Felix stayed by his wards until they were claimed for the first dance. His sharp eyes had seen a number of less than desirable gentlemen approach the sisters, only to veer away as they saw him. If nothing else, his presence had achieved that much.

Searching through the crowd, he finally spotted Daniel Hammington disappearing into one of the salons where refreshments were laid out.

"Going to give them the go-by for at least a week, huh?" he growled as he came up behind Lord Daniel.

Daniel choked in the lemonade he had just drunk.

Felix gazed in horror at the glass in his friend's hand. "No! Bless me, Daniel! You turned temperate?"

Daniel grimaced. "Have to drink something and seemed like the best of a bad lot." His wave indicated the unexciting range of beverage available. "Thirsty work, getting a dance with one of your wards."

"Incidentally—" intoned Felix in the manner of one about to pass judgement.

But Daniel held up his hand. "No. Don't start. I don't need any lectures from you on the subject. And you don't need to bother, anyway. Sophia Fleming has her mind firmly set on marriage and there's not a damn thing I can do about it."

Despite himself, Felix could not resist a grin. "No luck?"

"None!" replied Daniel, goaded. "I'm almost at the stage of considering offering for her but I can't be sure she wouldn't reject me, and that I couldn't take."

Felix, picking up a glass of lemonade himself, became thoughtful.

Suddenly, Daniel roused himself. "Do you know what she told me yesterday? Said I spent too much time in horses and not enough on matters of importance. Can you believe it?"

He gestured wildly and Felix nearly hooted with laughter. Lord Daniel's stables were known the length and breadth of England as among the biggest and best producers of quality horseflesh.

"I very much doubt that she appreciates your interest in the field," Felix said placatingly.

"Humph," was all his friend vouchsafed.

After a pause, Daniel laid aside his glass. "Going to find Mary Bolton and talk her into giving Sophia permission to waltz with me. One thing she won't be able to refuse." With a nod to Felix, he returned to the main hall.

For some minutes, Felix remained as he was his abstracted gaze fixed on the far wall. Then, abruptly, he replaced his glass and followed his friend.

"You want me to give your ward permission to waltz with you?" Lady Humphrey repeated Felix's request, clearly unable to decide whether it was a innocuous as he represented or whatever it had an ulterior motive concealed within and if so, what.

"It's really not such an odd request," returned Felix, unperturbed. "She's somewhat older than he rest and, as I'm here, it seems appropriate."

"Hmm." Molly Humphrey simply did not believe there was not more to it. She had been hard-presses to swallow her astonishment when she had seen His Grace of Twyford enter the room. And she was even more amazed that he had not left as soon as he had seen his wards settled. But he was, after all, Twyford. And Delmere and Cambridge, what was more. So, if he wanted to dance with his ward... she shrugged. "Very well. Bring her to me. If you can separate her from her court, that is."

Felix smiled in a way that reminded Lady Humphrey of the causes of his reputation. "I think I'll manage," he drawled, bowing over her hand.