“On the contrary,” he said. “I am all too aware that I have a long way to go. But it would be most improper for me to continue wooing you now, without the consent of your guardians.”
“You mean my grandfather?” Verena asked in a flurried sort of way. “But what has it to do with him? He has offered us a home, yes, but he does not control my life. Besides, I am of age.”
“Mr Hawkeridge,” interrupted Mrs Peverill, rising herself and reaching out her hands to Denzell, “be sure you have my consent at least.”
“Mama! No, no, this is not possible!”
“But it is perfectly possible, Verena.”
“I thank you, Mrs Peverill,” Denzell said, taking her hands and kissing them one by one. “I hope you will forgive the deceit I practised upon you. Verena would not have me show my real intentions, for fear of what you might do.”
She nodded, pressing his hands before releasing them. “I quite understand.” Then she turned to Verena. “But now, my dearest girl, you need no longer fear for me, and you may follow your own inclinations.”
“Inclinations?” burst from old man Chaceley. “Do you tell me, girl, that you hesitate over this match? Good God, child, the boy is going to be a baron!”
“Oh, the deuce,” muttered Denzell under his breath.
This was no help at all. As if Verena gave a fig for his status. Any more than he had given for hers when he knew nothing of her background. He must get Verena out of here — and quickly.
To his intense surprise, it was Mrs Peverill who intervened. She left Verena’s side, and moved to confront her erstwhile father-in-law. Quite in the manner of a tigress protecting her young from the hunter.
“Mr Chaceley,” she said, bravely bold, “I will not have my daughter influenced by any such consideration, for I know its cost. I do not forget my darling Lambert’s unhappiness in being estranged from his family. By God’s grace, it did not last long, for I lost him all too soon.”
“What in thunder —?” began the old man.
She ignored him, continuing as if he had not spoken, “I shall be ever grateful to you for what you are doing for me — and itisfor me, for my Verena would willingly have sacrificed herself on my behalf and it is from that alone you have saved her. But believe me, sir, I had rather lose this chance of a refuge with you than see my daughter marry for anything other than love!”
“Bravo, Mrs Peverill,” Denzell said. “I am in complete agreement with you. And —” turning to seize Verena’s hand and drag her towards the door — “since that is the question I wish to thrash out with Verena, I must beg you all to excuse us for the moment.”
Verena, uttering a half-hearted protest, found herself on the other side of the parlour door, with the latter shut. She opened her mouth to speak as Denzell turned to her.
“Don’t say a word,” he warned, and his lips came down on hers so hard that she groaned a faint protest.
But the warmth of his mouth sent a wash of intense heat flooding through her body, and her knees weakened so that she sagged against him. She was barely permitted to recover from this sudden assault, when he pulled away.
“Come!” he cried, and dragged her after him towards the stair head.
Verena, all her concentration on remaining on her feet as she was rushed down the stairs, did not notice that this little episode had been overlooked. Betsey, coming down from above with a tray containing a decanter and glasses, had paused as the door opened. She smiled with grim satisfaction as she watched her young charge disappearing in the wake of her determined suitor.
Once outside, however, Verena dug in her heels and pulled hard to stop the onrush of these too speedy events.
“Denzell, wait! Oh, pray, wait for a moment.”
He paused and turned to look at her, so much tenderness in his face that her heart somersaulted painfully. “What is it, dearest snow maiden?”
“What are you doing?” she asked breathlessly. “Where are you taking me?”
He uttered a short laugh. “To tell you the truth, I don’t know. I had to get you alone.” Taking hold of her arms, he drew her towards him. “Am I rushing you?”
“Yes!”
Denzell sighed. “Forgive me! I am so elated, I cannot help myself.”
Verena looked up at him with trouble in her eyes. “But I am afraid, Denzell.”
He stilled, his hands running up to her shoulders. His gaze roved over her features, caressing the curves that made up that perfect oval, the sculptured bow of a mouth, the eyes set wide apart. Lightly, like a warm breeze, he spoke. “There’s no need.”
Verena’s breath caught in a half-sob. “You make it sound so easy.”
