The Duke And His Four Wards

Chapter 2.2 (Part 1)

   When he called at Guile's promptly at two, Felix was relieved to find Miss Fleming alone in the foyer, seated on a chaise opposite the door, her bonnet beside her. He was not to know that Margaret had had to exert every last particle of persuasion to achieve this end. And she had been quite unable to prevent her three sisters from keeping watch from the windows of their bedchambers.

   As she had expected, she had had to describe His Grace of Twyford in detail for her sisters. Looking up at the figure striding across the foyer towards her, she did not think she had done too badly. What had been hardest to convey was the indefinable air that hung about him—compelling, exciting, it immediately brought to mind a whole range of emotions well-bred young ladies were not supposed to comprehend, let alone feel. As he took her hand for an instant in his own, and smiled down at her in an oddly lazy way, she decided she had altogether underestimated the attractiveness of fat sleepy smile. It was really quite devastating.

   Within a minute, Margaret found herself on the box seat of a fashionable curricle drawn by a pair of beautiful but restive bays. She resisted the temptation to glance up at the first-floor windows where she knew the other three would be stationed. Felix mounted to the driving seat and the diminutive tiger, who had been holding the horses' heads, swung up behind. Then they were off, tacking through the traffic towards Hyde Park.

   Margaret resigned herself to silence until the safer precincts of the Park were reached. However, it seemed the Duke was quite capable of conversing intelligently while negotiating the chaos of the London streets.

   "I trust Guile's has met with your approval thus far?"

   "Oh, yes. They've been most helpful," returned Margaret. "Where you able to clarify the matter of our guardianship?

   Felix was unable to suppress a smile at her directness. He nodded, his attention temporarily claimed by the off-side horse which had decided to take exception to a monkey dancing on the pavement, accompanied by an accordion player.

   "Mr. Bailey has assured me that, as I am the Duke of Twyford, I must therefore be your guardian." He had allowed his reluctance to find expression in his tone. As the words left his lips, he realized that the unconventional woman beside him might well ask why he found the role of protector to herself and her sisters so distasteful. He immediately went on the attack. "And, in that capacity, I should like to know how you have endeavored to come by Parisian fashions?"

   His sharp eyes missed little and his considerable knowledge of feminine attire told him Miss Fleming's elegant pelisse owed much to the French. But France was at war with England and Paris no longer the playground of the rich.

   Initially stunned that he would know enough to come close to the truth, Margaret quickly realized the source of his knowledge. A spark of amusement danced in her eyes. She smiled and answered readily, "I assure you we did not run away to Brussels instead of New York."

   "Oh, I wasn't afraid of that!" retorted Felix, perfectly willing to indulge in plain speaking. "If you'd been I Brussels, I'd have heard of it."

   "Oh?" Margaret turned a fascinated gaze on him.

   Felix smiled down at her.

   Praying she was not blushing, Margaret strove to get the conversation back on a more conventional course. "Actually, you're quite right about the clothes, they are Parisian. But not from the Continent. There were two couturières from Paris on the boat going to New York. They asked if they could dress us, needing the business to become known in America. It was really most fortunate. We took the opportunity to get quite a lot made up before we returned—we'd been in greys for so long that none of us had anything suitable to wear."

   "How did you find American society?"

   Margaret reminded herself to watch her tongue bushes did not delude herself that just because the Duke was engaged in handling a team of high-courage's cattle through the busy streets of London he was likely to miss any slip she made. She was rapidly learning to respect the intelligence of this fashionable rake. "Quite frankly, we found much to entertain us. Of course, our relatives were pleased to see us and organized a great many outings and entertainments." No need to tell him they had had a riotous time.

   "Did the tone of the society meet with your approval?"

   He had already told her he would have known if Hey had been in Europe. Did he have connections in New York? How much could he know of their junketing? Margaret gave herself a mental shake. How absurd! He had not known of their existence until this morning. "Well, to be sure, it wasn't the same as here. Many more cits and half-pay officers about. And, of course, nothing like the ton."

   Unknowingly, her answer brought some measure of relief to Felix. Far from imagining his new-found wards had been indulging in high living abroad, he had been wondering whether they had any social experience at all. Miss Fleming's reply told him that she, at least, knew enough to distinguish the less acceptable among society's hordes.