The Duke And His Four Wards

Chapter 9.2 (Part 2)

   By the time they reached the area cordoned off in the centre of the large field, a crowd had gathered. The balloon was already filling slowly. As they watched, it lifted from the ground and slowly rose to hover above the cradle slung beneath, anchored to the ground by thick ropes.

   "It looks like such a flimsy contraption," said Maribella, eyeing the gaily striped silk balloon. "I wonder that anyone could trust themselves to it."

   "They don't always come off unscathed, I'm sorry to say," answered Mr. Overend, his schoolmasterish tones evincing strong disapproval of such reckless behaviour.

   "Humph!" said Sir Jerome Needham.

   Maribella's eyes met Sophia's in mute supplication. Sophia grinned.

   It was not until the balloon had taken off, successfully, to Maribella's relief, and the crowd had started to disperse that the Flemings once more had leisure to contemplate the problem of Sir Jack Finley. Predictably, it was Sophia and Maribella who conceived the plot. In a few whispered sentences, they developed its outline sufficiently to see that it would require great attention to detail to make it work. As they would have no further chance that day to talk with the others in private, they made plans to meet the next morning at Twyford House. Margaret had mentioned her intention of visiting her old nurse, who had left the Flemings' employ after her mother had died and hence was unknown to the younger Flemings. Thus, ensconced in the back parlour of Twyford House, they would be able to give free rein to their thoughts. Clearly, the removal of Sir Jack was becoming a matter of urgency.

   Returning to their carriage, drawn up beside the elegant equipage bearing the Delmere crest, the three youngest Flemings smiled serenely at their guardian, who watched them from the box seat of his curricle, a far from complaisant look in his eyes.

   Felix was, in fact, convinced that something was in the wind but had no idea what. His highly developed social antennae had kicked up the undercurrents of his wards' plotting and their innocent smiles merely confirmed his suspicions. He was well aware that Margaret, seated beside him in a fetching gown of figured muslin, was not privy to their schemes. As he headed his team from the field, he smiled. His eldest ward had had far too much on her mind recently to have had any time free for scheming.

   Beside him, Margaret remained in blissful ignorance of her sisters' schemes. She had spent a thoroughly enjoyable day in the company of her guardian and was in charity with the world. They had had an excellent view of the ascent itself from the height of the box seat of the curricle. And when she had evinced the desire to stroll among the crowds, Felix had readily escorted her, staying attentively by her side, his acerbic comments forever entertaining and, for once, totally unexceptionable. She looked forward to the drive back to Mount Street with unimpaired calm, knowing that in the curricle, she ran no risk of being subjected to another of His Grace's "lessons." In fact, she was beginning to wonder how many more lessons there could possibly be before the graduation ceremony. The thought brought a sleepy smile to her face. She turned to study her guardian.

   His attention was wholly on his horses, the bays, as sweet a pair as she had ever seen. Her eyes fell to his hands as they rolled the reins, strong and sure. Remembering the sensations those hands had drawn forth as they had knowledgeably explored her body, she caught her breath and rapidly looked away. Keeping her eyes fixed on the passing landscape, she forced her thoughts into safer fields.

   The trouble with Felix Cambridge was that he invaded her thoughts, too, and, as in other respects, was wellnigh impossible to deny. She was fast coming to the conclusion that she should simply forget all elder and give herself up to the exquisite excitements she found in his arms. All the social and moral structures ever intoned, all her inhibitions seemed to be consumed to ashes in the fire of her desire. She was beginning to feel it was purely a matter of time before she succumbed. The fact that the idea did not fill her with trepidation but rather with a pleasant sense of anticipation was in itself, she felt, telling.

   As the wheels his the cobbles and the noise that was London closed in around them, her thoughts flew ahead to Lady Hillsborough, who had stayed at home recruiting her energies for the ball that night. It was only this morning, when, with Felix, she had bid her ladyship goodbye, that he oddity in Amelia's behaviour had struck her. While the old lady had been assiduous in steering the girls through the shoals of the acceptable gentlemen of the ton, she had said nothing about her eldest charge's association with her nephew. No matter how Margaret viewed it, invoke what reason she might, there was something definitely odd about that. As she herself had heard the rumours about His Grace of Twyford's very strange relationship with his eldest ward, it was inconceivable that Lady Hillsborough had not been edifies with their tales. However, far from urging her to behave with greater discretion towards Felix, impossible task though that might be, Amelia continued to behave as if there was nothing at all surprising in Felix Cambridge escorting his wards to a balloon ascent. Margaret wonders what it was that Amelia knew that she did not.