The Duke And His Four Wards

Chapter 6.3

   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. She was presently hunched forward, pondering what lay before her on a small table drawn up between them. As Felix rounded the chaise, he saw to his stupefaction that they were playing checkers.

   Emma looked up and saw him. "Oh! You're back. I was just entertaining your brother until you returned." Felix blinked but Emma showed no consciousness of the implication of her words and he discarded the notion of enlightening her.

   Then Emma's eyes fell on the clock on the mantel-shelf. "Oh, dear! I didn't realize it was so late. I must go. Where are those books Mr. Cunnings brought?" She suddenly remembered the original purpose of her visit.

   Francis fetched them for her and, under the highly sceptical gaze of his brother, very correctly took leave of her. Felix, seeing the expression in his brother's eyes as they rested in his youngest ward, almost groaned aloud. This was really too much.

   Felix saw Emma out, then returned to the library. But before he could launch into his inquisition, Francis for in first. "You didn't tell me you had inherited four wards."

   "Well, I have," said Felix, flinging himself into an armchair opposite the one his brother had resumed.

   "Are they all like that?" asked Francis in awe.

   Felix needed no explanation of what "that" meant. He answered with a groan, "Worse!"

   Eyes round, Francis did not make the mistake of imagining the other Fleming sisters were antidotes. His gaze rested on his brother for a moment, then his face created into a wide smile. "Good lord!"

   Felix brought his blue gaze back from the ceiling and fixed it firmly on his brother. "Precisely. That being so, I suggest you revise the plans you've been making for Emma Fleming." he said, trying to give his brother caution.

   Francis's grin, if anything, became even broader. "Why so? It's you who's their guardian, not I. Besides, you don't seriously expect me to believe that, if our situations were reversed, you'd pay any attention to such restrictions?" When Felix frowned, Francis continued. "Anyway, good heavens, you must have seen it for yourself. She's like a ripe plum, ready for the picking." He stopped at Felix's raised hand.

   "Permit me to fill you in," drawled his older brother. "For a start, I've nine years on you and there's nothing about the business you know that I don't. However, quite aside from that, I can assure you that Fleming sisters, ripe though they may be, are highly unlikely to fall into anyone's palms without a prior proposal of marriage."

   A slight frown settled over Francis's eyes. Not for a moment did he doubt the accuracy of Felix's assessment. But he had been strongly attracted to Emma Fleming and was disinclined to give up the idea of converting her to his way of thinking. He looked up and blue eyes met blue. "Really?"

   Felix gestured airily. "Consider the case of Lord Daniel Hammington." Francis looked his question. Felix obliged. "Being much taken with Sophia, the second of the four, Daniel's been engaged in storming her citadel for the past five weeks and more. No holds barred, I might add. And the outcome you ask? As of yesterday, he's retired to his estates, to lick his wounds and, unless I miss my guess, to consider whether he can stomach the idea of marriage."

   "Good lord!" Although only peripherally acquainted with Daniel Hammington, Francis knew he was one of Felix's particular friends and that his reputation in matters involving the fairer sex was seconded only to Felix's own.

   "Exactly," nodded Felix. "Brought low by a chit of a girl. So, brother dear, if it's your wish to tangle with any Flemings, I suggest you first decide how much you're willing to stake on the throw." Felix warned his brother.

   As he pondered his brother's words, Francis noticed that Felix's gaze had become abstracted. He only just caught the last words his brother said, musing, almost to himself. "For, brother mine, it's my belief the Flemings eat rakes for breakfast."