necklines, and quaint poke bonnets from
under which ringlets would peep. Of gentlemen dressed in the fashion of the day, as dictated by Beau Brummel, for there was a different meaning attached to the title of 'Dandy' in those days.
At the thought of dress, Jenny found herself comparing Mark's informal wear of pale blue shirt, navy blazer and navy slacks, to the tight-fitting velvet, short-waisted coat with pointed tails, and long skin-tight breeches that depicted the Dandy of those days. To her consternation she found that he would present a fine figure of a man, and her wilful thoughts ran on unheeding as the name 'Prince Charming' automatically came to mind, and she was jerked out of her reverie with a jolt. He was not her Prince Charming, or anybody's—not even poor Dilys's!
With her abrupt curtailment of any more wishful thinking in this direction, Jenny was totally unprepared for a repeat performance from Mark on precisely the same spot on which he had chosen to propose to her two years ago. In the circumstances, she might have been forgiven for thinking she had imagined the low, 'Marry me, Jenny,' but her partially shocked senses knew very well she was not dreaming it; the firm -pressure of his hand on her arm assured her of this.
As the words were said for her ears alone, it was the one crum of comfort for Jenny that Dilys could not hav e heard them. She shook her head in a motion that clearly showed her blind unacceptance of his proposal, whereupon the pressure on her arm increased to almost unbearable tension, and she
understood the silent message he was giving her. He had meant what he had said, and was not taking no for an answer.
The rest of the tour passed in a kind of daze for Jenny, as once before she had been made to come out of her reveries of the past by a few simple words that had transported her back to the twentieth century in the space of a second. But now, unlike before, the sensation was not a pleasant one and she could have cried for Mark's insensibility in reawakening the only pleasant memories she had left of their past association.
He must have been in dire straits indeed to have thrown away his independence, although Jenny had said 'yes' before, hadn't she? and was jilted for her trouble, she thought bitterly, and if he thought she would be prepared to enter into a make-believe engagement just to throw Dilys off the scent, he had better think again!
There would not, she thought grimly, be any more chances given to Mark to bully her into acting the part he had assigned her, for she was determined to get out, here and now, and found herself almost running towards the car when they left the Pavilion. The minute they got back to Peacock's Walk, she would pack. Mark was big enough to look after himself, and if he couldn't, that was just too bad. He had gone down in her estimation; no longer would she see him as a strong character, but a weak-kneed refugee from the altar. She wished Dilys joy of him. If that was the kind of man she wanted, then she was welcome to him.
On the way back to the hotel Dilys, as Jenny had expected, suggested they make a day of it, and asked Jenny to suggest some other place they might visit, preferably somewhere with gardens—or, they could have a picnic on the beach, couldn't they? It was such a lovely day, it was a pity to waste it.
Jenny had no intention of accompanying the party anywhere once they had got back to the hotel, but thought a picnic would be a nice idea—for them that was, as she had work to do and went on to give directions as to where the more secluded beaches were to be found.
Her advice, not to mention her decision to bow out of the party, pleased Dilys who shot her an approving look, and gave her uncle an appealing one. If he were to also bow out, it would give her the solo date with Mark she had been angling for since she had arrived.
That Mark made no objection to her plan for absenting herself from their company caused Jenny
under which ringlets would peep. Of gentlemen dressed in the fashion of the day, as dictated by Beau Brummel, for there was a different meaning attached to the title of 'Dandy' in those days.
At the thought of dress, Jenny found herself comparing Mark's informal wear of pale blue shirt, navy blazer and navy slacks, to the tight-fitting velvet, short-waisted coat with pointed tails, and long skin-tight breeches that depicted the Dandy of those days. To her consternation she found that he would present a fine figure of a man, and her wilful thoughts ran on unheeding as the name 'Prince Charming' automatically came to mind, and she was jerked out of her reverie with a jolt. He was not her Prince Charming, or anybody's—not even poor Dilys's!
With her abrupt curtailment of any more wishful thinking in this direction, Jenny was totally unprepared for a repeat performance from Mark on precisely the same spot on which he had chosen to propose to her two years ago. In the circumstances, she might have been forgiven for thinking she had imagined the low, 'Marry me, Jenny,' but her partially shocked senses knew very well she was not dreaming it; the firm -pressure of his hand on her arm assured her of this.
As the words were said for her ears alone, it was the one crum of comfort for Jenny that Dilys could not hav e heard them. She shook her head in a motion that clearly showed her blind unacceptance of his proposal, whereupon the pressure on her arm increased to almost unbearable tension, and she
understood the silent message he was giving her. He had meant what he had said, and was not taking no for an answer.
The rest of the tour passed in a kind of daze for Jenny, as once before she had been made to come out of her reveries of the past by a few simple words that had transported her back to the twentieth century in the space of a second. But now, unlike before, the sensation was not a pleasant one and she could have cried for Mark's insensibility in reawakening the only pleasant memories she had left of their past association.
He must have been in dire straits indeed to have thrown away his independence, although Jenny had said 'yes' before, hadn't she? and was jilted for her trouble, she thought bitterly, and if he thought she would be prepared to enter into a make-believe engagement just to throw Dilys off the scent, he had better think again!
There would not, she thought grimly, be any more chances given to Mark to bully her into acting the part he had assigned her, for she was determined to get out, here and now, and found herself almost running towards the car when they left the Pavilion. The minute they got back to Peacock's Walk, she would pack. Mark was big enough to look after himself, and if he couldn't, that was just too bad. He had gone down in her estimation; no longer would she see him as a strong character, but a weak-kneed refugee from the altar. She wished Dilys joy of him. If that was the kind of man she wanted, then she was welcome to him.
On the way back to the hotel Dilys, as Jenny had expected, suggested they make a day of it, and asked Jenny to suggest some other place they might visit, preferably somewhere with gardens—or, they could have a picnic on the beach, couldn't they? It was such a lovely day, it was a pity to waste it.
Jenny had no intention of accompanying the party anywhere once they had got back to the hotel, but thought a picnic would be a nice idea—for them that was, as she had work to do and went on to give directions as to where the more secluded beaches were to be found.
Her advice, not to mention her decision to bow out of the party, pleased Dilys who shot her an approving look, and gave her uncle an appealing one. If he were to also bow out, it would give her the solo date with Mark she had been angling for since she had arrived.
That Mark made no objection to her plan for absenting herself from their company caused Jenny
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