The Duke And His Four Wards

Chapter 8.1 (Part 3)

   A silence fell as all four sisters pondered their rakes. Eventually, Margaret spoke. "Sophia, what are you planning?"

   Sophia wriggled her shoulders against the sundial's pedestal. "Well, it occurred to me that perhaps I should make some effort to bring things to a head. But if I did the obvious, and started wildly flirting with a whole bevy of gentlemen, then most likely I'd only land myself in the suds. For a start, Daniel would very likely not believe it and I'd probably end with a very odd reputation. I'm not good at it, like Bella."

   Maribella put her head on one side, the better to observe her sister. "I could give you lessons," she offered.

   "No," said Margaret. "Sophia's right. It wouldn't wash." She turned to Emma to say, "Another problem, my love, is that rakes know all the tricks, so balling them is very much harder."

   "Too true," echoed Maribella. She turned again to Sophia. "But if not that, what, then?"

   A wry smile touched Sophia's lips. "I rather thought the pose of the maiden forlorn might better suit me. Nothing too obvious, just a subtle withdrawing. I'd still go to all the parties and balls, but I'd just become quieter and ever so gradually, let my...what's the word, Maggie? My despair? My broken heart? Well, whatever it is, show through."

   Her sisters considered her plan and found nothing to criticize. Margaret summed up their verdict. "In truth, my dear, there's precious little else you could do."

   Sophia's eyes turned to Maribella. "But what are you going to do about Lord Byron?"

   Maribella's attention had returned to her toes. She wrinkled her pert nose. "I really don't know. I can't make him jealous; as Maggie said, he knows all those tricks. And the forlorn act would not do for me."

   Maribella has tried every means possible to tie down the elusive Henry but that large gentleman seemed to view her attempts with sleepy humour, only bestirring himself to take advantage of any tactical error she made. At such times, as Maribella had found to her confusion and consternation, he could live with ruthless efficiency. She was now very careful not to leave any opening he could exploit to be private with her.

   "Why not try...?" Margaret broke off, suddenly assailed by a twinge of guilt at encouraging her sisters in their scheming. But, under the enquiring gaze of Sophia and Maribella, not to mention Emma, drinking it all in, she mentally shrugged and continued. "As you cannot convince him of your real interest in any other gentleman, you'd be best not to try, I agree. But you could let him understand that, as he refused to offer marriage, and you, as a virtuous young lady, are prevented from accepting any other sort of offer, then, with the utmost reluctance and the deepest regret, you have been forced to turn aside and consider accepting the attentions of some other gentleman."

   Maribella stared at her sister. Then, her eyes started to dance. "Oh, Maggie!" she breathed. "What a perfectly marvellous plan!"

   "Shouldn't be too hard for you to manage," said Sophia. "Who are the best of your court for the purpose? You don't want to raise any overly high expectations on their parts but you've loads of experience in playing that game."

   Maribella was already deep in thought. "Sir Jerome Needham, I think. And Mr. Overend. They're both sober enough and in no danger of falling in love with me. They're quite coldly calculating in their approach to matrimony; I doubt they have hearts to lose. Try both want an attractive wife, preferably with money, who would not expect too much attention from them. To their minds, I'm close to perfect but to scramble for my favours would be beneath them. They should be perfect for my charade."

   Margaret nodded. "They sound just the thing."

   "Good! I'll start tonight," said Maribella, decision burning in her huge eyes.

   "But what about you, Maggie?" asked Sophia with a grin. "We've discussed how the rest of us should go on, but you've yet to tell us how you plan to bring our dear guardian to his knees."

   Margaret smiled, the same gently wistful smile that frequently played upon her lips these days. "If I knew that, my dears, I'd certainly tell you." The last weeks had been a continuation of the unsatisfactory relationship between His Grace of Twyford and his eldest ward. Wary of his ability to take possession of her senses should she give him the opportunity, Margaret had consistently avoided his invitations to dally alone with him. Indeed, too often in recent times her mind had been engaged in keeping a watchful eye over her sisters, something their perceptive guardian seems to understand. She could not fault him for his support and was truly grateful for the understated manner in which he frequently set aside his own inclinations to assist her in her concern for her siblings. In fact, it had occurred to her that, far from being a lazy guardian, His Grace of Twyford was very much au fait with the activities of each of his wards. Lately, it had seemed to her that her sisters' problems were deflecting a considerable amount of his energies from his pursuit of herself. So, with a twinkle in her eyes, she said, "If truth be told, the best plan I think of to further my own ends is to assist you all in achieving your goals as soon as may be. Once free of you three, perhaps our dear guardian will be able to concentrate on me."