package was equally enticing. Nevertheless, if he was to further their acquaintance he would have to go carefully.
Removing the loaded basket from her hands, he retrieved his hunting rifle from the opposite side of the clearing. Correctly interpreting the question clearly written on her uncertain face, he said, ‘I’m now going to escort you home, Miss Darent.’ Inwardly grinning at the mutinous expression that greeted this calm pronouncement, he continued before she could speak. ‘No! Don’t argue. In the social circle to which I belong, no young lady would ever be found out of doors alone.’
The pious tone made Dorothea’s eyes blaze. Lord Hazelmere’s tactics were proving extremely difficult to combat. As she could find no ready answer nor see any way of altering his resolve, she reluctantly fell into step beside him as he started down the path.
‘Incidentally,’ he continued conversationally, pursuing a subject guaranteed to keep her on the defensive, ‘satisfy my curiosity. Just why are you wandering alone in the woods, without the presence of even a nitwit maid?’
She had suspected this question might come, precisely because she had no good answer. The reprehensible creature was undoubtedly teasing her! Swallowing her irritation, she calmly replied, ‘I’m well known in this neighbourhood, and at my age can hardly be considered a young miss in need of constant chaperoning.’ Even to her ears it sounded lame.
The reprehensible creature chuckled. ‘My dear child, you’re not that old! And quite clearly you do need the protection of an attendant.’
As he had just proved the truth of that, she could hardly argue the point. But, her temper flying and caution disappearing with it, her unruly tongue marched ahead unheeding. ‘In future, Lord Hazelmere, whenever I’m tempted to walk your woods I’ll most certainly take an attendant!’
‘Very wise,’ he murmured, voice low.
Unattuned to the nuance of his tone, she did not stop to think before pointing out, in her most reasonable voice, ‘But I really can’t see the necessity. You said you would not mistake me for a village girl next time.’
‘Which merely means,’ he said in tones provocative enough to send a tingling shiver down her spine, ‘that next time I’ll know whose lips I’m kissing.’
‘Oh!’ She gasped and stopped to look up at him, outrage in every line.
Halting beside her, Hazelmere laughed and gently touched her cheek with one long finger, further increasing her ire. ‘I repeat, Miss Darent—you need an attendant. Don’t risk walking in my woods or anywhere else without one. In case the country beaux haven’t told you, you’re by far too lovely to wander alone, despite your advancing years.’
The amused hazel eyes held hers throughout this speech. Dorothea, seeing something behind the laughter which made her feel distinctly odd, could find nothing to say in reply. Irritated, furious and light-headed all at once, she turned abruptly and continued along the path, skirts swishing angrily.
Glancing at the troubled face beside him, Hazelmere’s smile deepened. He sought for a suitably innocuous topic from the tangle of information poured into his ears by his great-aunt before her death. ‘I understand you have recently lost your mother, Miss Darent. I believe my great-aunt told me you were staying with relatives in the north.’
This promising sally fell wide. Dorothea turned her wide green eyes on him and, ignoring the dictum that ladies should not answer a gentleman’s question with another question, asked breathlessly, ‘Did you see her, then, before she died?’
The marked degree of disbelief, for some reason, stung him. ‘Believe it or not, Miss Darent, I frequently visited my great-aunt, of whom I was very fond. However, as I rarely stayed longer than a day, it’s hardly surprising that neither you, nor in all probability the rest of the county, were aware of that fact. I was with her for the three days prior to her death and, as I was her heir, she endeavoured to instruct me in the families of the area.’
This speech, not unnaturally, brought the colour to her cheeks, but instead of turning away in confusion, as he expected, she met his eyes unflinchingly. ‘You see, we were such good friends that I was most unhappy not to have seen her again.’
The hazel eyes held hers for a pregnant second. Then he relented. ‘The end was quite painless. She died in her sleep and, considering the pain she’d been in over the past years, that can only be viewed as a relief.’
She nodded, eyes downcast.
In an attempt to lighten the mood he tried again. ‘Do you and your sister plan to remain at the Grange indefinitely?’
This time he had more success. Her face cleared. ‘Oh, no! We’re to go to our grandmother, Lady Merion, early next year.’
Hermione, Lady Merion, previously the Dowager Lady Darent, had swept through the chilly corridors of Darent Hall like a summer breeze, warm from the glamour of London. And had taken undisputed charge. The sisters, together with Aunt Agnes, the elderly spinster who acted as their nominal chaperon, had been dispatched home to the Grange, buried deep in Hampshire, there to wait out their year of mourning. They were to present themselves to her ladyship in Cavendish Square in February, six months from now. And what was to happen from that point on was, they all had been given to understand, very definitely in her ladyship’s competent hands. Reminiscing, Dorothea grinned. ‘She intends to present us.’ Noticing the sudden lift of the dark brows, she continued defensively, ‘Cecily is considered very beautiful and, I believe, should make a good match.’
‘And yourself?’
Suddenly inexplicably sensitive on this point, she believed she detected a derisive note in the smooth voice. She answered more categorically than she intended. ‘I am hardly ware for the marriage mart. I intend to enjoy my days in London seeing all the sights, and, if truth be known, watching those about me.’
She glanced up and was surprised by the intensity of the hazel gaze fixed unswervingly on her face. Then he smiled in such an enigmatic way that she was unsure whether it was intended for her or was purely introspective. A thought occurred. ‘Do you know Lady Merion?’
The smile deepened. ‘I should think all fashionable London knows Lady Merion. However, in my case, she’s a particularly close friend of my mother’s.’
‘Please, tell me what she’s like?’ It was his turn to be surprised. Seeing it, she rushed on, ‘You see, I’ve not met her since I was a child, except for the one night she spent at Darent Hall earlier this year, when she came to tell us we were to come to London.’
Hazelmere, reflecting that this conversation was undoubtedly the strangest he had ever conducted with a personable young lady, helped her over the stile and into the lane, then fell to considering Lady Merion. ‘Well, your grandmother has always been a leader of fashion, and is well connected with all the old tabbies who matter in London. She’s thick as thieves with Lady Jersey and Princess Esterhazy. Both are patronesses of Almack’s, to which you must gain entry if you wish to belong to the ton. In your case, that hurdle will not be a problem. Lady Merion is independently wealthy and lives in a mansion on Cavendish Square, left her by her second husband, George, Lord Merion. She married him some years after your grandfather’s death and he died about five years ago, I think. She’s something of a tartar, and a high stickler, so I would advise you not to attempt to wander London unattended! On the other hand, she has an excellent sense of humour and is known as being kind and generous to her friends. She’s in some ways eccentric and rarely leaves London except to visit friends in the country. All in all, I
