With her attention elsewhere, she missed the deepening curve of the severe lips which had so recently claimed hers. And precisely what is Miss Dorothea Darent doing, trespassing in my woods?
The proprietorial tone brought her head up again, as he had known it would. Oh! You have inherited the Park from Lady Moreton!
He nodded, reluctantly releasing her and almost imperceptibly moving aside. The hazel eyes did not leave her face.
Relieved of the distracting intimacy, she paused to gather her wits. In a manner as imperious as she could muster she replied, Lady Moreton always gave her permission for us to gather whatever we wished from her woods. However, now that you own the Park-
You will, of course, Hazelmere interposed smoothly, continue to gather whatever you wish, whenever you wish. He smiled. I will even undertake not to mistake you for the blacksmiths daughter next time.
Dorothea swept him a contemptuous curtsy, green eyes flashing. Thank you, Lord Hazelmere! Ill be sure to warn Hetty.
The comment stumped him, as she had intended. She turned to pick up her basket. Still mentally adrift from the after-effects of that kiss, she hastily concluded that in this instance retreat was the better part of valour. She had reckoned without Lord Hazelmere. And who, exactly, is Hetty?
Arrested in the act of ignominious flight, she gathered together the shreds of her composure to reply acidly, Why, the blacksmiths daughter, of course!
Under her fascinated gaze the striking, almost harsh-featured face relaxed, the satirical amusement replaced by genuine delight. Laughing openly, he put out a hand to grasp the basket, preventing her from leaving. I think were quits, Miss Darent, so dont run away. Your basket is only half full and there are plenty of berries left on this bush. The hazel eyes were quizzing her, his smile disarming. Sensing her hesitation, he continued, Yes, I know you cant reach them, but I can. If youll just stand there, and hold your basket so, well soon have it full.
It dawned on Dorothea that her qualifications to deal with the gentleman before her were inadequate. Unwise in the ways of the world, she had no idea what she should do. On the one hand, the rectors wife would expect her to withdraw immediately; on the other, curiosity urged her to remain. And, even if she did make up her mind to go, it was doubtful whether this masterful creature would allow her to leave. Besides, as he had positioned her here with the basket in her hands and was even now filling it with the choicest berries from the top of the bush, it would hardly be polite to walk away. Thus reasoning, she remained where she was, taking the opportunity to more closely inspect her tormentor.
Her initial impression of quiet elegance owed much, she decided, to the excellent cut of his shooting jacket. Honesty then forced her to acknowledge that broad shoulders set atop a lean and muscular frame significantly contributed to the overall effect of masculine power only superficially cloaked. His black hair was cut short in the prevailing mode and curled gently over his brow. The hazel eyes, so appropriate, she thought, in the Marquis of Hazelmere, were disconcertingly direct. The decidedly patrician nose and firm mouth and chin declared that here was a man used to dominating his world. But she had seen both eyes and mouth soften with humour, making him appear much more approachable. In fact, she decided, his smile would be utterly devastating to young ladies more impressionable than herself. Then, too, there was that subtly attractive aura, which fell into the category of subjects no well-bred lady ever discussed. Remembering his reputation, she could find no trace of dissipation. His actions, however, left little doubt of the existence of the fire that had given rise to the smoke.
Correctly guessing most of the jumble of thoughts going through her head, Hazelmere surreptitiously watched her face from the corner of his eyes. What a jewel she was! The classically moulded face framed by luxuriant dark hair was arresting in itself. But those eyes! Like enormous twin emeralds, clear and bright, they mirrored her thoughts in a thoroughly beguiling way. Her lips he had already sampled-soft and yielding, deliciously sensual-and he could readily imagine developing a fascination for them. The rest of the 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, Im 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! Dont argue. In the social circle to which I belong, no young lady would ever be found out of doors alone.
The pious tone made Dorotheas eyes blaze. Lord Hazelmeres 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, Im 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, youre 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 Im tempted to walk your woods Ill 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 cant 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 Ill know whose lips Im 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. Dont risk walking in my woods or anywhere else without one. In case the country beaux havent told you, youre 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, Hazelmeres 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 gentlemans 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, its 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 shed 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! Were 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 ladyships 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?