It occurred to him that her explanation of her life history had been curiously glib and decidedly short in detail. "Start at the beginning. Who was your mother and when did she die?"
Margaret has come unprepared to recite her history, imagining the Duke to be cognizant of the facts. Still, in the circumstances, she could hardly refuse. "My mother was Margaret Birmingham, if the Staffordshire Birminghams."
Felix nodded. An ancient family, well-known and well-connected.
Margaret's gaze had wandered to the rows of books lining the shelves behind the Duke. "She died shortly after I was born. I never knew her. After some years, my father married again, this time to the daughter of a local family who were about to leave for the colonies. Emily was very good to me and she looked after all of us comfortably, until she died six years ago. Of course, my father was disappointed that he never had a sin and he rarely paid any attention to the four of us, so it was all left up to Emily."
The more he heard of him, the more Felix was convinced that Sir Lucas Fleming had had a screw loose. He had clearly been a most unnatural parent. Still, the others were only Miss Fleming's half-sisters. Presumably they were not all as ravishing as she. It occurred to him that he should ask for clarification on this point but, before he could properly phrase the question, another and equally intriguing matter came to mind.
"Why was it none of you was presented before? If your father was sufficiently concerned to organize a guardian for you, surely the easiest solution would have been to have handed you into the care of husbands?"
Margaret saw no reason not to satisfy what was, after all, an entirely understandable curiosity. "We were never presented because my father disapproved if such...oh, frippery pastimes! To be perfectly honest, I sometimes thought he disapproved of women in general."
Felix blinked.
Margaret continued, "As for marriage, he had organized that after a fashion. I was supposed to have married Edward Faraday, our neighbor." Involuntarily, her face assumed an expression of distaste.
Felix was amused. "Wouldn't he do?"
Margaret's gaze returned to the saturnine face. "You haven't met him or you wouldn't need to ask. He's..." she wrinkled her nose as she sought for an adequate description. "Righteous," she finally pronounced.
At that, Felix laughed. "Clearly out of the question."
Margaret ignored the provocation in the blue eyes. "Papa had similar plans for my sisters, only, as he never noticed they were of marriageable age and I never chose to bring it to his attention, nothing came of them either."
Perceiving Miss Fleming's evident satisfaction, Felix made a mental note to beware of her manipulative tendencies. "Very well. So much for the past. Now to the future. What was your arrangement with my uncle?"
The grey-green gaze was entirely innocent as it rested on his face. Felix did not know whether to believe it or not.
"Well, it was really his idea, but it seemed a perfectly sensible one to me. He suggested we should be presented to the ton. I suspect he intended to find us suitable husbands and so bring his guardianship to an end." She paused, thinking. "I'm not aware of the terms of my father's will, but I assume such arrangements terminate should we marry?"
"Very likely," agreed Felix. The throbbing in his head had eased considerably. His uncle's plan had much to recommend it, but, personally, he would much prefer not to have any wards at all. And he would be damned if he would have Miss Fleming as his ward—that would cramp his style far too much. There were a few things even reprobates such as he held sacred and guardianship was one.
He knew she was watching him. It made no further comment, his eyes fixed frowningly on his blotter as he considered his next move. At last, looking up at her, he said, "I've heard nothing of this until now. I'll have to get my solicitors to sort it out. Which firm handles your affairs?"
"Bailey and Brown. In Chancery Lane."
"Well, at least that simplifies matters. They handle the Twyford estates as well as my others." He laid the ice-pack down and looked at Margaret, a slight frown in his blue eyes. "Where are you staying?"
"Guile's. We arrived yesterday."
Another thought occurred to Felix. "On what have you been living for the last eighteen months?"
"Oh, we all had money left us by our mothers. We arranged to stare on that and leave our patrimony untouched."
Felix nodded slowly. "But who had you in charge? You can't have travelled halfway the world alone."
For the first time during this strange interview, Felix saw Miss Fleming blush, ever so lightly. "Our maid and coachman, who acted as our courier, stayed with us."
The witness of the reply did not deceive Felix. "Allow me to comment, Miss Fleming, as your potential guardian, that such an arrangement will not do. Regardless of what may have been acceptable overseas, such a situation will not pass muster in London." He paused, considering the proprieties for what was surely the first time in his life. "At least you're at Guile's for the moment. That's safe enough."
After another pause, during which his gaze did not leave Margaret's face, he said, I'll see Bailey this morning and settle the matter. I'll call on you at two to let you know how things have fallen out." A vision of himself meeting a beautiful young lady and attempting to converse with her within the portals of fashionable Guile's, under the fascinated gaze of all the other patrons, flashed before his eyes. "On second thoughts, I'll take you for a drive in the Park. That way," he continued in reply to the question in her grey-green eyes, "we might actually get a chance to talk."
He tugged the bell pull and Rickshaw appeared. "Have the carriage brought around. Miss Fleming is returning to Guile's."
"Yes, Your Grace."
"Oh, no! I couldn't put you to so much trouble," said Margaret.
"My dear child," drawled Felix, "my wards would certainly not go about London in hacks. See to it, Rickshaw."
"Yes, Your Grace." Rickshaw withdrew, for once in perfect agreement with his master.
Margaret found the blue eyes, which had quizzed her throughout this exchange, still regarding her, a gently mocking light in their depths. But she was a lady of no little courage and smiled back serenely, unknowingly sealing her fate.
Never, thought Felix, had he met a woman so attractive. One way or another, he would break the ties of guardianship. A short silence fell, punctuated by the steady ticking of the long case clock in the corner. Felix took the opportunity afforded by Miss Fleming's apparent fascination with the rows of leather-bound tomes at his back to study her face once more. A fresh face, full of lovely humour and a brand of calm self-possession which, in his experience, was rarely found in young women. Undoubtedly a woman of character.
His sharp ears caught the sound of carriage wheels in the street. He rose and Margaret perforce rose, too. "Come, Miss Fleming. Your carriage awaits."
Felix led her to the front door but forbore to go any further, bowing over her hand gracefully before allowing Rickshaw to escort her to the waiting carriage. The less chance there was for anyone to see him with her the better. At least until he had solved this guardianship tangle.
As soon as the carriage door was shut by the majestic Rickshaw, the horses moved forward at a trot. Margaret lay back against the squabs, her gaze fixed unseeingly on the near-side window as the carriage traversed fashionable London. Bemused, she tried to gauge the effect of the unexpected turn of their futures had taken. Imagine having a guardian like that! Although surprised at being redirected from the Twyford House to Delmere House, she had still expected to meet the vague and amenable gentleman who had so so readily acquiesced, albeit by correspondence, to all her previous suggestions. Her mental picture of His Grace of Twyford had been of a man in late middle age, bewigged as many of her father’s generation were, distinctly past his prime and with no real interest in dealing with four lively young women. She spared a small smile as she jett
Within minutes of Margaret Fleming’s departure from Delmere House, Felix has issued a succession of orders, one of which caused Mr. Robert Bailey, son of Mr. Joseph Bailey, the patriarch of the firm Bailey and Brown, Solicitors, of Chancery Lane, to present himself at Delmere House just before eleven. Mr. Bailey was a dry, desiccated man of uncertain age, very correctly attired in dusty black. He was his father’s son in every way and, now that his sire was no longer able to leave his bed, he attended to all his father’s wealthier clients. As Rickshaw showed him into the well-appointed library, he breathed a sigh of relief, not for the first time, that it was Felix Cambridge who had inherited the difficult Twyford estates. Unknown to Felix, Mr. Bailey held him in particular esteem, frequently wishing that others among his clients could be equally straightforward and decisive. It really made life so much easier.
Felix was frowning. “Of course,” Mr. Bailey went on, consulting the documents on his knee, “You would only be responsible for the three young girls.” Instantly he had his client’s attention, the blue eyes oddly piercing. “Oh? Why is that?” “Under the terms of their father’s will, the Missed Fleming were given into the care of the Duke of Twyford until they attained the age of twenty-five or married. According to my records, I believe Miss Fleming to be nearing her twenty-sixth birthday. So she could , should she wish, assume responsibility for herself.” Felix’s
After Mr. Bailey left, Felix issued a set of rapid and comprehensive orders to his majordomo Gibson. In response, his savants flew to various corners of London, some to Twyford House, others to certain agencies specializing in the hire of household staff to the élite of the ton. One footman was despatched with a note from the Duke to an address in Half Moon Street, requesting the favour of a private interview with his paternal aunt, Lady Hillsborough. As Felix had intended, his politely worded missive intrigued his aunt. Wondering what had prompted such a strange request from her reprehensible nephew, she immediately granted it and settled down to await his coming with an air of pleasurable anticipation. Felix arrived at the small house shortly after noon. He found his aunt attired in a very becoming gown of purple sarsenet with a new and unquestionably modish wig perched atop her commanding visa
Knowing this was an attitude he was going to meet increasingly in the next few weeks, Felix sighed. In an even tone suggestive of long suffering, he pointed out the obvious. "They weren't left to me but to my esteemed and now departed uncle's care. Mind you, I can't see that he'd have been much use to 'em either." Wiping the tears from her eyes, Lady Hillsborough considered this view. "Can't see it myself," she admitted. "Harry always was a slow-top. Who are they?" "The Misses Fleming. From Hertfordshire." Felix proceeded to give her a brief résumé of the life history of the Flemings, ending with the information that it transpired all four girls were heiresses. Amelia Hillsborough was taken aback. "And you say they're beautiful to boot?" "The one I've seen, Margaret, the eldest, most definitely is."&n
When he called at Guile's promptly at two, Felix was relieved to find Miss Fleming alone in the foyer, seated on a chaise opposite the door, her bonnet beside her. He was not to know that Margaret had had to exert every last particle of persuasion to achieve this end. And she had been quite unable to prevent her three sisters from keeping watch from the windows of their bedchambers. As she had expected, she had had to describe His Grace of Twyford in detail for her sisters. Looking up at the figure striding across the foyer towards her, she did not think she had done too badly. What had been hardest to convey was the indefinable air that hung about him—compelling, exciting, it immediately brought to mind a whole range of emotions well-bred young ladies were not supposed to comprehend, let alone feel. As he took her hand for an instant in his own,
They had reached the gates of the Park and turned into the carriage drive. Soon, the curricle was bowling along at a steady pace under the trees, still devoid of any by the earliest leaves. A light breeze lifted the ends of the ribbons on Margaret's hat and playfully danced along the horses' dark manes. Felix watched as Margaret gazed about her with interest. "I'm afraid you'll not see many notables at this hour. Mostly nursemaids and their charges. Later, between three and five, it'll crowded. The Season's not yet begun in earnest, but by now most people will have returned to town. And the Park is the place to be seen. All the old biddies come here to exchange the latest on-dits and all the young ladies promenade along the walks with their beaux." "I see." Margaret smiled to herself, a secret smile as she imagined how she and her sisters would fit into this scene. Feli
"Oooh, Maggie! Isn't he magnificent?" Maribella's round eyes, brilliant and bright, greeted Margaret as she entered their parlour. "Did he agree to be our guardian?" Asked the phlegmatic Sophia. And, "Is he nice?" from the youngest Emma. All the important questions, thought Margaret with an affectionate smile, as she threw her bonnet aside and subsided into an armchair with a whisper of her stylish skirts. Her three half-sisters gathered around eagerly. She eyed them fondly. It would be hard to find three more attractive young ladies, even though she did say so herself. Twenty-year-old Sophia, with her dark brown hair and dramatically pale face, settling herself on one arm of her chair. Maribella on h