, given it’s the start of the Season, my interest will hardly remain a secret for long.’
‘No. You’re right. We’ll have to play by the rules.’
‘We?’ His friend’s preoccupation since meeting Cecily Darent had not escaped Hazelmere. ‘At the inn I mentioned Miss Darent’s sister more in jest than design.’
‘I know that! But she’s a deuced taking young thing, all the same. Not in the class of your Dorothea, but attractive none the less.’
‘Oh, granted! In the absence of Dorothea, Cecily would bear off the palm. But satisfy my curiosity. Does she, like her sister, engage in-er-a conversational style bordering on the improper?’
‘Lord, yes! Asked me straight out how I’d jockeyed Countess Lieven into giving her permission to waltz, and then floored me by asking why!’
Entertained by this evidence that a predilection for such conversation was a Darent trait, Hazelmere asked, ‘And what did you answer?’
‘Told her ‘twas on account of her beautiful eyes, of course!’
‘At which she laughed?’
‘Exactly. Lovely sound.’ After a pause Fanshawe continued, ‘You know, Marc, I can’t understand why all these mamas turn their daughters into such simpering misses you can’t exchange two sensible words with. Bores us all to tears and they wonder why. Well-look at the Tremlett girl! Dashed good-looking chit. But as soon as she opens her mouth I’m off! And just look at our set. Besides the two of us, there’s Peterborough and Markham, Alvanley, Harcourt, Bassington, Aylsham, Walsingham, Desborough-oh, and a host of others! And they’re just our set, let alone the younger ones. All of us are either titled or well connected, independently wealthy, and all of us have got to marry sooner or later. Yet here we all are, over thirty and still unattached, purely because there are so few chits with more wit than hair.’
‘Which is exactly why,’ concluded Hazelmere, grasping his erratic friend by the elbow to steer him around the railings of Hanover Square, ‘we’re going to assiduously attend all the ton crushes this Season.’
‘Good God!’ uttered his lordship, much struck by this logic. ‘You mean they’ll all be after the Darent girls?’
‘You’ve just said it yourself. We’re all on the lookout for suitable brides and we’re all eligible. The Darent sisters are outstanding candidates on any man’s terms. You and I, dear boy, have merely stolen a march on the rest. And I’ll be much surprised if they don’t try and make up lost ground very quickly. I rather think Markham has already made a start.’
‘Yes, saw that too. And Walsingham was there as well.’
‘I predict by tomorrow night the whole crew will have gathered. Which, if you’re serious about the younger Miss Darent, is going to keep both of us on our toes.’
They had come to the corner of Cavendish Square and paused. ‘What’s on tomorrow night?’ asked Fanshawe sleepily.
