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Chapter 13.5 (Part 2)
While the Duke and Duchess of Twyford and Lord and Lady Daniel exchanged congratulations all around, Lady Hillsborough looked on in disgust. “What I want to know,” she said, when she could make herself heard once more, “is if I’m to be entirely done out of weddings, even after all my efforts to see you all in person’s mouse-trap?”
“Oh, there are still two Flemings to go, so I wouldn’t give up hope,” returned her nephew, smiling down at her with transparent goodwill. “Apropos of which, has anyone seen the other two lately?”
No one had. When applied to, Millard imparted the information that Lord Byron had called for Miss Maribella just before two. They had departed in Lord Byron’s carriage. Mr. Francis has d
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One floor below, Margaret Fleming sat calmly reading His Grace of Twyford's morning paper in an armchair by his library hearth. If she felt any qualms over the propriety if her present position, she hid them well. Her charmingly candid countenance was free of all nervousness and, as she scanned a frankly libellous account of a garden party enlivened by the scandalous propensities of the ageing Duke Duke if Cumberland, an engaging smile curved her generous lips. In truth, she was looking forward to her meeting with the Duke. She and her sisters had spent a most enjoyable eighteen months, the wine of freedom a heady tonic after their previously monastic existence. But it was time and more for them to embark on the serious business of securing their futures. To do that, they needs must enter the ton, that glittering arena thus far denied them. And, for them, the Duke of Twyford undeniably held the key to that particular door. Hearing the t
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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&rsquo
The Duke And His Four Wards Chapter 1.2 (Part 3)
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 th
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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
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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.
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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
The Duke And His Four Wards Chapter 2.1 (Part 1)
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
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