‘Helen unfortunately made a most unsuitable marriage. Arthur Walford was a rake and a gamester. He killed himself, much to the relief of everyone. No one knows the full story, but Hazelmere was involved. Helen once asked him how her husband died. He told her she didn’t need to know but should content herself with the fact.’
‘That certainly sounds very like him,’ said Dorothea, sniffing. Clearly Hazelmere’s habit of managing things was a long-standing and deeply ingrained characteristic.
‘Anyway, Hazelmere has always treated Helen exactly as he does Alison. I assume he was astonished that you thought she was his mistress?’
Recalling his face at the time, Dorothea nodded. ‘But why did the Comte de Vanee tell me she was?’
‘My dear, I’m afraid you’ll have to get used to the malicious tongues of certain people you meet. There are more than a few who’d like to cause trouble for Hazelmere and will seek to use you to do it.’ Her ladyship paused, eyeing her granddaughter’s elegant profile. ‘Incidentally, I would not, if I were you, ever bring up the subject of Hazelmere’s mistresses. I grant you, he has had a few. Well,’ she amended, realising the inadequacy of this description, ‘more than a few. A positive parade, in fact, and all of them the most gorgeous of creatures! But, my dear, Hazelmere’s mistresses are very definitely
Dorothea inclined her head in acknowledgement of this excellent advice.
Lady Merion, watching her, saw tiredness creep over the pale face. She leaned forward and patted Dorothea’s hand reassuringly. ‘My dear, you’re worn out. I’ll have a tray sent up, and you really should have an early night. We’ll have to consider how best to go on but I think we should leave further discussion until tomorrow.’
Dorothea, feeling strangely wrung out and curiously elated at the same time, nodded her acquiescence and kissed her grandmother’s cheek before Lady Merion, suddenly feeling her age, left the room.
When Trimmer brought her dinner tray to her, Dorothea, contrary to her expectations, was feeling quite hungry. Nibbling the delicate chicken, she pondered her state. None of what had happened should have been a shock. But the fact remained that things had changed. Somehow, hand in hand with the Marquis of Hazelmere, she had stepped from the safe shores of fashionable dalliance into a realm where forces stronger than any she had ever known seemed set to steal her very soul. Thinking of how she had felt in his arms that afternoon, she shivered. He would never let her forget how much she wanted him. He had certainly won that bet. Some part of her rational mind suggested, faintly, that she should be incensed over his subtle machinations which would so easily have overridden any objections from her. But the truth was… The truth was that she had no objections. None at all.
Absent-mindedly she picked up the bowl of Witchett’s special tisane. Sipping it, she relaxed in her chair, the warmth of the fire welcome as night fell. Thinking back, she could not recall a single incident where he had seriously professed any devotion. That had been one of the factors that had drawn her to him. Beside all the others and their protestations of undying love, his calm authority had been a welcome relief. Instead, if she had been able to think clearly where he was concerned, she would have seen the true meaning behind that peculiar warmth which shone in his hazel eyes, the care he had continually shown her, even, as she had discovered the morning after, to the extent of hiring a bodyguard to watch the stairs during the night at that inn. It was not hard to believe her grandmother’s view. But oh! What she would give to hear it, clear and unambiguous, from his lips.
She stared into the fire as if in the flames she would find his face. She had no firm idea of what was to follow and, as she yawned again, realised she was too tired to accurately assess the possibilities. They would have to wait until morning.
Trimmer entered and unobtrusively removed the tray. She helped Dorothea change, then silently withdrew.
Lying in the depths of the feather mattress, Dorothea heaved a deep sigh and snuggled down in the bed. Under the subtle influence of Witchett’s tisane, she dropped into a deep and dreamless sleep.
Dorothea awoke early the next morning, refreshed but strangely lethargic. She stayed in her room, staring out of her window at the cherry trees in the Park, now in full leaf. At nine o’clock she emerged from her bedchamber and descended to the morning-room. Cecily, she was informed, was spending the morning with the Bensons in Mount Street and had cancelled their morning ride with Ferdie. Relieved of two worries, Dorothea gave silent thanks to be spared the traumas of satisfying her sister’s curiosity. Having drunk a cup of coffee and nibbled a piece of toast, she decided it was still too early to go up to her grandmother. On impulse, she called for Trimmer and went for a walk in the square.
The sun was shining, and a light breeze blew wispy clouds across the sky. Revelling in the fresh air, she walked through to the other side of the park, paused to glance briefly at the silent mansion opposite, then briskly returned to Merion House. By now Lady Merion would have left her bed. Ascending the stairs, she was surprised to see Ferdie on his way down.
Having received his cousin’s note, Ferdie had decided that if Dorothea was not to be told of the danger then it was high time someone informed her ladyship of the threats to her granddaughter. He had also been able to set Lady Merion’s mind at rest regarding the inevitable gossip arising from the incident in the Park. At the party he had attended the previous night he had found this had incurred little attention, and what comment there was had described it as just a lovers’ quarrel.
As luck would have it, Lady Jersey had witnessed the encounter. She had immediately afterwards attended a select tea party at Mrs Drummond-Burrell’s and, of course, had bubbled over with the news of Miss Darent’s odd behaviour and the Marquis’s likely response.
While there had been more than a few disapproving comments, the tone had been set by Mrs Drummond- Burrell herself. A friend of Hazelmere’s, she had been impressed by Dorothea and heartily approved the Marquis’s choice. In response to a disparaging remark that Miss Darent had properly cooked her goose, as Hazelmere would never stand for such behaviour, that most steely of Almack’s patronesses had coolly observed, ‘Dear Sarah, I really don’t think you fully appreciate Miss Darent. How often have any of us seen Hazelmere so much as thrown off balance?’ The ensuing silence had assured her that she had captured the attention of the room. ‘I cannot help thinking,’ she had continued, ‘that any young lady who can shake that gentleman’s calm deserves our congratulations. If she can make the Marquis realise that he cannot control absolutely everything, I for one will applaud her.’ Thus Dorothea’s actions had come to be regarded as a successful attempt to defy his lordship, with the likely result being no more than a tiff.
Pausing to exchange greetings with Dorothea, Ferdie said, ‘I’ll call for you at three.’
‘Oh, Ferdie, I don’t know that I can.’
‘Not a matter of can or can’t, you must,’ answered that knowledgeable gentleman. Realising that she did not understand, he suggested, ‘Go see your grandmama. She’ll explain.’
And with a nod and a wave he descended to the hall and, accepting his hat from Mellow, quit the house. Dorothea surrendered her pelisse to Trimmer and entered her ladyship’s sanctum.
Lady Merion had already had much to think about that morning. The news that Dorothea had been the subject of two abduction attempts had shocked the old lady. But, considering the steps already taken to protect her, she could not think of anything more that could be done. She had rejected Ferdie’s suggestion that Dorothea be warned, informing him that his cousin was already the cause of enough turmoil in Dorothea’s life, without adding this to the account. Hazelmere’s absence was not comforting. On the other hand, it would give Dorothea time to adjust to his idea of her future.
She had been pleasantly surprised and not a little relieved to hear of the lack of speculation over the scene in the Park. She particularly appreciated Ferdie’s offer to ride with Dorothea in the Park that afternoon. ‘Won’t do for her to hide away, you know,’ that young gentleman had sapiently remarked.
When Dorothea entered the room Lady Merion smiled and waved her to the comfortable chaise. ‘You’re looking a great deal better, my dear.’
‘I feel a great deal better, Grandmama,’ replied Dorothea, dutifully kissing her cheek and then gracefully sitting beside her.
Noting her calm and confident manner, Hermione nodded. ‘I think it’s time we had some plain speaking.’ Having made this promising beginning, she paused to marshal her arguments. ‘To begin with, I expect you’ll admit Hazelmere has seriously engaged your affections?’
Smiling at the careful phrasing, Dorothea responded easily, ‘I’ve been in love with Lord Hazelmere for some time.’
‘As I said, he’s already told me he intends offering for you. In his own good time,’ continued her ladyship. ‘But
