mind made up, she reviewed her options.
The road between Tadworth and Dorking was narrow but otherwise in good condition. Which, reflected Hazelmere, was just as well. The hedges on either side cast shadows over the road, and despite the silvery moonlight he could not see far ahead. And his love would not remain silent for long. One glance as they left the inn had convinced him that she was merely gathering her forces. He glanced at her now and found her looking speculatively at him. Her brows rose in mute question.
He smiled back and returned his attention to his horses. He had no intention of initiating a conversation. Let her make the first move.
This was not long in coming. ‘Are you ever going to tell me just what has been going on?’
Thinking ‘No’ by far the safest answer, he regretfully settled for, ‘It’s a long story.’
‘How long before we reach Hazelmere?’
‘About an hour.’
‘Plenty of time to explain, then.
‘But we have to reach Hazelmere Water before dawn.’
‘Why?’
Glancing down at her lovely, confused countenance, he smiled reassuringly. ‘Because that’s the supposed reason for this midnight jaunt, and so at least one of you, having been so insistent on seeing it, had better do so. Just in case someone like Sally Jersey, who has also seen it, asks for a description.’
Raising her eyes to his face, Dorothea asked in weary resignation, ‘Just what
Content to keep the conversation on relatively safe ground, Hazelmere obliged. He started by telling her what happened after she had left Merion House. ‘You’ll have to remember to make your peace with Ferdie.’
‘Was he terribly bothered?’
‘Incensed.’ He sketched the outline of the story, omitting to tell her that they were supposedly betrothed. He spent some minutes impressing on her the magnitude of Fanshawe’s and his sacrifices in saving Cecily’s and her reputations. Hearing her chuckle over Ferdie’s mission to spread the tale far and wide, he hoped he had diverted her mind from what he had not explained.
Recovering from her giggles, Dorothea mentally reviewed what she had heard, her eyes fixed on the offside horse. This midnight drive was possibly the best chance she would ever have of extracting information from Hazelmere. In normal circumstances, his physical presence was so distracting that it was a constant battle of mind against body to formulate sensible questions, let alone combat his evasive answers. But, since he was now perched on the box-seat beside her, his hands occupied with the reins and his attention divided between his horses and herself, the odds were more even. She would certainly have to encourage him to take her driving more often in future. Silent, they passed through Dorking and into the country lanes leading to Hazelmere. Bringing her gaze back to his face, she said in the most non-committal of tones, ‘What were the other notes Mr Buchanan had sent?’
He recalled a comment of Ferdie’s that she had a habit of asking questions so it was impossible to sidle out of them. Resigned to the inevitable, he answered, ‘He made two previous attempts to abduct you. That was something I didn’t foresee when I decided to convince the ton of my interest in you.’
The moonlight had completely faded and sunrise was not far off. They had crossed the Hazelmere boundary, and the look-out over the ornamental lake known as Hazelmere Water was not far ahead.
After a considerable pause while she tried to analyse his actions in all this Dorothea said, ‘I take it the first was the Bressington masquerade?’
‘Yes. There’s nothing you don’t know about that, except I knew it wasn’t a joke. That was why I was suddenly so ridiculously attentive, even attending that boring party that Sunday. I don’t know what I would have done if I hadn’t been able to learn your engagements. Did you know one of my footmen is walking out with your maid?’
Dorothea regarded him with a fascinated expression. He grinned and continued, ‘The second attempt was at the picnic you attended with Ferdie. He forgot to give you a note delivered while you were there. It was unaddressed, so he opened it when his man found it the next day. It was supposedly signed by me, but Ferdie knows my signature and so he brought it to me. Tony was with me at the time, so after that both of them knew.’
‘When did the rest of your friends find out?’
Impossible to deny it. ‘On Wednesday, at a luncheon. I had to leave town, and Tony and Ferdie couldn’t hope to keep you in sight all the time.’
‘Did it never occur to you to tell me?’ she asked.
‘Yes. But I couldn’t see what good it would do.’ Seeing her frown, he sighed. ‘Who could know if and when the next attempt might be made?’
The silence on his left was complete. After a minute he risked a glance and found she was regarding him quizzically. ‘You’re quite abominably high-handed, you know.’
He smiled sweetly and replied, ‘Yes, I know. But only with the best of intentions.’
The curricle topped a gentle rise and just beyond the crest Hazelmere turned the horses on to the grass verge, cropped to form a look-out. ‘And that,’ he announced, ‘is Hazelmere Water.’
With the sun breaking over the distant horizon, the scene spread beneath her feet was breathtakingly beautiful. He jumped down from the curricle and tied the reins firmly to a bush. He lifted her down and together they descended a flight of shallow steps cut into the escarpment. These led to a small plateau beneath the crest where a stone bench stood by an old oak. An uninterrupted view of the valley below unfurled at their feet. Hazelmere Water was a large ornamental lake edged by clumps of willows. There was an island in the middle with more willows, and a summerhouse, painted white, showing through the lacy foliage. Swans cruised slowly on the gentle currents of the stream that fed the lake from one end and exited at the other.
As the sun climbed higher the colours of the scene changed constantly from the first cool sepia tones through the warm pink tints of early sunrise and the golden glow of increasing light, until finally, as the sun cleared the hills behind the lake and shone forth unhindered, the bright greens of the grass and willows and the deep blue of the lake showed clear and intense.
Seated on the bench, Dorothea watched in speechless delight. Hazelmere, beside her, had viewed the sight on many occasions. He still found pleasure in it, but today had eyes only for the woman beside him. Returning to London with the firm intention of settling their past and future in one fell swoop, he had found that, instead of waiting patient and secure for him to declare himself, his independent love had gone haring off in the middle of the night to do battle with Edward Buchanan. It really should not have surprised him. While he had little doubt she would have handled the matter after a fashion, her disposition to manage matters her own way had given him an irresistible opportunity to bring their frustrating courtship to its inevitable climax. But now, despite her apparent calm, she was defensive. To be trying to keep him at a distance after all that had passed between them seemed rather odd, even for his independent love. He watched her; delight in the scene before her glowed on her expressive face. Inwardly he sighed. He was going to have to find out what it was that was worrying her. The reins of this affair of theirs had continually tangled; he couldn’t remember when he’d had so much difficulty with a woman. And now he had a sneaking suspicion that, while he had thought he had got the reins untangled and running free, they had somehow got snagged again.
With the sun riding the sky, Dorothea turned towards him, her eyes glowing. ‘That was the most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen! I’m afraid Lord Fanshawe will have to bring Cecily here at dawn after all.’
Hazelmere had lost interest in Fanshawe and Cecily. ‘Just as long as it’s you who tells him so. Having consigned him to two hours in that carriage with Cecily and your Betsy, I fear I’m not at present riding high in his esteem.’
Dorothea, suddenly breathless, looked down and found that he had hold of her hand. She felt him move to draw her to him. Knowing that if he kissed her she would lose any chance of retaining sufficient control to force any admission, positive or negative, from him, she resisted. He immediately stopped. For a moment silence, still and deep, engulfed them. Dorothea, her eyes downcast, did not see the long lips curl into a wry smile. Hazelmere could think of only one way to precipitate matters, so he took it. ‘Dorothea?’ His voice was entirely devoid of its usual
