Chapter 2

Chapter Two

G ood Lord .

Miss Hazel Dartmont took a deep breath and stepped out onto the terrace of Lady Talbot's home. She wasn't overly fond of house parties, less so after recent events. But at least she had managed to escape Lord Hough. He wouldn't dare follow her here.

Hough had attempted to…well, Hazel wasn't sure what he'd been trying to do, exactly. The middle-aged baron had had some ridiculous idea that if he could ruin Hazel—an absurd assumption since her ruination had occurred years ago—she might be compelled to wed him.

Completely absurd . Hazel had made her opinions on husbands and marriage clear to anyone who would listen. At thirty-four, she was quite pleased to be on the shelf.

Poor Hough. He had tried. As Lady Hough, he'd claimed, Hazel would miraculously ascend in society, leaving her humble origins behind. Everyone would overlook that her family was of no import. Didn't she want the acceptance marriage to him would bring?

Hazel had taken great pleasure in her refusal.

Next, he'd attempted to compromise her. During a picnic, with his rotund form stretched out across a blanket—a somewhat horrifying sight; Hazel had kept waiting for the buttons of his waistcoat to pop off—Hough had begun tossing grapes up in the air to catch in his mouth.

Hazel had yawned in boredom.

Failing to impress Hazel with his non-existent dexterity, the blanket around him littered with grapes that had missed his mouth, Hough's aim had improved enough for him to launch a grape directly into Hazel's bodice. The small orb had settled in the valley between her less than ample breasts.

Hazel hadn't known whether to burst into laughter or applaud his athleticism.

Encouraged, Hough had rolled in her direction and attempted to retrieve the grape with the sausage-like appendages he referred to as fingers.

She had promptly swatted him with her parasol in clear view of the other guests present, lest anyone think she welcomed such advances. A small scandal had ensued, leaving Hough hopeful she would wed him to silence any gossip.

The baron was bitterly disappointed.

Hazel had explained to Hough, quite bluntly, that she had no desire to prop up a fading dynasty with her fortune and fled to Lady Talbot's. She had no need of a suitor, titled or otherwise. If she ever found a man who wanted her person more than her wealth, Hazel might change her mind. But that seemed unlikely.

A twittering laugh reached her ears, drawing her attention to the aristocratic woman garbed in plum satin seated on the other side of the terrace. Lady Leek. One of Hazel's biggest detractors. She considered Hazel beneath her and thus should not be invited to house parties such as these nor sit at the helm of Widows for Fallen Heroes, Hazel's pet charity. Lady Leek had been trying to force Hazel out of the charity for the past year.

Unfortunately for her, Hazel was their largest donor.

Lady Coraline, Lady Leek's stunning daughter, sauntered across the lawn, where a cluster of gentlemen were playing bowls. Poor Coraline. She'd failed in her attempts to land a marquess last Season, no matter her mother's determination. It was all anyone spoke of while sipping tea and looking down their noses at Hazel. But there were plenty of gentlemen on the lawn playing bowls, as well as young ladies. Matches were often made at house parties, especially when Lady Talbot was in charge.

Thankfully no one would be sniffing about Hazel's skirts. She was at least ten years older than the other unwed ladies present. Ancient, by some standards.

Splendid .

"There you are. Finally." Maria, Lady Talbot, her lush, voluptuous form stretched over a chaise, waved Hazel over to her. Rich rose silk skirts had been artfully arranged to display a tasteful bit of ankle. Flowers decorated her hair. "I wondered when you might make it down from your room. I was growing impatient."

"I lingered over my breakfast tray," Hazel answered. "Apologies."

"A terrible breach of protocol at a house party. I managed to make it down to the breakfast room and watched Lady Pierce devour her eggs." She gave a little shake.

Viscountess Pierce was also involved in Widows of Fallen Heroes, along with a handful of other charities, and she was far more pleasant than Lady Leek. Lady Pierce had two daughters, both timid blonde things who had barely spoken during dinner the previous evening.

"Here, take this." She placed a small racquet in Hazel's hand. "You aren't any good at bowls and thus will not wish to play."

Hazel pretended outrage. "Not the case. The length of my stride gives me an advantage." She spun the racquet. "Shuttlecock? Isn't the game more suited to children?"

"Or young ladies at a house party. Leaping about induces matrimonial prospects. I'm hoping the others will see…" She made a wave in the direction of Lady Pierce's girls, who were strolling near the terrace. "And decide to do something other than wander about and sniff at my roses. Which they have done for nearly an entire week. How am I to assist in making matches for them if they do not mingle? Honestly, I don't recall ever being so tedious when I was their age."

Lady Talbot was the furthest thing from tedious. It was said that the elderly Lord Talbot had taken one look at the beautiful young woman hiding in an alcove at a ball sipping forbidden champagne and been instantly smitten. Talbot had offered for her that very night and been accepted, not only by Maria's parents, who'd desired to marry off their troublesome daughter, but also Maria. Despite the difference in their ages, Talbot and Maria had become a love match. She had adored her much older husband, nursing him through the illness that had eventually taken his life.

"I have my work cut out for me, Hazel." Maria raised a brow. "I'm not sure any matches will come from this house party, which will cause the gossips to question my skills. Thus far, Sarah and Anne"—she nodded discreetly at the two girls once more circling the garden—"are not participating as fully as they should. I would wash my hands of the entire affair, but I did promise Lady Pierce I would help."

Maria loved playing matchmaker. She had hosted a house party at the end of the summer for the past several years, determined to help those who had failed to make a match during the Season. Not everyone wanted to return to the marriage mart when the Season started once more.

"I insist you leave me out of your machinations." Hazel swooshed the air with the racquet.

"I promised I would." But Maria's eyes held a calculated gleam.

"I've no need of a husband." Hazel waggled her brows. "For anything at all, as you well know. Marriage provides no clear benefits to me." Given the fortune she had at her disposal, if Hazel wed, she would always question where the affections of any husband truly lay. She did take lovers, however, though not noble ones.

"Ah, yes. How is your barrister?"

"I'm not sure," Hazel admitted. "He hinted at marriage and his political ambitions, which I'm sure he expected me to fund."

Maria shook her head. "I thought you liked him."

"I did like him. I just didn't want to marry him. Now, whom shall I challenge to shuttlecock?" She raised the racquet as if it were a sword and peered out at the lawn. "Please, not Lady Coraline. I might accidently stumble and swat her in the head."

A laugh came from her friend. "Good heavens, no. Lord Everhurst." Maria inclined her head towards the dark-haired viscount, who was standing with a confused look on his handsome face as a servant handed him a racquet and shuttlecock. "Beat him soundly as a favor to me. I plan to console him when he loses. Clasp him to my bosom and such."

"Incorrigible." Hazel grinned. "I'll endeavor to defeat him on your behalf. Is Everhurst here to make a match or only to amuse you?"

"A match, I think. But I fail to see how one precludes the other." Lady Talbot's brows drew together. "That is the entire point of a house party; to make a match or engage in a dalliance. Usually both. No one arrives intending to spend their entire time playing shuttlecock and walking my gardens." She gave the Pierce girls a look. "Possibly Anne and Sarah, but no one else."

"Your logic is sound, my lady." Hazel bowed.

Maria giggled. "Of course it is. Might I add that I was vastly relieved when you arrived yesterday. I worried you might stay in Bath, which would have put me in danger of being short one lady had you done so." Her eyes widened innocently at her pointed reference to Hazel's stature.

"That is terrible, even for you. I'm as aware of my height as everyone else is. It can hardly be avoided."

"Lady Leek referred to you as a giantess over cards the night before your arrival. As if you'd marched out of a fable and would begin stomping on the peasants."

She and Maria looked at each other before bursting into a fit of laughter.

Hazel was tall, but she could hardly be considered a giant. Still, her height had Hazel towering over many gentlemen, a situation which most found unpleasant.

When she'd been a hopeful young lady, Hazel had detested her height, hunching and curving her shoulders, trying anything to appear smaller. She'd spent every dance against a wall, watching with envy as the other girls had been swept out to the floor. On the rare occasion she had been asked to dance, her stature had often put Hazel's bosom directly across from her partner's face. Quite embarrassing.

By the time Hazel had reached the age of twenty-one, she had received not one proposal of marriage or interest from any gentleman at all.

And then Papa and Uncle Roger had become terribly, horribly wealthy.

Suddenly suitors had filled the drawing room of the mansion Papa had built, including a handful of titled men from London who just happened to be ‘passing through Bristol.' Apparently, it was easier to put aside your aversion to an overly tall, freckled girl of low birth if she had a fortune attached to her.

"Is something wrong, Hazel?" Maria leaned forward. "You look as if you just bit into a lemon."

"I merely caught a glimpse of Lady Leek." Hazel pushed aside her depressing past. She was far more confident now. Secure in her own skin. But those rejections still stung. "Why aren't you challenging Everhurst? Shouldn't he lose to you, given the plans you have for him?"

"Oh, I have every intention of challenging my darling viscount. Just not at present." Maria fluttered her fingers. "But I'm expecting two late arrivals to our little gathering."

"The party started a week ago," Hazel pointed out.

"I issued a late invitation, something I don't make a habit of doing, but the duke's cousin insisted he'd love to attend." Maria leaned over and said under her breath, "He's looking for a wife."

"A duke? And there isn't any need to whisper. I'm the only one near you."

Maria straightened and fluffed out her skirts. "Quite a coup for me, if I may say so, especially if he makes a match at my house party. There's bound to be fighting over him." A sly smile crossed her lips.

"Not from me. I've little interest in a duke." Hazel had only been in the vicinity of such a lofty personage once, when she'd been a child in Pensford. Her brows drew together. What was the duke's name? Conder? Conland? You'd think she could recall, after all, the Duke of…Canter? had been the reason Papa had moved the Dartmont family to Bristol.

Well, not only the duke. But his horrid nephew. August.

"You aren't at all impressed." Maria sighed.

"Growing up, there was a duke who was the patron of our small village. He was condescending and vastly superior. Spent most of his time strutting about Pensford when he deigned to visit, looking down on all of us."

The duke of…Coral? Cobalt?

"He took a dislike to my father." All because Hazel had stood up to his rotund little nephew. "That's how we ended up in Bristol with Uncle Roger. Because some aristocrat decided John Dartmont should do business elsewhere."

She hadn't thought of Pensford in some time. Odd she should do so today.

Maria gave her a patient look. "Yes, but it turned out quite well in the end, Hazel. Your father and uncle became wealthy. Wealth you use to do a great deal of good in the world."

All true. But those first years in Bristol had been hard. Mama had died. Papa had worked nonstop.

"There's that look again, Hazel. Your entire face is pinching together."

"I was considering Hough," she answered, not wishing to discuss the past. "He is akin to a tenacious, slobbering Pomeranian clawing at my skirts. I despaired of ever shaking him free."

"I'm told the duns beat at his door daily. He's quite desperate," Maria said. "I do applaud Hough's creativity, though. Tossing a grape into your bosom and then attempting to retrieve it? Bold, I must admit."

"Had I been a young lady of good family, his gambit to force me into marriage may have worked. But thankfully, I am merely an ancient, low-born spinster. Now, about this duke. I imagine he'll request a cushion for his gout-ridden feet," she said. "Perhaps stare at me, aghast, with his quizzing glass."

Maria let out a bloom of laugher. "You are absurd." She paused to wave at Everhurst, who stood tossing the shuttlecock up in the air. " This duke is quite delicious. No gout in sight. Or a quizzing glass. Arrogant—and with good reason." Her eyes sparkled. "Taller than you. Terrible reputation." She tapped a finger on her chin. "Which I don't find a deterrent."

"Wonderful. A lecherous duke."

"Lecherous? Hardly. I can't imagine a woman who would refuse his attentions."

Hazel snorted. Loudly. "You may put me in that category."

Lady Pierce's two daughters had marched over to the edge of the terrace while she and Maria talked. Twin looks of muted horror shone on their pale faces at the unladylike sound coming from Hazel.

Draper's daughter. Right here.

"Ignore them," Maria said. "If you turn your head, they simply fade away. Dissolve into mist. The one on the left resembles a rabbit. The other smells of horse. Personalities virtually non-existent."

Hazel bit her lip. "I beg you stop, Maria. Else I will burst into a fit of giggles and spoil the decorum of your house party. And that is Anne. The horsey one. She is quite an equestrian."

"Wonderful. One of the gentlemen present"—she looked out at the game of bowls—"raises horses. Kent, I think. Definitely not Garland." She nodded at the ginger-haired young man. "He's here for Coraline, but Lady Leek would prefer her daughter aim higher. Perhaps duchess. Now, run along and trounce Everhurst in shuttlecock, or I'll seat you beside one of the Pierce girls at dinner."

"Good lord. I need no further inducement. As you wish, my lady." Hazel saluted her friend before making her way down the stairs, waving about her racket.

Maria had proven to be a stalwart, understanding friend, practically from their first meeting at Widows of Fallen Heroes. Hazel had been newly arrived in London and, using what few connections she possessed, managed to gain invitation to a tea for the charity. Her desire to help had stemmed from not only the fact that she could, but because so many enlisted men did not return to their families. The officers nearly all came from wealth, but not those souls who left behind desperate wives and children. Hazel had already set up a home in Bristol for those families.

Also, she had a soft spot for soldiers, having bedded more than one.

Seated at a table that day, placed as distant from their hostess and the rest of the more self-important matrons of the ton as possible, Hazel had nonetheless paid close attention to the conversation around her, all the while knowing she was not welcome, even if her purse was.

Then Lady Talbot had breezed into the room.

"Don't mind them," Maria had said, taking the seat beside her. "They don't like anyone, especially if you can't trace your lineage to someone of importance. Also, you're quite tall." She observed Hazel. "I'm merely scandalous."

They'd been friends ever since.

Hazel wandered over to Everhurst, swinging about her small racquet. She paused to wave at Lady Pierce's daughters, who eyed her with disapproval.

"My lord." She bobbed politely before Everhurst. "You seem in need of an opponent for shuttlecock. Might I offer myself?"

"Miss Dartmont." Everhurst bowed, a wave of dark brown hair falling over his brow. "I confess, I had no idea why I was handed this…" He held up a bit of cork and feathers. "And commanded to amuse myself. Seems ridiculous, batting this about." A distasteful look landed on the shuttlecock. "At first I thought it a dead bird."

Hazel liked Everhurst, more so than she liked most gentlemen of his class. The viscount had a dimple in his cheek and a charming, rakish manner. Possessing a lean, athletic build, Everhurst was carelessly attractive with little of the arrogance of the other gentlemen. He could just as easily have been one of her barristers or merchants. Last night, she and Everhurst had played whist, and he'd proved to be an amusing companion. She didn't wonder at Maria's interest in him.

"It most assuredly is a game, my lord. Though, I grant you, not a great one."

"I haven't played since I was barely out of the nursery," he groused. "Which I suppose accounts for the size of the racquets."

"A battledore, my lord."

"Excuse me?"

"The racquet. It is properly called a battledore."

Everhurst rolled his eyes. "I'm guessing Lady Talbot will be pleased to watch me running about and batting this." He tossed up the bit of cork and feathers.

"I've been instructed to beat you soundly."

The side of his mouth lifted in a half-smile. "Very well, Miss Dartmont. I accept your challenge."

"I warn you, my lord. I am quite good at shuttlecock and rarely lose." She waved about the tiny racket, making a whooshing sound with every swing. "I can keep the shuttlecock up in the air for some time," Hazel boasted.

"Oh, I'm certain, Miss Dartmont," Maria said from her seat, her eyes on the viscount, "that Everhurst can keep it up much longer."

The viscount sent their hostess a wry smile but did not comment.

Hazel took a deep breath and raised her racquet. "Shall we?"

Absurd, really, to be out on the lawn taking turns batting about the shuttlecock. Everhurst was correct in that this was a child's game but also deemed entirely appropriate for young ladies, as long as too much ankle wasn't flashed about.

She dashed to and fro, laughing, hoping the entire affair looked appealing to Lady Pierce's daughters, who watched with rapt attention. Or perhaps they were merely ogling Everhurst. He was quite handsome and a terribly good sport. In either case, Hazel trusted one of them would eventually seek to take her place.

"Are you keeping count, my lord?"

"Are you?" He winked at her, dashing to the right.

Hazel leveled a gaze at him. She wasn't going to let Everhurst win a game that any lad half her size could play, no matter how much she liked him. She could certainly use a glass of punch, though, or lemonade. The sun was warm against her skin, and the breeze had all but disappeared. A strand of hair fell over her forehead, sticking to her cheek.

Glancing towards the terrace, Hazel could see Maria still on the chaise speaking to Lady Leek.

She turned back to the game, her mind still trying to work out the name of the duke who had disliked her family. Hazel recalled so many details of her life in Pensford, but the duke's name eluded her. Hazel very clearly recalled Pensford's vicar suggesting, over Mama's raisin cake, that the Dartmont family might be happier in Bristol.

Cornwall …no, that wasn't right. Cornflower ?

Hazel could still see the duke in her mind, perfectly groomed and clothed, a ruby the size of a hen's egg glittering from the stickpin in his cravat. Courtwood? You'd think she could recall the name of the man who'd had the Dartmonts chased from Pensford. No matter. She remembered the true villain with absolute clarity. August Wade. The horrid toad.

"Should have punched him harder," she said under her breath. "For having his uncle toss my father out of Pensford."

"Fifty," Everhurst said, interrupting her thoughts. "Are you growing tired yet, Miss Dartmont?"

"Not in the least. I could go for hours yet."

"As could I." Everhurst gave her a grim look.

"Oh, dear," Maria echoed from her seat. "I do hope you can, my lord."

"Good God." The tips of Everhurst's ears turned red. "Is she always like this?"

"I'm afraid so, my lord." Hazel batted the shuttlecock up once more with a laugh.

A disturbance sounded behind her, and Hazel spun about, though she didn't dare take her eyes off Everhurst to turn completely.

The game of bowls on the other side of the lawn halted and grew quiet as the participants turned in the direction of the terrace.

Maria's voice, low and solicitous, met Hazel's ears. It was a tone her friend reserved for only the most esteemed of persons. Which meant the duke had arrived.

Not that Hazel gave a fig. Everyone else could prostrate themselves at his arrogant, gout-ridden feet, but she would not. Not that she needed to concern herself with the duke. Given that she was no one of importance, His Grace was unlikely to show any interest

The polite thing to do would be to end the game of shuttlecock, but just as she was about to suggest doing so, Everhurst's attention was taken by the newly arrived guests. He barely caught the shuttlecock in time, hitting the bit of cork much harder than was warranted. It soared above Hazel, and determined not to miss, she took several steps back to catch it with her racquet. Her foot wobbled, a small hole in the grass catching at her heel. She had to quickly twist so as not to fall to the ground, and in doing so she failed to hit the shuttlecock up, instead swatting the bit of cork and feather directly behind her, towards the terrace.

Someone gasped. One of the Pierce girls.

Oh, dear.

Hazel prayed the shuttlecock wouldn't hit Maria as it went flying over her head. It was poor manners to accost your hostess. Or the refreshment table, though it was unlikely to do much damage. It was only cork, after all.

A plunk sounded as the shuttlecock made solid contact with something on the terrace.

"What the bloo—" A cold, crisp, annoyed tone echoed in the air, stopping just short of cursing.

The Pierce girls made a horrified sound in unison with their mother, Lady Pierce.

Across the lawn, Lord Garland's bowl fell out of his hands, narrowly missing the foot of Lady Coraline, who quickly hopped out of the way.

Everhurst cast an amused glance at Hazel before tucking his racquet behind him and bowing.

Well, I suppose the duke is bound to notice me now.