permission to address Dorothea.
At mention of Mr Buchanan, Hazelmere’s look became uncomfortably intent. ‘Do you mean to tell me you gave Buchanan permission to address your ward without checking his background?’ The precise diction made Herbert even more nervous.
‘I gather he owns an estate in Dorset,’ he flustered. ‘And, of course, he knows Sir Hugo Clere.’
‘And learned from Sir Hugo that Miss Darent had inherited the Grange, no doubt. For your information, Edward Buchanan owns a tumbledown farmhouse in Dorset. He’s penniless. The reason he’s in London is that, after his most recent attempt to run away with a local heiress, Dorset is too hot for him. I’m surprised, my lord, that you take such little care over your duties as guardian.’
Herbert, brick-red with embarrassment, remained silent.
‘I assume that, as you are acquainted with my family and my standing in society and as my wealth needs no detailing, you have no objection to giving
The scathing tones made Herbert wince. ‘Naturally, should you wish to address Dorothea, of course you have my permission,’ he said, squirming, then unwisely added, ‘But what if she’s already accepted Buchanan?’
‘My dear sir, your ward is a great deal more discerning than you are.’ Now that he had obtained Herbert’s approval, the only other information Hazelmere required was the name of the family solicitors who would handle the marriage settlements.
Herbert was strangely diffident on this question. ‘I believe Dorothea uses Whitney and Sons, in Chancery Lane.’
It took the Marquis a moment to assimilate this. Then he asked, eyes narrowed, ‘So Miss Darent’s solicitors are her own, not yours?’
‘My aunt’s crazy idea,’ said Herbert defensively. ‘She had the oddest notions. She decided it was best that both girls controlled their own fortunes.’
‘So,’ pursued Hazelmere, drawing on his gloves, ‘when the Misses Darent marry, control of their fortunes remains in their hands?’
‘Well, yes,’ said Herbert, glancing directly at him. ‘But that wouldn’t worry you, surely? Her estate is nothing compared to yours.’
‘Oh, quite,’ agreed Hazelmere. ‘I was merely wondering whether you gave that information to Buchanan. Did you?’
Herbert looked blank. ‘No. He didn’t ask.’
‘I thought not,’ said Hazelmere, a highly cynical smile curving his lips. Disclaiming any desire to dally with his relations-to-be, he re-entered the hall, to find that he was not destined to escape an encounter with Marjorie Darent. Her ladyship was looking even more severe than usual and directed a look of such magnitude at her husband that Hazelmere almost felt sorry for him.
‘Lord Hazelmere-’ she began.
But Hazelmere was determined that the conversational reins would remain in his hands. ‘Lady Marjorie,’ he countered. ‘I’m sure you’ll forgive my not staying. I’ve concluded the business I had with your husband and it’s most urgent I return to Hazelmere at once. My mother, you realise.’
‘Lady Hazelmere is ill?’ asked Marjorie, struggling to keep abreast of this flow of information.
Hazelmere, unwilling to expose his mother to letters of condolence on her relapse, simply looked grave. ‘I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to discuss the matter. I’m sure you understand.’
He bowed elegantly over her hand, nodded to Herbert and escaped.
He reached Hazelmere on Monday afternoon. His mother was resting, so, seeing the glint in his steward’s eye, he gave his attention to the host of minor matters Liddiard had waiting for him. He delayed his appearance in the drawing-room until just before dinner. If they were free of servants his mother would lose no time in asking him why he was home, and he would rather face the inquisition after dinner than before.
As it transpired, he entered the drawing-room immediately in front of Penton, his butler. Lady Hazelmere, recognising the strategy, pulled a face at him as he bent to kiss her cheek. He merely gave the smile he knew infuriated her, telling her as it did that he was perfectly aware of what she wanted to say to him but had no wish to hear it-at least, not yet. Her ladyship reflected that her son was growing to resemble his father more and more.
Over dinner he kept up a steady flow of inconsequential anecdotes, detailing the fashionable happenings since she had left London. Lady Hazelmere, knowing he would say nothing to the point in front of the servants, listened with what interest she could muster. Finally, after the covers were removed and the servants withdrew, she drew a deep breath. ‘And
Functioning in a similar way to Lady Merion’s upstairs drawing-room, her ladyship’s parlour was a cheerful apartment on the first floor of the large country house. The curtains were already drawn, shutting out the twilight, and a small fire was burning merrily in the grate. Lady Hazelmere sat in her favourite wing chair by the hearth, while her son, after pulling it further from the flames, elegantly disposed his long limbs in its partner opposite.
He then smiled at his impatient parent. Her ladyship, inured by the years to such tactics, asked bluntly, ‘Why have you come to see me?’
‘As you correctly suppose, to tell you I’m about to offer for Dorothea Darent.’
‘Very punctilious, I must say.’
‘You know that I always am. In such matters as these, at least.’
Aware that this was true, she ignored the comment. ‘When is the wedding to be?’
‘As I haven’t asked her, I cannot say. If I have my way, as soon as possible.’
‘I must say, I’ve wondered at your unusual patience.’
He shrugged. ‘It seemed a good idea at the time. She’d only just arrived in town, and if she’d refused it would have caused considerable awkwardness for a number of people.’
‘Yes, I can appreciate that. But why the change of heart?’
He looked hard at her. ‘Hasn’t Lady Merion written to you this week?’
‘Well, yes,’ she admitted. ‘But I’d much rather hear it from you.’
Hazelmere sighed and succinctly outlined the events preceding his departure from the capital. He also described the two attempts to abduct Dorothea, learning in the process that his mother already knew of these via a recently informed Lady Merion. When he finished, Lady Hazelmere looked at him, perplexed. ‘But if she’s in danger, why are you gallivanting all over the country?’
‘Because the others are looking after her and it seemed more sensible to marry her as soon as possible and remove her from any danger at all,’ he explained patiently. ‘As I had to go to Lauleigh, I looked in on Herbert Darent on the way back.’
She eventually conceded. ‘Yes, I suppose you’re right, as usual. I assume Herbert was only too thrilled?’
‘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
‘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
