The Duke And His Four Wards

Chapter 12.1 (Part 2)

   Their relief had been quite real. Despite his reputation, their acquaintance with the Duke of Twyford had left his younger wards with the definite impression that he would not condone any breach of conduct and was perfectly capable of implementing sufficiently draconian measures in response to any transgression. In years past, they would have ignored the potential threat and relied on Margaret to make all right in the event of any trouble. But, given that the man in question was Felix Cambridge, June was sure how successful Margaret would be in turning him up sweet. Reassured that their guardian was not intending to descend, in ire, upon them, Emma and Maribella after hugging Margaret and avowing their deepest thanks for her endeavours on their behalf, had left the room. Sophia suspected they would both be found in some particular nook, puzzling out the uncomfortable feeling in their hearts.

   Strangely enough, she no longer felt the need to emulate them. In the long watches of a sleepless night, she had finally faced the fact that she could not live without Daniel Hammington. In the gazebo the previous evening, it had been on the tip of her tongue to beg him to take her from the ball, to some isolated spot where they could pursue their lovemaking in greater privacy. She had had to fight her own nearly overwhelming desire to keep from speaking the words. If she uttered them, he would have arranged it all in an instant, she knew; his desire for her was every bit as strong as her desire for him. Only her involvement in their scheme and the consternation her sudden disappearance would have caused had tipped the scales. Her desire for marriage; for a home and family, was still as strong as ever. But, if he refused to consider such an arrangement, she was now prepared to listen to whatever alternative suggestions he had to offer. There was Felix's opposition to be overcome, but presumably Daniel was aware of that. She felt sure he would seek her company soon enough and then she would make her acquiescence plain. That, at least, she thought with a small, introspective smile, would be very easy to do.

   Margaret finally pushed the unhelpful piece of toast aside. She rose and shook her skirts in an unconsciously flustered gesture. In a flash of unaccustomed insight, Sophia wondered if her elder sister was in a similar state to the rest of them. After all, they were all Flemings. Although their problems were superficially quite different, in reality, they were simply variations on the same theme. They were all in love with rakes, all whom seemed highly resistant to matrimony. In her case, the rake had won. But surely Felix wouldn't win, too? For a moment, Sophia's mind boggled at the thought of two elder Flemings falling by the wayside. Then, she gave herself a mental shake. No, of course not. He was their guardian, after all. Which, Sophia thought, presumably meant Margaret would even the score. Margaret was undoubtedly the most capable of them all. So why, then, did she looked so troubled?

   Margaret was indeed racked by the most uncomfortable thoughts. Leaving Sophia to her contemplation of the breakfast table, she drifted without purpose into the drawing-room and thence to the small courtyard beyond. Ambling about, her delicate fingers examining some of the bountiful blooms, she eventually came to the hammock, slung under the cherry trees, protected from the morning sun by their leafy foliage. Climbing into it, she rested her aching head against the cushions with relief and prepared to allow the conflicting emotions inside her to do battle.

   Lately, it seemed to her that there were two Margaret Flemings. One knew the ropes, was thoroughly acquainted with society's expectations and had no hesitation in laughing at the idea of a gentlewoman such as herself sharing a man's bed outside the bounds of marriage. She had been acquainted with this Margaret Fleming for as long as she could remember. The other woman, for some mysterious reason, had only surfaced in the recent times, since her exposure to the temptations of Felix Cambridge. There was no denying the increasing control this second persona exerted over her. In truth, it had come to the point where she was seriously considering which Margaret Fleming she preferred.

   She was no green girl and could hardly pretend she had not been perfectly aware of Felix's intentions when she had heard the lock fall on that bedroom door. Not could she comfort herself that the situation had been beyond her control—at least, not then. If she made any real effort to bring the illicit encounter to a halt, as she most certainly should have done, Felix would have instantly acquiesced. She could hardly claim he had forced her to remain. But it had been that other Margaret Fleming who had welcomed him into her arms and had proceeded to enjoy, all too wantonly, the delights to be found in his.

   She had never succeeded in introducing marriage as aspect of their relationship. She had always been aware that what Felix intended was an illicit affair. What she had underestimated was her own interest in such a scandalous proceeding. But there was no denying the pleasure she had found in his arms, nor the disappointment she had felt when he had cut short their interlude. She knew she could rely on him to ensure that next time there would be no possible impediment to the completion of her education. And she would go to his arms with neither resistance nor regrets. Which, to the original Margaret Fleming, was a very lowering thought.

   Swinging gently in the hammock, the itinerant breeze wafting her curls, she tried to drum up all the old arguments against allowing herself to become involved in such an improper relationship. She had been over them all before; they held no power to sway her. Instead, the unbidden memory of Felix's mouth on her breast sent a thrill of warm desire through her veins. "Fool!" she said, without heat, to the cherry tree overhead.