Within minutes of Margaret Fleming's departure from Delmere House, Felix has issued a succession of orders, one of which caused Mr. Robert Bailey, son of Mr. Joseph Bailey, the patriarch of the firm Bailey and Brown, Solicitors, of Chancery Lane, to present himself at Delmere House just before eleven. Mr. Bailey was a dry, desiccated man of uncertain age, very correctly attired in dusty black. He was his father's son in every way and, now that his sire was no longer able to leave his bed, he attended to all his father's wealthier clients. As Rickshaw showed him into the well-appointed library, he breathed a sigh of relief, not for the first time, that it was Felix Cambridge who had inherited the difficult Twyford estates. Unknown to Felix, Mr. Bailey held him in particular esteem, frequently wishing that others among his clients could be equally straightforward and decisive. It really made life so much easier.

Coming face-to-face with his favourite client, Mr. Bailey was immediately informed that His Grace the Duke of Twyford, was in no way amused to find he was apparently the guardian of four marriageable young ladies. Mr. Bailey was momentarily at a loss. Luckily, he had brought with him all the current Twyford papers and the Fleming documents were among these. Finding that his employer did not intend to upbraid him for not having informed him of a circumstance which, he was only too well aware, he should have brought forward long ago, he applied himself to assessing the terms of the late Sir Lucas Fleming's will. Having refreshed his memory on its details, he then turned to the late Duke's will.

Felix stood by the fire, idly watching. He liked Bailey. He did not fluster and he knew his business.

Finally, Mr. Bailey pulled the gold pince-nez from his face and glanced at his client. "Sir Lucas Fleming predeceased your uncle, and, under the terms of your uncle's will, it's quite clear you inherit all his responsibilities."

Felix's black brows had lowered. "So I'm stuck with this guardianship?"

Mr. Bailey pursed his lips. "I wouldn't go so far as to say that. The guardianship could be broken, I fancy, as its quite clear Sir Lucas did not intend you, personally, to be his daughters' guardian." He gazed at the fire and solemnly shook his head. "No one, I'm sure, could doubt that."

Felix smiled wryly.

"However," Mr. Bailey continued, "should you succeed in dissolving the guardianship clause, then the young ladies will be left with no protector. Did u understand you correctly in thinking they are presently in London and plan to remain for the Season?"

It did not need a great deal of intelligence to see where Mr. Bailey's discourse was heading. Exasperated at having his usually comfortably latent conscience pricked into life, Felix stalked to the window and stood looking out at the courtyard beyond, hands clasped behind his straight back. "Good God, man! You can hardly think I'm a suitable guardian for four sweet young things!"

Mr. Bailey, thinking the Duke could manage very well if he chose to do so, persevered. "There remains the question of who, in your stead, would act for them."

The certain knowledge of what would occur if he abandoned four inexperienced, gently reared girls to the London scene, to the mercies of well-bred wolves who roamed its streets, crystallized in Felix's unwilling mind. This was closely followed by the uncomfortable thought that he was considered the leader of one such pack, generally held to be the most dangerous. He could hardly refuse to be Margaret Fleming's guardian, only to set her up as his mistress. No. There was a knit to what even he could face down. Resolutely thrusting aside the memory, still vivid, of a pair of grey-green eyes, he turned to Mr. Bailey and growled, "All right, dammit! What do I need to know?"

Mr. Bailey smiled benignly and started to fill him in on the Fleming family history, much as Margaret has told it. Felix interrupted him. "Yes, I know all that! Just tell me in round figures—how much is each of them worth?"

Mr. Bailey named a figure and Felix's brows rose. For a moment, the Duke was entirely bereft of speech. He moved towards his desk and seated himself again.

"Each?"

Mr. Bailey merely inclined his head in assent. When the Duke remained lost in thought, he continued, "Sir Lucas was a very shrewd businessman, Your Grace."

"So it would appear. So each of these girls is an heiress in her own right?"

This time, Mr. Bailey nodded decisively.