Chapter 1.2 (Part 2)

   Her announcement was received in perfect silence. A long paused ensued, during which Felix sat unmoving, his sharp blue gaze fixed unwaveringly on his visitor. She bore this scrutiny for some minutes, before letting her brows rise in polite and still amused enquiry.

   Felix closed his eyes and groaned. “Oh, God.”

   It had only taken a moment to work it out. The only woman he could not seduce was his own ward. And he had already decided he very definitely wanted to seduce Margaret Fleming. With an effort, he dragged his mind back to the matter at hand. He opened his eyes. Hopefully, she would put his reaction down to natural disbelief. Encountering the grey-green eyes, now even more amused, he was not so sure. “Explain, if you please. Simple language only. I’m not up to unraveling mysteries at the moment.”

   Margaret could not help grinning. She had noticed twinges of what she guessed to be pain passing spasmodically through the blue eyes. “If your head hurts that much, why don’t you try an ice-pack? I assure you I won’t mind.”

   Felix there her a look of loathing. His head felt as if it was splitting, but his dared she be so lost to all propriety as to notice, let alone mention it? Still, she was perfectly right. An ice-pack was exactly what he needed. With a darkling look, he reached for the bell pull.

   Rickshaw came in answer to his summons and received the order for an ice-pack without noticeable perturbation. “Now, Your Grace?”

   “Of course now! What use will it be later?” Felix winced at the sound of his own voice.

   “As Your Grace wished.” The sepulchral tones left Felix in no doubt of his butler’s deep disapproval.

   As the door closed behind Rickshaw, Felix lay back in the chair, his fingers at his temples, and fixed Margaret with an unnerving stare. “You may commence.”

   She smiled, entirely at her ease once more. “My father was Sir Lucas Fleming. He was an old friend of the Duke of Twyford—the previous Duke, I imagine.”

   Felix nodded. “My uncle. I inherited the title from him. He was killed unexpectedly three months ago, together with his two sons. I never expected to inherit the estate, so am unfamiliar with whatever arrangements your parent may have made with the last Duke.”

   Margaret nodded and waited until Rickshaw, delivering the requested ice-pack on a silver salver to his master, withdrew. “I see. When my father died eighteen months ago, my sisters and I were informed that he had left us to the guardianship of the Duke of Twyford.”

   “Eighteen months ago? What have you been doing since then?”

   “We stayed on the estate for a time. It passed to a distant cousin and he was prepared to let us remain. But it seemed senseless to stay buried there forever. The Duke wanted us to join his household immediately, but we were in mourning. I persuaded him to let us go to my late stepmother’s family in New York they’d always wanted us to visit and it seemed the perfect opportunity. I wrote to him when we were in Nee York, telling him we would call on him when we returned to England and giving him the date of our expected arrival. He replied and suggested I call on him today. And so, here I am.”

   Felix saw it all now. Margaret Fleming was yer another part of his damnably awkward inheritance. Having led a life of unfettered hedonism from his earliest days, a rakehell ever since he came on the town, Felix has soon understood that his lifestyle required capital to support it. So he had ensured his estates were all run efficiently and well. The Delmere estates he had inherited from his father were a model of modern estate management. But his uncle Harry had never much real interest in his far larger holdings. After the tragic boating accident which had unexpectedly foisted on to him the responsibilities of the dukedom of Twyford, Felix had found a complete overhaul all his uncle’w numerous estates was essential if they were not to sap the strength from his more prosperous Delmere holdings. The last three months had been spent in constant upheaval, with the old Twyford retainers trying to come to grips with the new Duke And His very different style. For Felix, they had been three months of unending work. Only this week, he had finally thought that the end of the worst was in sight. He had packed his long-suffering secretary, John Cunnings, off home for a much needed rest. And now, quite clearly, the next chapter in the saga of his Twyford inheritance was about to start.

   “You mentioned sisters. How many?”

   “My half-sisters, really. There are four of us, altogether.”

   The lightness of the answer made Felix instantly suspicious. “How old?”

   There was a noticeable hesitation before Margaret answered, “Twenty, nineteen and eighteen.”

   The effect on Felix was electric. “Good Lord! They didn’t accompany you here, did they?”

   Bewildered, Margaret replied, “No. I left them at the hotel.”

   “Thank God for that,” said Felix. Encountering Margaret’s enquiring gaze, he smiled. “If anyone had seen them entering here, it would have been around town in a flash that I was setting up a harem.”

   The smile made Margaret blink. At his words, her grey eyes widened slightly. She could hardly pretend not to understand. Noticing the peculiar light in the blue eyes as they rested on her, it seemed a very good thing she was the Duke’s ward. From her admittedly small understanding of the morals of his type, she suspected her position would keep her safe as little else might.

   Unbeknownst to her, Felix was thinking precisely the same thing. And resolving to divest himself of his latest inherited responsibility wit all possible speed. Aside from having no wish whatever to figure as the guardian of four young ladies of marriageable age, he needed to clear the onstacles from his path to Margaret Fleming.