Tangled Reins

mocking tone. ‘My dear, will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?’

Despite the fact that she had expected the question, for one long moment she thought the world had stopped turning. Then, her eyes still locked on his hand, gently clasping hers, she struggled to find words to extricate herself from the predicament the question had landed her in. How typical of him! If she simply said yes, she would never learn the truth.

‘My lord, I am sensible…very sensible of the honour you do me. However, I… I am not convinced there is…any real…reason or…or basis for marriage between us.’ In the circumstances, Dorothea felt quite pleased with the outcome. Nicely vague.

Although not surprised, Hazelmere still felt as if he had been winded. How on earth had she come to that wonderful conclusion? Clearly he was going to have to explain a few things to his beloved. Assuming it was his motives she question, he went direct to that issue. ‘Why do you imagine I want to marry you?’

Hearing the sincerity in his voice, she felt forced to reply truthfully. Now was no time for missish sentiment. ‘You have to marry. I gather you want a conformable wife, to give you heirs and manage your households.’ She paused, then added, ‘Someone who would not interfere with your present lifestyle.’

For once, he missed the oblique allusion. ‘There’s nothing in my present lifestyle that marriage to you would disrupt.’ For some reason, far from reassuring her, the statement seemed to have the opposite effect.

Dorothea gulped. For one instant she almost convinced herself that she didn’t want to know. Then she shook her head. ‘In that case, I really don’t think we…would suit.’

Hazelmere was entirely at sea. He had no idea what she was talking about, but he heard the catch in her voice. Foreseeing an unprofitable and probably distressing time ahead if they continued in this roundabout fashion, he decided to gamble all on one throw. Cutting tangled reins was the fastest way, after all. Provided you could hold the horses afterwards. Possessing himself of both her hands, he drew her around to face him. ‘If you’re adamant that is true, then of course I’ll not press you. But, if you wish to convince me what you say is so, you’ll have to look at me, my love, and tell me you don’t love me.’

Her heart had sunk like lead at his first sentence. The second threw her into total disarray. How could she do that? In the long silence that ensued she could feel his eyes on her, still warm. If she looked up she would lose.

‘Dorothea?’

Mute, all she could do was shake her head.

‘Why? My dear, you’ll have to give me some explanation.’ His voice, unbearably gentle and stripped of its usual lightness, brought her close to tears. She tried to look up and failed. Wrenching her hands free, she stood and took a few agitated steps, stopping beside the trunk of the oak. Her scheming was turning this into a nightmare. Heavens! What on earth had she started?

Hazelmere watched her. Clearly she was struggling with some imagined demon, but he could hardly deal with it unless she told him what it was. Calmly he stood and strolled to stand behind her. Taking her by the shoulders, he firmly turned her to face him. One hand at her waist held her lightly while the other gently tilted her face up. She stubbornly kept her lovely and far too revealing eyes lowered. ‘Dorothea, why won’t you marry me?’

Impossible not to answer. In the end, in a voice so small that she could hardly recognise it as her own, she said, ‘Because you don’t love me.’

For nearly a minute Hazelmere, dazed, remained perfectly still. Then enlightenment dawned, and with it came relief. Dorothea, equally immobile, suddenly felt his hands shake. Startled, she looked up and saw, to her disbelieving fury, that he was laughing! Really laughing! Outraged, she flung away. Or tried to, but he had seen her intention in those beautiful eyes and held on to her, pulling her roughly into his arms and holding her, hard, against him. Rage seared through her, leaving her strangely wan. Then his voice, muffled as he spoke against her hair and still shaking with suppressed laughter, reached her. ‘Oh, sweetheart! What a gem you are! Here I went to the most extraordinary lengths to convince the entire ton, or at least all those who mattered, that I was irrevocably in love with you and the only person who didn’t notice was you!’

Already stiff and unyielding, she went rigid. She looked up. ‘You don’t love me!’

The dark brows rose. The hazel eyes, still laughing, gently quizzed her. ‘Don’t I?’

She tore her eyes from that mesmeric glance. If she was ever to learn the answers she had to pose the questions. ‘What about that bet?’ she asked, trying to sound scornful and not succeeding in the least.

He propped his shoulders against the oak, still holding her against him. ‘Young men with too much money and not enough sense. There are always bets on such things. It’s nothing new. There are bets on Fanshawe and Cecily, and Julia Bressington and Harcourt, and a few other couples, too.’

Her eyes had returned to his during this explanation. ‘Really?’

He nodded, smiling. She dropped her eyes to his shoulder while she considered that. Hazelmere studied her face. When she remained silent he continued, ‘Furthermore, my love, I feel constrained to point out that, had I been seeking a suitable and complaisant wife, I would hardly choose a lady whom I have had to twice rescue from scandalous situations in public inns.’

‘But it wasn’t my fault in either case!’ protested Dorothea indignantly. She had glanced up into the teasing hazel eyes but quickly broke the connection. In a small voice she added, ‘I thought perhaps you felt being married to me would be more…comfortable than being married to Miss Buntton.’

‘Miss Buntton?’ said Hazelmere incredulously. He shuddered. ‘My dear, being married to a hedgehog would be more comfortable than being married to Miss Buntton.’ Dorothea smothered a giggle. ‘Whoever put that idea…oh, Susan, I suppose?’

Dorothea nodded. Then another thought occurred. ‘You’re not marrying me because of the…possible scandal over tonight?’

‘After I’ve gone to such lengths to ensure there’ll be no scandal? Of course not.’ As she persisted in keeping her eyes down, he added a clincher. ‘Besides, if that were so, how is it that I’ve already got Herbert’s permission to address you?’

That brought her head up. ‘You have asked his permission!’

‘My dear Dorothea, you really should strive to rid yourself of these ramshackle notions you cherish of me. I wouldn’t ask you to marry me if I didn’t have Herbert’s permission to pay my addresses to you.’

The pious tone pricked her temper. ‘What about your mistresses?’ she asked.

The hazel eyes caught hers. ‘What about them?’

She was at a loss. ‘How should I know?’ she said in exasperation.

‘Precisely!’ The dry tone left her in no doubt of what he meant. Their eyes held, then he sighed. ‘If you must know, I dismissed my last mistress when I returned to London last September, after meeting you. I’ve had enough mistresses for a lifetime. I want a wife.’

Her gaze had drifted to his cravat and her hands, trapped between them, were apparently occupied in smoothing its folds. Hazelmere sighed. ‘My dear, delightful, idiotic Dorothea, do look at me. I am trying, apparently unsuccessfully, to convince you that I love you. The least you can do is pay attention!’

Dorothea had exhausted her questions. Obediently she looked up. When her eyes once more locked with his Hazelmere nodded approvingly. ‘Good! For your information, my love, I’ve been in love with you from, I think, the moment I first saw you picking blackberries in Moreton Park woods. What’s more, my reputation notwithstanding, I am not in the habit of seducing village maids or debutantes.’

The green eyes widened. Slightly breathless, she said, ‘I thought that was part of the bet.’

Goaded, Hazelmere replied, ‘The only reason I’ve been seducing you, albeit in stages, is because I can’t seem to keep my hands off you!’ At her surprise, he continued, ‘Oh, yes! If you think I have power over you, you have just as much power over me.’

The thoroughly feminine smile that spread across her lovely features prompted him to tighten his arms around her. ‘Now that I’ve got your full attention, my love, what can I do to convince you I love you?’

Assuming his question to be purely rhetorical, Dorothea lifted her face for his kiss. His lips gently brushed hers in a series of teasingly gentle kisses that satisfied her not at all. She wriggled her hands free and drew his head more firmly to her. She felt rather than heard his satisfied chuckle, then his lips settled over hers in a long engagement that, despite his intentions, drifted deeper with each passing minute. At some point he pushed her cloak back, allowing him access to her body, still clad in the thin silk evening gown of the night before. Too soon