She caught that up easily, murmuring with complete self-assurance, ‘I should have thought the reason for that was obvious, Lord Hazelmere.’

As their glances once more caught and held, Hazelmere saw complete enjoyment of the moment reflected in her eyes. That was the second time he had walked himself into a trap with her. He must be slipping. Nevertheless, there was hay to be made yet. Trying for a sterner tone, he said, ‘I’ll have you know, my dear Miss Darent, that I’m not in the habit of conducting improper conversations with well-behaved young ladies.’

Not seeing where this was headed, she could do no more than show a politely surprised face. ‘Oh?’

As the last strains of the waltz drifted across the ballroom, he whirled her to a halt. Smiling down into those glorious green eyes, he replied, ‘Only with you.’

Eyes blazing in mock indignation, she could not keep a straight face. With a gurgle of laughter she allowed him to draw her hand through his arm and lead her back to Lady Merion’s side. ‘As I said, Lord Hazelmere, you are most improper.’

He promptly corrected her, raising her hand to his lips, his eyes fully on hers, ‘We are both most improper, Miss Darent.’

Later he escorted her to supper, extricating her from the figurative clutches of Lord Peterborough. As he was well practised in the art of detaching young women from the attentions of his close acquaintances, these otherwise difficult tasks were accomplished with a minimum of fuss. They shared a supper table with Cecily and Lord Fanshawe and Julia Bressington, who had the punctilious Lord Harcourt in tow. The conversation was general and decidedly hilarious. Fanshawe, with Cecily interpolating the occasional observation, described the singular scene they had just witnessed between old Lady Melchett and Lord Walsingham, when that irascible old dame had taken his lordship to task for not dancing with her niece.

Realising that, with her limited experience of the ton, Dorothea could not be appreciating the half of the story, Hazelmere spent a pleasant five minutes filling in her knowledge, his head close to hers so as not to disturb the rest of the table.

For Dorothea and Cecily, the Bedlington rout was to provide a blueprint for the behaviour of the Marquis and Lord Fanshawe. Present at almost every major gathering they attended, their lordships were always among the first to write their names in the dance cards, usually for a waltz, and more often than not squired them to supper.

While considerable attention was initially focused on them, as the days lengthened to weeks the ton became accustomed to the sight of Miss Darent in Lord Hazelmere’s arms and Cecily Darent in Lord Fanshawe’s. Their lordships put up with a considerable degree of ribbing regarding their habit of being in everything together. This they bore with equanimity, surprising their associates and convincing those gentlemen that the affairs were indeed serious. By the first week of April, three weeks into the Season and the week preceding the girls’ coming-out ball, the knowledgeable among the ton spoke of an un derstanding between the Darent girls and Lords Hazelmere and Fanshawe. Once this point was reached, their lordships knew that a far greater degree of licence would be permitted them in their dealings with their chosen ladies.

During those first weeks both were careful not to overstep the line at any point. Hazelmere realised that Dorothea, for all her vaunted independence, turned to his arms as to a safe harbour, knowing that there she was protected from the likes of Lords Peterborough and Walsingham. Recognising the sterling service that these gentlemen were, however unwittingly, rendering him, he did not attempt to dissuade them from trying to cut him out. He found it ironic that in avoiding what she considered their dangerous attentions she should choose to seek shelter with him, where, had she but known it, she was in far greater danger.

He watched her carefully over the weeks of balls and parties and saw no sign of partiality for any other gentleman’s company. He knew she enjoyed being with him; her eyes told him so every time he thought to gaze into them, which was often. What he did not know was whether she was in love with him. There was an elusive quality about her that for all his wide experience he had never before encountered.

Still, there was plenty of time. The rush of the coming-out balls would occur in the next few weeks. Afterwards the activities of the ton normally settled to a more comfortable pace, and such matters as marriage could be concluded in a more restful atmosphere.

As the Season progressed, Dorothea found herself in a curious quandary. Lord Hazelmere was the most fascinating man she had met. He was always attentive in a subtly understated manner that she appreciated far more than the suffocating endeavours of her younger admirers. He was, quite frankly, the only man she had ever, in the remotest recesses of her mind in the darkest hours of the night, considered marrying.

It had not needed Lady Merion’s none too subtle hints to make her realise that the Marquis had singled her out, his continuing attentions making it clear that he was seriously courting her. But he had done nothing to further his interests beyond the tentative stage. She had a sneaking suspicion that, because she had not appeared to succumb to his quite considerable charm, he was laying siege to her susceptibilities, holding her tantalisingly at a distance until she acknowledged his attraction. She was a challenge and, as such, had to be conquered. Then his arrogant pride and imperious manner would, she felt, be quite insupportable.

There were even rumours of a bet being placed on the outcome of their contest of wills. Unwise in the ways of betting, she had no idea if this could be so, but she rather felt it rang true of the scandalous Marquis.

However, the questions that increasingly occupied her mind were concerned with his reasons for choosing her. They were starting to disturb her sleep. He had to marry some time, that much was obvious. But why her? Was he in love with her or was she merely convenient? How did he see her? A challenge to be overcome, a suitable connection, the granddaughter of one of his mother’s closest friends, a woman of common sense, not so beautiful as to require constant vigilance? Or did he see something more? By all the tenets of her class, it should not matter one jot. But to her it mattered a great deal. She was in the enviable position of not having to wed unless she wished it. But, if their relationship continued to develop along its present course, refusing him if and when he offered might prove difficult. But when it came to ascertaining Hazelmere’s motives she faced a problem-how could she tell? He was a man of considerable experience and ready charm. If he merely wanted a conformable wife, one who would interfere little with his established pursuits, then it would be, she reasoned, entirely in character for his arrogant lordship to choose, as the easiest route, to make a country miss fall in love with him and so more readily accept his suit.

Her inability to divine his motives was frustrating. Still, as things stood, there was little she could do. The reins were at present very much in his hands. With little scope for manoeuvre, the best she could do was enjoy his company and leave all difficult questions until they demanded an answer.

Chapter Six

The Saturday before the Darent sisters’ coming-out ball saw them riding in the Park, a daily treat organised by the enterprising Ferdie. He was now firmly established as their chief mentor and guide through the shoals of the Season, and had reached the position of being regarded by Dorothea, Cecily and even Lady Merion as part of their household.