Once again her face gave her away before she guiltily caught herself up. One glance at those amused hazel eyes told her that he had not missed her thoughts, and he promptly confirmed this by remarking, ‘No, Miss Darent. We are not that much alike.’
She was pleased that she blushed only slightly.
Hazelmere, seeking to press his advantage, asked, ‘Are you never thrown into maidenly confusion, Miss Darent? Or is it that, at twenty-two, you no longer feel the need to adopt such missish airs?’
This uncannily accurate reading of her behaviour was, most unfortunately, lost on Dorothea. Instead he came under the concentrated scrutiny of her clear green eyes as she promptly asked, ‘How do you know my age?’
Mentally castigating himself for not being more careful, he was about to mendaciously attribute this information to his great-aunt. However, under the influence of that steady green gaze, he heard himself reply, ‘Mr Matthews told me.’
‘The rector?’ Her disbelief was patent.
Highly amused, he could not resist continuing, ‘He loves to talk, you know. And he knows so much of what is happening in his parish. I’ve formed the habit of inviting him to dinner whenever I’m at Moreton Park.’
Dorothea, knowing full well the rector’s failing, immediately saw the implication of these remarks. Her suspicions were immediately confirmed.
‘I know all about your visits to Newbury, and Aunt Agnes’s rheumatism and the trouble Mrs Warburton had with the parish fair. Incidentally, that reminds me: your Aunt Agnes sends you her love.’
The wild incredulity in her face as she imagined his meeting her vague, shy and man-hating maiden aunt sorely tempted him to leave the subject as was. He finally relented sufficiently to add, ‘Via the rector, you goose!’
Realising that he had accurately read her mind yet again, she found herself returning his smile. She was still smiling as they finished the dance with a flourish not far from her grandmother. Hazelmere drew her hand through his arm and led her back to Lady Merion’s side.
Her ladyship had been staggered enough to see Dorothea in Hazelmere’s arms, but the sight of Cecily chattering amiably to Lord Fanshawe as she circled the room had made her doubt her senses. It was unheard of for two débutante sisters to stand up with two of the most eligible peers for their first waltz. More importantly, this outcome could only have been achieved by skilful manipulation of the patronesses by the two gentlemen involved. She was not sure she approved of such rapid and direct attack.
However, she was not immune to the glory of the undoubted triumph. Sally Jersey had stopped on her peregrinations about the rooms and, nodding towards Hazelmere and Dorothea, had whispered in her ear, ‘He’ll have her, you know. Never known Hazelmere to stand up for a first waltz before!’
Lady Merion, watching the elegant couple as they drifted past, Dorothea laughing up at Hazelmere, both blithely unaware of the surrounding company, rather fancied that Sally, for once, was right.
Two glowing young ladies were very correctly returned to her side, from where they were claimed by their partners for the next dance. As both Hazelmere and Fanshawe had been acquainted with Lady Merion from birth, neither attempted to disappear without paying their respects. With the sweetly smiling Maria, Lady Sefton sitting at her ladyship’s side, the conversation remained on a general plane until Lady Sefton claimed Fanshawe’s arm to go in search of her daughter-in-law.
Lady Merion promptly seized the opportunity to remark to Hazelmere, ‘Well, you certainly don’t let the grass grow under your feet!’
He smiled in the thoroughly maddening way he had, then said, ‘I take it you’re not perturbed by my interest?’
‘Don’t be absurd! You know perfectly well you’re one of the biggest prizes on the marriage mart!’ His question unsettled her. This was fast going, indeed! ‘But you must by now know that my granddaughter is highly unlikely to ask my opinion on the matter.’
‘True. Nevertheless, I would be bound to consider your opinion, even if she did not.’
‘Very pretty talking, indeed!’ she responded, not entirely displeased.
Seeing Fanshawe returning, she dismissed them both, adding with a laugh as they both bowed elegantly before her, ‘I’m sure you can think of more exciting ways to spend your evening.’
Towards the end of the ball Mr Edward Buchanan appeared at Dorothea’s side. She forced a smile to her lips as he bowed over her hand.
‘My dear Miss Darent! A delightful pleasure! I’m afraid, my dear, that I’m not a dancing man. Perhaps you would care to walk about the rooms with me?’
Ferdie, standing beside her, goggled.
With the most heartfelt relief, Dorothea, cool regret in her tone, said, ‘I’m afraid, Mr Buchanan, that I’m engaged for all the dances this evening.’
‘Oh?’ He was genuinely surprised.
Luckily young Lord Davidson approached at that moment to claim her for the cotillion just forming. With the barest nod to Mr Buchanan, she laid her hand on Lord Davidson’s arm and moved away.
Ferdie stared at the strange Mr Buchanan. Feeling the scrutiny, Edward Buchanan blushed slightly. ‘Friend of a friend, you know. In the country. Dare say Miss Darent could use some hints on how to go on in London. Not up to snuff and too many of these young blades about, y’know. But now I’m here I’ll keep an eye on her, never fear.’
‘Oh?’ said the elegant Ferdie Acheson-Smythe in his chilliest voice. With the barest inclination of his fair head he walked away.
Chapter Five