Amelia Hillsborough flicked open her fan and plied it vigorously. Under cover of her voluminous skirts, she slipped her feet free of her evening slippers. She had forgot how stifling the small parties, held in the run-up to the Season proper, could be. Every bit as bad as the crushers later in the Season. But there, at least, she would have plenty of her own friends to gossip with. The mothers and chaperons of the current batch of débutantes were a generation removed from her own and at these small parties they were generally the only older members present. Marian Winford has elected to remain at Twyford House this evening, which left Amelia with little to do but watch her charges. And even that, she mused to herself, was not exactly riveting entertainment.
True, Felix was naturally absent, which meant her primary interest in the entire business
Satisfied that Margaret, like Emma and Maribella, needed no help from her, Lady Hillsborough moved her gaze on, scanning the room for Sophia’s dark head. When her first survey drew no result, she sat up straighter, a slight frown in her eyes. Daniel Hammington was here, somewhere, drat him. He had attended every party they had been to this week, a fact which of itself had already drawn comment. His attentions to Sophia were becoming increasingly marked. Amelia knee all the Hammingtons. She had known Daniel’s father and doubted not the truth of the ‘like father, like son’ adage. But surely Sophia was too sensible to... she wasted no time in completing that thought but started a careful, methodical and entirely well-disguised visual search. From her present position, on a slightly raised dais to one side, she commanded a view of the whole room. Her gaze pass
Clara, Lady Portland, thought Felix savagely, had no right to the title. He would grant she was attractive, in a blowsy sort of way, but her conduct left much to be desired. She had hailed him almost as soon as he had entered the Park. He rarely drove there except when expediency demanded. Consequently, her ladyship has been surprised to see his curricle, drawn by his famous match bays, advancing along the avenue. He had been forced to pull up or run the silly woman down. The considerable difficulty in conversing at any length with someone perched six feet and more above you, particularly when that someone displayed the most blatant uninterest, had not discouraged Lady Portland. She had done her best to prolong the exchange in the dim hope, Felix knew, of faking an invitation to ride beside him. She had finally admitted defeat and archly let him go, but not before issuing a thickly veiled invitation which he had had BJ compunction in declining. As she had been unwise en
“Not riding today?” asked Felix. “No. Lady Hillsborough felt we should not entirely desert the matrons.” Felix smiled. “True enough. It don’t do to put people’s backs up unnecessarily.” Margaret turned to stare at him. “Your philosophy?” Amelia had told her enough of her guardian’s past to realize this was unlikely. Felix frowned. Miss Margaret Fleming was a great deal too knowing. Unprepared to answer her query, he changed the subject. “Where’s Sophia?” “Lord D
Climbing the steps to Twyford House the next evening, Felix was still in two minds over whether he was doing the right thing. He was far too wise to be overly attentive to Margaret, yet if he did not make a push to engage her interest, she would shortly be the object of the attentions of a far larger circle of gentlemen, few of whom would hesitate to attend Almack’s purely because they disliked the mooned over by very young women. He hoped, in his capacity as their guardian, to confine his attentions to the Fleming sisters and so escape the usual jostle of matchmaking mamas. They should have learned by now that he was not likely to succumb to their daughters’ vapid charms. Still, he was not looking forward to the evening. If truth were told, he had been hearing about his wards on all sides for the past week. They had caught the fancy of the
Felix stayed by his wards until they were claimed for the first dance. His sharp eyes had seen a number of less than desirable gentlemen approach the sisters, only to veer away as they saw him. If nothing else, his presence had achieved that much. Searching through the crowd, he finally spotted Daniel Hammington disappearing into one of the salons where refreshments were laid out. "Going to give them the go-by for at least a week, huh?" he growled as he came up behind Lord Daniel. Daniel choked in the lemonade he had just drunk. Felix gazed in horror at the glass in his friend's hand. "No! Bless me, Daniel! You turned temperate?" Daniel grimaced. "Have to drink something and seemed like the best of a bad lot." His wave indicated the unexciting range of beverage available. "Thirsty work, getting a dance
Margaret was surprised that Felix had remained at the Assembly Rooms for so long. She lost sight of him for a while, and worked hard at forcing herself to pay attention to her suitors, for he was only to be expected heir guardian would seek less tame entertainment elsewhere. But then his tall figure reappeared at the side of the room. He seemed to be scanning the multitude, then, over a sea of heads, his eyes met hers. Margaret fervently hopes the peculiar shock which went through her was not reflected in her countenance. After a moment, unobtrusively, he made his way to her side. Under cover of the light flirtation she was engaged in with an ageing baronet, Margaret was conscious of the sudden acceleration of her heartbeat and the constriction that seemed to be affecting her breathing. Horrendously award if her guardian’s blue gaze, she felt her
Mesmerized, she has sufficient presence of mind to keep a gentle smile fixed firmly on her face but her thoughts were whirling even faster that her feet. With a superhuman effort, she forced her kids to drop, screening her eyes from his. "Oh, we Flemings have many accomplishments, dear guardian." To her relief, her voice was clear and untroubled. "But I'm desolated to have to admit that they're all hopelessly mundane." A rich chuckle greeted this. "Permit me to tell you, my ward, that for the skills I have in mind, your qualifications are more than adequate." Margaret's eyes flew to his. She could hardly believe her ears. But Felix continued before she could speak, his blue eyes holding hers, his voice a seductive murmur. "And while you naturally lack experience, I assure you that can easily, and most enjoyably, be remedied." It was too much. Margaret gave up the struggle to divine his motives and made
Maribella stifled a wistful sigh and smiled brightly at the earnest young man who was guiding her around the floor in yet another interminable waltz. It had taken only a few days of the Season proper for her to sort through her prospective suitors. And come to the unhappy conclusion that none matched her requirements. The lads were too young, the men too old. There seemed to be no one in between. Presumably many were away with Wellington’s forces, but surely there were those who could not leave the important business of keeping England running? And surely not all of them were old? She could not describe her ideal Amman, yet was sure she would instantly know when she met him. She was convinced she would feel it, like a thunderbolt from the blue. Yet no make of her acquaintance increase her heartbeat one iota. Keeping a steady and inconsequential c
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
The Duke of Twyford returned to London the next afternoon, accompanied by his Duchess. They went directly to Twyford House, to find the entire household at sixes and sevens. They found Lady Hillsborough in the back parlour, reclining on the chaise, her wig askew, an expression of smug satisfaction on her face. At sight of them, she abruptly sat up, struggling to control the wig. “There you are! And about time, too!” Her shrewd blue eyes scanned their faces, noting the inner glow that lit Margaret’s features and the contented satisfaction in her nephew’s dark face. “What gave you been up to?” Felix grinned wickedly and bent to kiss her cheek. “Securing my Duchess, as you correctly imagined.” “You’ve ties the knot alrea
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
Emma had thought he had taught her all about kissing, but this was something quite different. She felt his arms lock like a vice about her waist, not that she had any intention of struggling. And the kiss went on and on. When she finally emerged, flushed, her eyes sparkling, all she could do was gasp and stare at him.Francis uttered a laugh that was halfway to a groan. “Oh, Emma! Sweet Emma. For God’s sake, say you’ll marry me and out me out of my misery.” Her eyes grew round. “Marry you?” The words came out as a squeak. Francis’s grin grew broader. “Mmm. I thought it might be a good idea.” His eyes dropped from her face to the lace edging that lay over her breasts. “Aside from ensuring I’l
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 first thought that sprang to Maribella’s mind on seeing Henry Byron enter the back parlour was how annoyed he must have been to learn of her deception. Margaret had told her of the circumstances; they would have improved his temper. Oblivious to all else save the object of her thoughts, she did not see Sophia leave the room, nor Francis take Emma through the long windows into the garden. Consequently, she was a little perturbed to suddenly find herself alone with Henry Byron. “Anna Kripinski, I presume?” His tone was perfectly equable but Maribella did not place any reliance on that. He came to stand before her, dwarfing her by his height and the breadth of his magnificent chest. Maribella was conscious of a devastating desire to throw herself on that bro
“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
Well, what had she expected? asked that other Miss Fleming, ousting her competitor and taking total possession as Felix bend his head to kiss her. Her mouth opened welcomingly under his and he took what she offered, gradually drawing her into his embrace until she was crushed against his chest. Margaret did not mind; breathing seemed unimportant just at that moment. When Felix finally raises his head, his eyes were bright under their hooded lids and, she noticed with smug satisfaction, his breathing was almost as ragged as hers. His eyes searched her face, then his slow smile appeared. “I notice you’ve ceased reminding me I’m your guardian.” Margaret, finding her arms twined around his neck, ran her fingers through his dark hair. “I’ve given
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