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Chapter 5.3
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2021-09-21 16:58:24How 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.
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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
Last Updated : 2021-09-21The Duke And His Four Wards Chapter 6.1 (Part 1)
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
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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
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“Good morning. Rickshaw, isn’t it? I’m Emma Fleming. I’ve come to return a book to His Grace.” Although he had only set eyes on her once before, Rickshaw remembered his master’s youngest ward perfectly. As she stepped daintily over the threshold of Delmere House, a picture in a confection of lilac muslin, he gathered his wits to murmur, “His Grace is not presently at home, miss. Perhaps his secretary, Mr. Cunnings, could assist you.” Rickshaw rolled one majestic eye toward a hovering footman who immediately, if reluctantly, disappeared in the direction of the back office frequented by the Duke’s secretary. Emma, allowing Rickshaw to relieve her half-cape, looked doubtful. But all she said was, “Wait here for me, Henri
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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
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An hour later, Felix crosses the threshold to be met by Rickshaw, displaying, quite remarkably, an emotion very near agitation. This was instantly explained. “Miss Emma’s here. In the drawing-room with Mr. Francis.” Felix froze. Then nodded to his butler. “Very good, Rickshaw.” His sharp eyes had already taken in the bored face of the maid sitting in the shadows. Presumably, Emma had been here for some time. His face was set in grim lines as his hand closed on the handle of the drawing-room door. The sight which met his eyes was not at all what he had expected. As he shut the door behind him, Francis’s eyes lifted to his, amused understanding in the blue depths. He was seated in an armchair and Emma occupied the nearest corner of the chaise.
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The coach swayed as it turned a corner and Maribella clutched the strap swinging by her head. As equilibrium returned, she settled her skirts once more and glanced at the other two occupants of the carriage. The glow from a street lamp momentarily lit the interior of the coach, then faded as the four horses hurried on. Maribella grinned into the darkness. Margaret had insisted that she and Emma share their guardian’s coach. One had to wonder why. Too often these days, her eldest sister had the look of the cat caught just after it had tasted the cream. Tonight, that look of guilty pleasure, or, more specifically, the anticipation of guilty pleasure, was marked. She had gone up to Margaret’s room to hurry her sister along. Margaret has been sitting, staring at her re
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The heavy Twyford coach lumbered along in the wake of the sleek Delmere carriage. Lady Hillsborough put up a hand to right her wig, swaying perilously as they rounded a particularly sharp corner. For the first time since embarking on her nephew's crusade to find he Fleming girls suitable husbands, she felt a twinge of nervousness. She was playing with fire and she knew it. Still, she could not regret it. The sight of Felix and Margaret together in the hall at Twyford House had sent a definite thrill through her old bones. As for Sophia, she doubted not that Daniel Hammington was too far gone to desist, resist and retire. True, he might not know it yet, but time would certainly bring home to him the penalty he would have to pay to walk away from the snare. Her shrewd blue eyes studied the pale face opposite her. Even in the dim light, the strain of the past few days was evident. Thankfully, no one outside their party had been aware of that contretemps. So, regardless of
Last Updated : 2021-09-24
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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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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
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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
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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
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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
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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
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“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
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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
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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
