“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.”   

   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.”

   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

   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

   Francis allowed his eyes to travel, gently, so as not to startle her, over the delicious figure before him. Very nice. His smile grew. The silence around him penetrated his mind, entirely otherwise occupied. “Rickshaw, I think you’d better introduce us.” he said to his brother’s astounding butler.    Rickshaw almost allowed a frown to mar his impassive countenance. But he knew better than to try to avoid the unavoidable. Exchanging a glance of fellow feeling with Mr. Cunnings, he obliged in sternly disapproving tones. “Captain Francis Cambridge, Miss Emma Fleming. The young lady is His Grace’s youngest ward, sir.”    With a start, Francis’s gaze, which had been locked with Emma’s, flew to Rickshaw’s face. “Ward?&rdquo