Felix was worried. Seriously worried. Since far first night at Almack’s, the situation between Sophia Fleming and Daniel Hammington has rapidly deteriorated to a state which, from experience, he knew was fraught with danger. As he watched Sophia across Lady Langdon’s ballroom, chatting with determined avidity to an eminently respectable and thoroughly boring young gentleman, his brows drew together in a considering frown. If, at the beginning of his guardianship, anyone had asked him where his sympathies would lie, with the Misses Fleming or the gentlemen of London, he would unhesitatingly have allied himself with his wards, on the grounds that four exquisite but relatively inexperienced country misses would need all the help they could get to defend their virtue successfully against the highly knowledgeable rakes extant within the ton. Now, a month later, having gained first-hand experience of the tenacious pervers
Felix slowly passed through the throng, stopping here and there to chat with acquaintances, his intended goal his aunt, sitting in a blaze of glorious purple on a chaise by the side of the room. But before he had reached her, a hand on his arm drew him around to face the sharp features of Clara Portland. “Your Grace! It’s been such an age since we’ve ...talked.” Her ladyship’s brown eyes quizzed him playfully. Her arch tone irritated Felix. It was on the tip of his tongue to recommend she took lessons in flirting from Maribella before she tried her tricks on him. Instead, he took her hand from his sleeve, bowed over it and pointedly returned to her, “As you’re doubtless aware, Clara, I have other claims on my time.”
“Count me out.” Daniel Hammington threw his cards on the table and pushed back his chair. None of the other players was surprised to see him leave. Normally an excellent player, tonight his lordship has clearly had his mind elsewhere. And the brandy he had drunk was hardly calculated to improve matters, although his gait, as he headed for the ballroom, was perfectly steady. In the ballroom, Daniel paused to glance about. He saw the musicians tuning up and then sighted his prey. Almost as if she sensed his approach, Sophia turned as he came up to her. The look of sudden wariness that came into her large eyes pricked his conscience and, consequently, his temper. “My dance, I think.”
A stone terrace extended along the side of the house, the balustrade broken here and there by steps leading down to the gardens. Flambeaux places in brackets along the walls three flickering light down into the avenues and any number of couples could be seen, walking and talking quietly amid the greenery. Unhurriedly, Daniel led her to the end of the terrace and then down the steps into a deserted walk. They both breathed in the heady freshness of the night air, calming their disordered senses and, without the need to exchange words, each drew some measure of comfort from each other’s presence. At the end of the path, a secluded summer-house stood, white paintwork showing clearly against the black shadows of the shrubbery behind it. As Daniel had hoped, the summer-house
Relieved to find she was not crying, as he had thought, Daniel immediately caught her hand to prevent her flying from him again. Stung by the shock his touch always gave her, intensified now, she was annoyed to discover, Sophia tried to pull her hand away. When he refused to let her go, she said, her voice infused with an iciness designed to freeze, “Kindly release me, Lord Daniel.” On hearing her voice, Daniel placed the emotion that was holding her so rigid. The knowledge that she was angry, nay, furious, did nothing to improve his own temper, stirred to life by her abrupt flight. Forcing his voice to a reasonableness he was far from the feeling, he said, “If you’ll give me your word you’ll not run away from me, I’ll release you.”
How the hell was he to get rid of her? Felix, Lady Portland on his arm, had twice traversed the terrace. He had no intention of descending to the shadowy avenues. He had no intention of paying any further attention to Lady Portland at all. Lady Portland, in the other hand, was waiting for his attentions to begin and was rather surprised at his lack of ardour in keeping to the terrace. They were returning at the end of the terrace, when Felix, glancing along, saw Margaret come out of the ballroom, alone, and walk quickly to the balustrade and peer over. She was clearly seeking someone. Clara Portland, prattling on at his side, had not seen her. With the reflexes necessary for being one of the more successful rakes in the ton. Frlix whisked her ladyship back into the ballroom via the door they were about to pass.
Sanity returned to Sophia's mind like water in a bucket, slowing filling from a dripping tap, bit by bit, until it was full. For one long moment, she allowed her mind to remain blank, savouring the pleasure of being held so gently against him. Then, the world returned and demanded her response. She struggled to sit up and was promptly helped to her feet. She checked her gown and found it perfectly tidy, bar one knot of ribbon on her sleeve which seemed to have gone missing. Daniel, who had returned to earth long before, had been engaged in some furious thinking. But, try as he might, he could not imagine how she would react. Like Felix, it had been a long time since young virgins had been his prey. As she stood, he tried to catch a glimpse of her face in the dim light but she perversely kept it averted. In the end, he caught her hands and drew her to stand before him. "Sweetheart, are you all right?" St
Felix took a long sip of his brandy and savoured the smooth warmth as it slid down his throat. He stretched his legs to the fire. The book he had been trying to read rested open, on his thighs, one strong hand holding it still. He moved his shoulders slightly, settling them into the comfort of well padded leather and let his head fall back against the chair. It was the first night since the beginning of the Season that he had had a quiet evening at home. And he needed it. Who would have thought his four wards would make such a drastic change in a hitherto well-ordered existence? Then he remembered. He had. But he had not really believed his own dire predictions. And the only reason he was at home tonight was because Sophia, still affected by her brush with Daniel the night before, had elected to remain at home and Margaret had stayed with her. He deeme
He had left Daniel packing at Hammington House and returned to the comfort of his own home to spend a quiet evening in contemplation of his wards. Their problems should really not cause surprise. At first sight, he had known what sort of men the Fleming girls would attract. And there was no denying they responded to such men. Even Maribella seemed hellbent in tangling with rakes. Thankfully, Emma seemed too quiet and gentle to take the same road—three rakes in any family should certainly be enough. Family? The thought sobered him. He sat, eyes on the flames leaping in the grate, and pondered the odd notion. His reverie was interrupted by sounds of an arrival. He glanced at the clock and frowned. Too late for callers. What now? He reached the hall in time to see Rickshaw