A frown marred Edward Buchanan’s contentment. ‘You shouldn’t say such things of your future brother-in-law, m’dear.’
It took Cecily all of a minute to work it out. ‘But Dorothea won’t marry you.’
‘I assure you she will,’ returned Edward Buchanan with calm certainty. He pulled a chair up to the table and sat, a wary eye on the salt cellar. ‘And why not? Hazelmere won’t have her now, not after she cut him in the Park. And none of her other beaux seems all that keen to come up to scratch. And after she comes down here to spend the night with me—well, just think of the scandal if she doesn’t marry me after all.’
‘Good lord! You really must be mad! I don’t know what happened between Dorothea and Hazelmere in the Park, but I do know he’s only gone out of town to his estates. He’s expected back any day now. If he finds you’ve been trying to…to pressure Dorothea into marrying you, well…’ Words failed Cecily as she tried to imagine what Hazelmere really would do in such a situation.
But Edward Buchanan was not impressed. ‘By the time his lordship finds out, it’ll be too late. Your sister will be promised to me and Hazelmere will never stand for the scandal.’
‘What scandal? If he killed you it would be simple to hush it up. Tony told me there’s little Hazelmere couldn’t do if he wished it.’
A niggling doubt awoke in Edward Buchanan’s stolid brain. Memories of the tales of Hazelmere’s prowess at Gentleman Jackson’s boxing salon reverberated in his head. And Desborough’s warning flitted through his consciousness. He shook such unhelpful thoughts aside. ‘Nonsense!’
But Edward Buchanan was to find, as Tony Fanshawe already had, that Cecily’s mind was of a peculiarly tenacious disposition. She continued to dwell longingly on the possible outcome once Hazelmere learned of his plans. No amount of persuasion could shake her faith that he would find out, and that sooner rather than later. As her description of the likely punishments in store for him passed from the general to the specific Edward Buchanan found himself totally unable to divert her attention. She was trying to recall what drawing and quartering entailed when she was interrupted by a knock on the door.
With enormous relief he rose. ‘That, I believe, will be your sister, m’dear.’
Dorothea had spent the journey to Tadworth more in consideration of the possibilities of her next morning’s encounter with Hazelmere than in worry over her imminent encounter with Edward Buchanan. She had no real fear of the bucolic Mr Buchanan and did not pause to question her ability to deal with him. She planned to march into the Castle Inn and, quite simply, walk out again with Cecily. If Edward Buchanan was so Gothic as to believe he could bend her to his will by such melodramatic tactics he would shortly learn his error. Her only worry was that her grandmother would bow to Ferdie’s exhortations and inform Hazelmere. Hopefully, Lady Merion would hold firm. That way she could get Cecily and herself safely back to London and meet his lordship in the morning, having lost no further ground, bar the lack of a few hours’ sleep.
Lang found the inn without difficulty. Entering, Dorothea saw at a glance that this was a respectable house. Reassured, she left Betsy and Lang seated in the taproom and knocked on the parlour door. When it opened she swept through, head held high, without so much as a glance at the man holding the door. She advanced towards her sister, stretching out her hands in greeting. ‘There you are, my love.’
The sisters exchanged kisses and Dorothea pulled off her gloves. ‘Did you have a pleasant trip down?’ she enquired.
Moving back to his chair after shutting the door, Edward Buchanan began to feel that all was not proceeding as it should.
Cecily took her cue from Dorothea. Ignoring their captor, they happily conversed in the most mundane manner, as if nothing at all untoward had occurred. Dorothea moved to the fire to warm her chilled hands.
Suddenly Edward Buchanan could stand it no longer. ‘Miss Darent!’
Dorothea turned to look at him, disdain in every line. ‘Mr Buchanan. I had hoped, sir, that you would by now have come to your senses and that I would not be forced into conversation with you.’
The repressive tones stung. But Edward Buchanan had not come thus far to be easily turned aside. ‘My dear Miss Darent, I realise the events of the evening have come as a shock to you. But you must consider, m’dear. You’re here. I’m here. You need to be married. I’m only too willing to oblige. If you think about it, I’m sure you’ll see that Edward Buchanan’s not such a bad bargain.’
Eyes blazing, Dorothea replied scornfully, ‘You, sir, are unquestionably the most distasteful character it has been my misfortune to meet. I dare say you think you’ve been clever. Personally I doubt it! I cannot for the life of me understand your obsession with marrying me. However, other than as a source of irritation, it concerns me not in the least. By your presence you reveal yourself as anything but the gentleman you purport to be, and neither my sister nor I have the slightest wish to converse with you further!’
Edward Buchanan purpled alarmingly as the comprehensive condemnation poured over him. Rising abruptly, he knocked over his chair. ‘Ah, but I think you’ll change your mind, m’dear. You wouldn’t want it broadcast that I was alone with your lovely young sister for some hours tonight.’
Both Dorothea and Cecily whirled to face him, contempt written clearly on their faces. But before either could speak Edward Buchanan went on, ‘Oh, yes. I think you’ll change your mind. You’ve scuttled your chances with Hazelmere. Wouldn’t do for your sister to let Fanshawe off the hook, too.’
Cecily was fairly hopping with rage. ‘Thea, don’t you listen to him! Oooh, just wait till Tony and Hazelmere hear of this!’
Dorothea laid a restraining hand on Cecily’s arm as that spirited damsel was about to launch forth into further vituperative outpourings. Drawing herself to her full height, she spoke clearly, a distinctly martial light in her green eyes. ‘Mr Buchanan. There will be no scandal. My sister and I will shortly be leaving this charming inn and returning to town in our carriage, accompanied by our maid.’
Edward Buchanan jeered, ‘And what’s to stop me passing on the tale of what happened here tonight?’
Dorothea’s eyes opened wide. ‘Why, Hazelmere, of course.’ She would have given anything not to have needed recourse to his lordship, but, as far as she could see, he was the best deterrent she had. Cecily’s happiness was at stake now and she would do anything necessary to preserve her younger sister.
Her calm reference to the Marquis temporarily rattled Edward Buchanan. Then he recovered. ‘Nice try, m’dear. But it won’t do. Aside from the fact that all the ton knows you quarrelled with his arrogant lordship, I happen to know he’s out of town. By the time he returns, the damage will be done.’
The gaze Dorothea bent on the hapless Mr Buchanan would have frozen greater men. ‘My dear sir, if your information on the Marquis’s movements is so reliable I presume you also know that he returned to London today. As for our relationship, I have no intention of edifying you with an explanation. Suffice to say that Lord Hazelmere has requested an interview with me tomorrow morning.’ She paused to let her words sink in. Then she turned to Cecily. ‘Come, my love. We should start back. I wouldn’t like to be late for my meeting with Hazelmere.’
But Edward Buchanan was not yet defeated. ‘Easy to say, m’dear. But even if he is in town, who’s to say he’ll hear about it? No, I’m afraid I really can’t let you leave.’
His stubborn belligerence ignited Dorothea’s temper. ‘Oh, you silly man! I hope Hazelmere doesn’t hear about it. The only reason I came down here is so that there’s no reason for him to be involved. And if only you’d see sense you’d be assisting us to leave with all speed!’
‘Hah! So he doesn’t know!’
‘He didn’t know when I left, but I wouldn’t wager a groat that he doesn’t know by now.’
‘There’s still time to get married,’ mused Mr Buchanan. ‘I’ve a special licence and there’s a clergyman of sorts in the village.’
Cecily’s mouth dropped open. ‘You’re quite mad,’ she informed Mr Buchanan.
‘Mr Buchanan!’ said Dorothea in tones of long suffering. ‘Please listen to me! I will not marry you. Not now, not tonight, not ever.’
‘Yes, you will!’
Dorothea opened her mouth to deny this charge but it remained open, her words evaporating, as a calm voice drawled from the doorway, ‘I’m shattered to disappoint you, Buchanan, but in this instance Miss Darent is quite correct.’
All eyes turned to see the Marquis of Hazelmere, standing in the doorway, shoulders negligently propped against the frame.
Chapter Fourteen
Dorothea would have given everything she possessed to know how long Hazelmere had been standing there. Across the room her eyes locked with his. Then, smiling faintly, he straightened and crossed to stand before her, taking her hand and kissing it, as was his habit. Dorothea struggled to master her surprise as the usual light-headedness swept over her. Under the warm hazel gaze she blushed. Hazelmere retained his clasp on her hand as he turned to view Edward Buchanan.
Fanshawe had been standing immediately behind Hazelmere and had entered the room in his wake, pointedly shutting the door after him. Cecily, with a suppressed squeal, had run to his side.
The arrival of their lordships left Edward Buchanan, at least temporarily, with nothing to say and nowhere to go. He was barely able to believe the evidence of his eyes, and all trace of intelligence had left his face, leaving it more bovine in appearance than ever. With the rug effectively pulled from under him, he stared in mute trepidation at Hazelmere, who stood, calmly regarding him, a considering light in the strange hazel eyes.
‘Before we continue this singularly senseless conversation I should point out to you, Buchanan, that, on her marriage, Miss Darent’s estate remains in her hands.’
Cool and precise, Hazelmere’s words affected Edward Buchanan as if a bucket of iced water had been dashed in his face. For a matter of seconds sheer astonishment held him silent. Then, ‘Why, that’s…that’s… I’ve been grossly deceived!’ he blustered. ‘Lord Darent has misled me! And Sir Hugo!’
Cecily, Fanshawe and Dorothea received these interesting revelations in fascinated silence. Hazelmere said, ‘Precisely. That being so, I think you’ll need a holiday to recover from your…exertions, shall we say? A long holiday, I should think. On your estates in Dorset, perhaps? I have no wish to see your face again, in London or anywhere else. If I do, or if it comes to my ears you are again indulging in the practice of abduction or in any way inconveniencing anyone, I’ll send your letters to the authorities with a full description of what took place. As all the notes are in your handwriting, and one is very conveniently signed, I’m sure they’ll take a great interest in you.’
The steely words effectively reduced Edward Buchanan’s grand plan to very small pieces. With his great chance fast disappearing downstream, he glanced wildly, first at Fanshawe and Cecily, and then at Hazelmere, Dorothea at his side, her hand still firmly held in his. ‘But the scandal…’ His voice trailed away as he encountered Hazelmere’s eyes.
‘I’m afraid, Buchanan, you seem to be labouring under a misapprehension.’ The tones were icy enough to chill the blood in Edward Buchanan’s veins. He suddenly recalled some of the other stories about Hazelmere. ‘The Misses Darent are on their way to visit Fanshawe’s and my families on our estates, escorted by their maid and coachman. Fanshawe and I were delayed in leaving town and so arranged to meet them here.’ There was a slight pause during which the hazel eyes calmly surveyed Mr Buchanan. ‘Are you suggesting there is anything in that which is at all…improper?’
Edward Buchanan paled. Thoroughly unnerved, he hastened to reassure the Marquis, the words fairly tripping from his tongue. ‘No, no! Of course not! Never meant to imply any such thing.’ One finger had gone to his neckcloth as if it was suddenly too tight. Retreat, disorderly or otherwise, seemed imperative. ‘It’s getting late. I must be away. Your servant, Misses Darent, my lords.’ With the sketchiest of bows he made for the door, slowing as he realised that Fanshawe still stood with his back to it. At a nod from Hazelmere, Fanshawe opened the door, allowing an agitated Edward Buchanan to escape.
Instantly the sounds of a hurried departure reached their ears. Then the main door of the inn slammed shut and all was quiet.
Inside the parlour the frozen tableau dissolved. Cecily openly threw herself into Fanshawe’s arms. Dorothea saw it and wished she could be similarly uninhibited. As things were, she felt barely capable of preserving her composure.
‘Oh, God! What a nincompoop!’ said Fanshawe. ‘Why’d you let him escape so easily?’
‘He’s not worth the effort,’ replied Hazelmere absentmindedly, his eyes searching Dorothea’s face. ‘Besides, as he said, he’d been misled.’
Dorothea, trying to look unconscious of his meaning and failing dismally, tried to steer the conversation into lighter fields. ‘Misled! I’ve been trying for weeks to get rid of him. If only I’d known!’ It suddenly dawned on her to wonder how Hazelmere had known. She felt strangely giddy.
Hazelmere saw her abstracted gaze. Noticing the assorted objects on the table, he seized on the distraction. ‘Have you been using the abominable Mr Buchanan for target practice?’
Dorothea, following his gaze, was diverted. ‘No. That was Cecily. But she only threw a vase of flowers at him.’
Looking to where she pointed, he saw the shards of the shattered vase. ‘Does she often throw things?’ he asked faintly.
‘Only when she’s angry.’
While he considered her answer Hazelmere picked up Dorothea’s cloak and draped it over her shoulders. ‘More to the point, does she hit anything?’
‘Oh, usually,’ Dorothea replied, strangely engrossed with the ties of the cloak. ‘She’s been doing it since she was a child, so her aim is really quite good.’
Glancing at Fanshawe, absorbed with Cecily, Hazelmere could not repress a grin of unholy amusement. ‘Do remind me, my love, to mention that to Tony some time. I should warn him of what he’s about to take on.’
Dorothea smiled nervously. Hazelmere reached around her to retrieve her gloves and handed them to her. Correctly interpreting his nod, she put them on. She looked up, to find his hazel eyes warmly smiling.
‘I think we should leave this inn forthwith. Aside from getting you and Cecily safely away, it’s by far too crowded for my liking.’
She smiled back, ignoring the little thrill of anticipation the words and tone drew forth, perfectly content to do whatever he wished, just as long as he continued to smile at her in that deliciously peculiar way. As usual, he had assumed command. But she could hardly argue with the efficient way he had got rid of Edward Buchanan. In the circumstances, she felt she could safely leave discussion of his managing ways until they had returned to London. There was still that interview to be endured, after which they would doubtless discuss what possibilities the future held. She reminded herself she still had no unequivocal proof of the nature of his feelings for her.
Hazelmere escorted Dorothea into the taproom, closely the followed by Fanshawe with Cecily. Seeing her chicks being ushered safely out, Betsy heaved a sigh of relief and came forward with Lang to hear their instructions.
Hazelmere consulted his watch. It was already close to four. In the curricle he could reach Hazelmere in just over an hour. The carriage would take closer to two. Dawn would be before six. He turned to Fanshawe with a grin. ‘I’ll leave you with the coach and Betsy, of course.’
Dorothea, who had moved with Cecily to reassure the clucking Betsy, looked up. Hazelmere smiled blandly back at her.
‘Yes, I thought you would,’ replied Fanshawe, disgusted at the thought of two hours’ frustrating travel with his love and her maid. ‘We’ll make directly for Eglemont. Cecily can see Hazelmere Water some other time. Preferably not at dawn, what’s more! To think I’m going to be saddled with this and I won’t even reap the rewards!’ He tried t
o scowl at his friend but could not resist the rueful laughter in the hazel eyes.
‘Never mind,’ replied Hazelmere, aware that Dorothea had missed little of their exchange. ‘I rather think I’ve got more to explain than you.’ He moved to Dorothea’s side and outlined the dispositions for the next phase of their journey. He accomplished this without explanation, and was about to lead Dorothea outside when she regained the use of her tongue.
‘But there’s no need for this at all! Couldn’t we simply go back to London?’ A long drive alone with Hazelmere had not figured in her plans.
Hazelmere stopped and sighed. ‘No.’
Dorothea waited for him to explain, but when instead he took her arm she stood her ground. ‘I realise it would not be wise for all of us to return together, but there’s no reason Cecily and I cannot go back in the carriage with Betsy, and you two can go down to your estates, then return to London later.’
Hazelmere caught the grin on Fanshawe’s face. It could hardly be missed; it was enormous. Noting the stubborn set of Dorothea’s chin and the flash of determination in her green eyes, he silenced her in the only effective way he knew. Under the bemused gazes of the innkeeper, Betsy, Lang, an intrigued and approving Cecily and a still grinning Fanshawe, he pulled her against him and kissed her. He did not stop until he judged her incapable of finding further words to argue with.
When Dorothea’s wits finally returned she was on the box-seat of Hazelmere’s curricle, the Marquis by her side, smartly heading his greys out of the inn yard, setting them on the road leading south. She glanced up at his profile, clearly visible in the bright moonlight. Her determination to force a clear declaration from him grew. Aside from anything else, if what had just occurred was any indication of how he planned to settle disagreements between them in future, unless there was some balance in their relationship, she would never win any arguments at all. Her mind made up, she reviewed her options.
Tangled Reins Page 24
