Henry looked up and saw, ahead of them, Lord Daniel’s curricle drawn up outside Delmere House. Hammington himself, elegantly attired, descended and turned to give instructions to his groom, before strolling towards the steps leading up to the door. He was joined by Francis and Henry.    Francis grinned. “Do you want to see Felix, too?”    Daniel Hammington’s face remained inscrutable. “As it happens, I do,” he answered equably. As his glance flickered over the unusually precise picture both Francis and Henry presented, he added, “Am I to take it there’s a queue?”    “Afraid so,” confirmed Henry, grinning in spite of himself. “Maybe we shou

   As usual when with her guardian, time flew and it was only when a chill in the breeze penetrated her thin cloak that Margaret glanced up and found the afternoon gone. The curricle was travelling smoothly down a well surfaced road, lined with low hedges set back a little from the carriageway. Beyond these, neat fields stretched sleepily under the waning sun, a few scattered sheep and cattle attesting to the fact that they were deep in the country. From the direction of the sub, they were travelling south, away from the capital. With a puzzled frown, she turned to the man beside her. “Shouldn’t we be heading back?”    Felix glanced down at her, his devilish grin in evidence. “We aren’t going back.”    Margaret’s brain flatly refuses to accept

   “Sophia?” Daniel tried to squint down at the face under the dark hair covering his chest.    “Mmm,” Sophia replied sleepily, snuggling comfortably against him.    Daniel grinned and gave up trying to rouse her. His eyes drifted to the ceiling as he gently stroke her back. Serve her right if she was exhausted.    Together with Francis and Henry, he had followed the strongly disapproving Millard to the back parlour. He had announced them, to the obvious consternation of the three occupants. Daniel’s grin broadened as he recalled the scene. Maribella had looked positively stricken with guilt, Emma had not known what to think and Sophia had simply stood, her back to the windows, and w

   For Francis Cambridge, the look on Emma’s face as he walked into the back parlour was easy to read. Total confusion. On Emma, it was a particularly attractive attitude and one wig which he was thoroughly conversant. With a grin, he went to her and took her hand, kissed it and tucked it into his arm. “Let’s go into the garden. I want to talk to you.”    As talking to Francis in gardens had become something of a habit, Emma went with him, curious to know what he wished to say and wondering why her heart was leaping about so uncomfortably.    Francis led her down the path that bordered the large main lawn until they reached an archway formed by a rambling rose. This gave access to the rose gardens. Here, they came to a stone bench bathed in softly dappled sunshi

   The clink of crockery woke Margaret. She stretched languorously amid the soft cushions, the sensuous drift of the silken covers over her still tingling skin bringing back clear memories of the past hours. She was alone in the bed. Peering through the concealing silk canopy, she spied Felix, tastefully clad in a long silk robe, watching a small dapper servants laying out dishes on the low tables on the other side of the room. The light from the brass lamps suffused the scene with a soft glow. She wondered what the time was.    Lying back in the luxurious cushions, she pondered her state. Her final lesson had been in two parts. The first was concluded fairly soon after Felix had joined her in the huge bed; the second, a much more lingering affair, had spun out the hours of the evening. In between, Felix had, to her lasting shock, asked her to marry him. She